Aces and Knaves

Chapter 35 JAMES

As I lay on a gurney in the emergency room I tried to remember whether I was already covered by the Tartan medical plan or whether there was a waiting period for new employees. That's one of the things you don't usually worry about when you're young and healthy and starting a new job and I hadn't, until now. Jed had told the admissions people I was covered in order to get me admitted, but still I wondered.

My brain had short-circuited and was running in circles, partly as a result of the painkiller the nurse had given me after it had been determined from X-rays that the only thing wrong with me was a cracked vertebra. When I wasn't trying to sort out the insurance problem I was replaying the last few minutes I had spent with Stan and wondering how I had survived.

I should feel fortunate that I had. All I needed to do was to wear a body caste for a few weeks. It would be applied as soon as the doctor was freed up from taking care of a heart-attack victim who apparently had priority over me. Certainly, he was in worse shape than I was. With luck, I would be out of here in an hour.

Jed had driven me all the way back to San Francisco because I had made light of my injury and said I could stand it. During the trip, when we had bounced over bumps I had rued not asking to be taken to the nearest hospital, but now I was glad I wasn't stuck in Salinas.

The others had placed Stan under a form of house arrest and brought him back, also, after tying him up with one of the climbing ropes. It was felt that his crimes could more adequately be dealt with here in the city than out in the sticks.

Somebody came into my room. Hoping it was the doctor, I turned my head to look. The flashy sport shirt immediately told me it wasn't and the limp looked familiar. I blinked to clear the haze from in front of my eyes and verified that it was indeed James.

"What are you doing here?" I asked. It must be around midnight.

"I came to make sure you weren't going to kill yourself to get out of working for me," James said, patting my shoulder. "You know, most young men would give their eye teeth to work for Tartan, but you've played hard to get. That's one reason I like you."

"I broke my back for you."

James looked concerned, the first time I had ever seen that look on his face since we had tried to find Ned. "They told me that you'll be fine in a few weeks."

"I'll be fine." But not Stan. How much had the guys told him about Stan?

"I'm sick about Stan," James said, reading my mind. "I'm beginning to understand why you thought I was involved in Ned's murder. If Stan commissioned it, I must be behind it. But Ned was my best friend, even though we had our differences. I've done some things I'm not proud of, but I'm not a murderer. But Stan…"

James shook his head, at a loss for words. I'm sure he couldn't understand how a brain like Stan's worked. I couldn't, either. I felt I should say something to console him. He and Stan had been… Whatever it was, it had gone beyond the usual employer-employee relationship. Otherwise, why would Stan go off the cliff, so to speak?

There was an awkward silence, during which I tried to think of words that wouldn't come. James broke it, saying, "To show you I'm not such a bad guy, I'm going to let you off the hook. You don't have to work for me and I'm going to cancel your obligation on the baseball card. I've caused you enough trouble by not being alert to what Stan was up to."

My first inclination was to say, "You don't have to do that," but I was afraid if I did he might take it back. I should learn a lesson from him. When somebody owes you, collect. And James obviously felt he owed me.

"I'll tell you what," I said, talking slowly to buy time as the idea formulated itself in my head. "I'll keep the job and I'll pay you for the card if you stop trying to take over Dionysus. Don't solicit proxies, and divest Tartan of the Dionysus stock it holds, in an orderly manner so as not to upset the market."

James smiled as if I had said something funny. "You're a smart young man," he said, "and I'm sure you already know what I'm about to tell you, but I'm going to do it anyway, to give you a chance to change your mind. Number one, if I can't get Elma's proxy, the chances of Tartan taking over Dionysus are slim, and at the moment she doesn't appear to be in my corner. And I have a feeling that when she hears a Tartan employee murdered her husband the news will not endear her to us.

“Number two, being a part of Tartan might actually be good for Dionysus, for several reasons. It would certainly put your father on easy street, financially, and I have a feeling some of that would dribble down to you.”

"My father can take care of his own financial interests," I said. Why did I feel I had to defend him? "I've seen you in action enough to know that you usually get what you aim for so I'm not sure Elma is enough to stop you. But in addition…my father wants…that is, he wants to continue running Dionysus. He doesn't want to give it up yet. It's his life."

James looked surprised. "You're doing this for him, aren't you?"

"Don't tell him we had this conversation," I said, quickly.

"I have two daughters. I can't remember that they've ever done anything for me. Oh, they send me Father's Day cards and they come for obligatory visits. But mostly it seems that they want things from me. I think big weddings are next on the agenda."

The conversation was headed in the wrong direction. "I don't mind working for you," I said. “I might even learn something."

"The good news is that Tartan will make money on the Dionysus stock it holds." James grinned. "As some famous investor said, 'Nobody ever went broke taking a profit.' I have just one question: Where are you going to get the money to pay me for the baseball card?"

"From my Tartan stock options."

James laughed, long and loud