Bloodlines

45

M ITCH YEAGER STOOD UP FROM THE DINNER TABLE.

Ian and Eric exchanged a glance, then realized that Uncle Mitch had seen the exchange, and was smiling. It was not a good kind of smile.

“Eric, Ian, in my study,” Mitch said. To the rest of his family, he said, “You’ll excuse us. We have a little business to discuss.”

“But, Daddy!” his daughter protested. “You promised you would help me with my homework.”

Eric felt hope rise.

Mitch smiled at her. “And I will, sugar, I will. This won’t take long.”

His brief moment of optimism crushed, Eric followed his uncle into the study, as Ian lagged behind.

When they had taken seats across from him, Mitch asked, “Tell me all of it, and tell it to me right now.”

“All of what?” Eric asked.

Mitch threw a glass paperweight at him. Eric ducked just in time. The paperweight shattered behind him.

Mitch looked at Ian.

Within minutes, Ian divulged everything. He started out nervously, then warmed with the enthusiasm he felt for the project. Ian discussed what he believed to be the more brilliant aspects of the plan, including the place where they had hidden their hostages. “So you see, Uncle Mitch, Warren will have to come back.”

For a full fifteen seconds, Uncle Mitch said nothing, but Eric knew he was unhappy. His jaw clenched, his eyes narrowed, and he turned red.

“You fucking imbeciles!” he exploded. “I work all these years to clean up the family name, and you do this? I give up lucrative opportunities, donate to charities I could give a crap about, and spend time with people I like even less. I pay off half a dozen hoods to shut their yaps, and permanently shut the yaps of the ones who aren’t smart enough to be satisfied. I send my kids to good schools. I make sure your own little youthful escapades never lead to an arrest or bad publicity-that wasn’t easy. I take care of you, and what kind of thanks do I get? One fuckup after another, that’s what!”

He ranted at them, telling them that he would be lucky to be able to save their miserable hides this time, then going on to a familiar speech about their lack of intelligence. All the while, Eric thought of the bag he had packed and concealed in the trunk of his car, of the one-way plane tickets, cash, and other treasures, of the private residence he had bought under another name. He was so pissed off at Ian, he wasn’t sure he’d give him the other ticket.

He wondered at his own ability to foresee this moment. Maybe he had always been expecting something like this to happen, maybe he had always known in his heart of hearts that Ian wouldn’t be able to stand up to Uncle Mitch. At least Uncle Mitch thought he was too dumb to have a Plan B, which was actually an essential part of said Plan B.

He suddenly realized that Uncle Mitch had asked him a question.

“Well?” Mitch said impatiently.

“No, they didn’t see our faces. We had masks on,” Ian answered for him.

Okay, Eric decided, Ian could come with him.

“Did you say anything in front of them?”

“No, we were absolutely silent,” Eric said.

“Thank God for that!” Mitch said. “You go back there and make it possible for them to escape, you understand? You will do this immediately, then come back here. Go. Now!”

When they were outside, Eric insisted on driving. Ian was apologizing profusely, paying no attention to where they were going, until Eric pulled into Ian’s driveway.

“This is my house,” Ian said. “What are you doing?”

“Thought I’d give you a chance to pack. You want to buy your underwear in Belize, that’s fine with me.”

“Belize? What are you talking about?”

“You can stay here and let Uncle Mitch ride your ass for another twenty years, or you can come with me to the Caribbean. I’ve had it. I’m getting out of here. What you do is up to you, but I’ve got phony passports, and all the other arrangements made if you want to come along with me. Plan B.”

Ian swallowed hard. He was silent for so long, Eric began to feel certain that he was going to stay behind. He wondered if he’d really have the nerve to go alone.

“I’ll go with you,” Ian said.

Eric smiled. “You will not regret this. I promise. Now grab a change of clothes and let’s go-don’t fuck around in there, we’ve got to get out of here before Uncle Mitch figures out what’s going on.”

“What are we doing for money?”

“I’ve been putting some in an account down there.” He thought about telling him about the bag in the trunk, but decided that could wait. “Hurry. I’ll tell you the rest on the way to the airport.”

Eric kept the engine running. Ian was inside for no more than a few moments. When he returned, he had a canvas bag with him. “I brought underwear, a pair of jeans, and three thousand bucks,” he said. “That’s all the money I had in the house.”

“That’s great, Ian,” he said, and pulled away from the curb.

They were on the freeway when Ian said, “What about Kyle and the girl?”

“Not our problem,” Eric said, and moved into the fast lane.