Montaro Caine A Novel

37





THE MODEL OF THE SEVENTH SHIP WOULD NOT OPEN A SECOND time. No matter how often Montaro picked up the object, rubbed its surface, or shook it, Luther John Doe’s carving remained motionless as it had for nearly half a century. Montaro hoped that somehow it might reveal to him the location of Whitney and Franklyn Walker, teach him how to find Matthew Perch, or at least reward him with another magnificent display of colors and shapes. But there was nothing.

And yet, in some way, the model had already done its work, for it had reminded Montaro of the value of patience, something often sorely lacking in men in his position with the pressures he faced. Luther John Doe’s model had taken nearly fifty years to open and reveal its interior; Luther had waited the same amount of time to tell Montaro all he knew that he had kept inside him. How many years had the Seventh Ship traveled? Montaro understood that if he remained focused and determined, if he trusted his instincts as P. L. Caine advised him, he would arrive at a place he wanted to be, even if he didn’t yet know where that place was.

Soon enough, even without any apparent action on his part, events began to move forward, as if plans beyond the scope of his own understanding had already been put into motion. Anna Hilburn finally managed to get hold of one of Whitney’s cousins, who had actually heard from Whitney in a letter and learned that she claimed to be working for an international nonprofit agency developing health-care clinics in Africa, and also that the baby in her belly had begun kicking harder, as if it, like the images Montaro had seen in Luther’s carving, was preparing to emerge and reveal its secrets. Montaro immediately turned this information over to Lawrence Aikens and Curly, advising the investigators to use every means at their disposal to follow up on it.

And one early morning, when Montaro hadn’t even made it in to work yet, Larry Buchanan dropped by The Carlyle unannounced with information that he said couldn’t wait and that he hadn’t wanted to discuss over the phone.

“What is it, Larry?” Montaro asked as he adjusted the knot in his tie in his living room mirror while Larry helped himself to a tall cup of black coffee.

“It’s about your pal Fritzbrauner,” Larry said.

“What about him?”

“He’s coming into town,” said Larry. “Old man Hargrove’s having him over to dinner at his place in Chappaqua this weekend. Guess who else is coming to dinner?”

“Colette Beekman?” Montaro asked.

Larry leered at his friend. “I know what you’re thinking about, Monty. Same thing I’m always thinking about,” he said. “Yeah, Beekman’ll be there. But you know who else?”

Montaro shrugged.

“Richard Davis, Herman Freich, and Roland Gabler. What does all that tell you?”

Caine didn’t pause. “A fact no longer in question, and one I already anticipated.” He spoke simply, with an almost Zen sense of calm about him, as if what Larry was telling him had already been predestined. “They’re joining forces. It also tells me that one of them will be calling me after they have that dinner.”

“Probably so,” said Larry, then added, “Here’s one more thing for you.” There was a painful edge to his voice now as he opened his briefcase and took out a large brown sealed envelope. He passed the envelope to Caine, who understood that the painful edge in Buchanan’s voice resulted from the fact that Larry’s boss, Julius Hargrove, was using Larry as his messenger boy.

“What is it?” Montaro asked.

“They have a proposal for you.”

“For what?”

“They want you to join them.”

“Really. How’d they figure that all of a sudden?”

“I suppose they think you could cause trouble for them later down the line and it’d be better for them to have you on their side.”

“So, they think they can get me cheap?” Montaro said. And also maybe if I join them, they think their coins will miraculously reappear, Montaro thought, but didn’t say this out loud.

Larry didn’t respond. Caine took a letter opener from his desk, sliced open the envelope, and removed the document, which consisted of two stapled pages on Hargrove, Hastings and Dundas company letterhead. Caine scanned the offer, which detailed ownership stakes in both the coins themselves and in any future coin or coins that might come into being, and also in any profits that might come from exploiting or synthetically reproducing the elements in those coins in the future. The details of the proposal, the percentages, obligations, and everything else that was enumerated in the document’s stiff legal language, were not nearly as important to Caine as what the document signified, which was that Kritzman Fritzbrauner had not fully understood or accepted what Caine had tried to tell him. He was still thinking in terms of ownership, even though by now he should have understood that the coins had wills of their own and could not truly be bought, sold, or owned.

Caine folded the proposal and slipped the pages back into the envelope.

It had taken all of Larry’s pride and will power to keep himself from peeking at the proposal while Caine had been scanning it. Now he looked Caine straight in the eye. “Good news?” he asked.

“Don’t know yet,” Caine said, and Larry understood that was all he would get out of his friend. When Montaro’s cell phone rang, Montaro draped an arm around Larry’s shoulders and walked him to the front door. Montaro stood in his doorway watching Larry until he was finally swallowed by the first available elevator. When Montaro took out his phone to answer, it had already stopped ringing. He called into his voice mail to hear the message, and was met with the sound of Roland Gabler’s voice. Gabler didn’t even begin with a hello.

“Who stole the coin from my safe?” he asked.