Sins of the Fathers (68 page)

I hung up, glanced at my watch and decided that since I’d bought myself some extra time I might as well make the most of it.
After I was dressed I lingered over some black coffee but finally when the moment could be postponed no longer I set off,
feeling as naked as any ancient Celt who had rushed screaming into battle, and made my silent, well-dressed,
immaculately controlled way downtown to Wall Street to fight for my professional life.

[3]

The sun shone as I walked down the Street past Morgan’s to the corner of Willow and Wall. The doorman at the bank greeted
me with a smile, and I forced myself to make a leisurely progress down the great hall as I exchanged a few words with my partners
who worked there. In the back lobby I moved swiftly past the closed doors of Cornelius’ office and ran up the back stairs
but before I entered my room I made sure I was breathing evenly. This was going to be my dress rehearsal. I had to practise
being as casual and relaxed as any other carefree bachelor just returned from a successful vacation in the Caribbean.

I flung open the door. My secretary and personal assistant were standing by my desk like victims awaiting a firing squad,
and I remembered belatedly that Scott never discussed his vacations but immediately got on with the job of packing twenty-five
hours’ work into a twenty-four-hour day.

‘Hi!’ I said, thinking what hell Scott must have been to work for. ‘How are things?’

They gaped at me but decided my cheerful inquiry was just a temporary aberration.

‘Scott, Mr Van Zale wants to see you right away—’

‘—and there’s a crisis at Hammaco—’

‘—and the computer’s broken down—’

‘—and there are urgent messages from—’

I thought: what a boring life Scott had, dealing daily with all this crap. ‘Hold it!’ I protested. ‘Relax! Let them all wait!
How have you two been doing?’

They stared at me open-mouthed.

‘Well,’ said my secretary at last, ‘I guess we’re still recovering from the assassination. Scott, hadn’t you better call Mr
Van Zale? He did say “right away”.’

The phone rang.

‘I’m not in yet,’ I said, taking off my coat.

My secretary got rid of the caller.

‘Who was that?’ I said, glancing vaguely at my accumulated correspondence.

‘Donald Shine.’

‘Donald who?’

This time both my secretary and my personal assistant looked at me as if I were certifiable.

‘Donald Shine! Don’t tell us you’ve forgotten the young kid from Brooklyn who wants to start a computer-leasing business!
He wanted to know when you could have lunch with him.’

‘Oh, Donald Shine! Sure, call him back and fix something. Where’s that new beautiful blonde from the typing pool with my coffee?’

Their gasps were audible. My secretary even dropped her notepad. I was still laughing at them when the red phone jangled,
making me jump. I took care to let it ring three times, and then sitting down on the edge of my desk I picked up the receiver
and said cheerfully: ‘Sullivan!’

There was a pause. That was when I remembered that Scott always just said ‘Yes?’ or ‘Hi!’ when he answered the red phone.

‘Cornelius!’ I said swiftly.

‘Scott?’ He sounded odd. The inflection in his voice turned my name into a question.

‘Who else?’

There was another pause. Then he said in his politest voice: ‘Could I see you right away, please?’

‘Sure, I’ll be right down.’ I replaced the receiver and stood up. ‘Okay, you two, I’ll see you later. Keep the home fires
burning.’

They gazed at me speechlessly as I left the room.

It was only when I reached the back lobby that my nerve failed me and I had to pause. I was appalled to realize I was scared
and not just of the approaching battle which I still felt confident I could win. I was frightened of Cornelius. I was no longer
passionless, steel-nerved Scott who could regard him without emotion. I could only think that since Scott was dead it was
I
who now had to confront this man who had twisted my life in ways which Scott had never permitted me to dwell upon. I dwelt
upon them. I wanted to vomit. I felt not only frightened but physically ill with my horror and revulsion.

I opened the door. He was there. I walked into the room. I felt I should be shaking, even shuddering, but I moved as smoothly
as if I hadn’t a care in the world, and Cornelius was moving smoothly too, standing up and coming around his desk to meet
me. Beyond him the sun was shining palely on the gaunt branches of the magnolia tree in the patio, and above the fireplace
the violent reds and blacks of the Kandinsky masterpiece looked like a mutilated corpse painted by a madman. The folding doors
which divided the double-chamber were closed and the effect was to make the room infinitely more sinister and confined.

I stopped but Cornelius moved on. He walked up to me with his hand outstretched and gave me his warmest smile.

‘Hi!’ he said. ‘Welcome back! It’s good to see you again!’

I shook his hand without a word. I felt as muddled as I had felt in my teens when he had been so kind to me all the while
he was brainwashing me against my father. I had forgotten what it was like to feel so intolerably confused. Scott had protected
me from Cornelius with that wall of emotional detachment, but now the wall was in ruins and all the old wounds were breaking
open in my mind. I didn’t know it was possible to live with such pain and still remain conscious. I had a craving for brandy,
a lot of brandy, poured neat into a huge glass.

‘Are you okay?’ said Cornelius.

I thought of my father dying while drunk. The desire for brandy died. And so did my fear. Looking at the man before me I felt
nothing but the darkest, most primitive rage.

I clamped down on it, struggled, somehow got it under control. It was perhaps the most supreme effort of will I had ever made.
Then I said in a pleasant voice: ‘I’m just fine, Cornelius, but I admit it’s been the hell of a morning. However, I don’t
want to bore you with all the trials and tribulations of my private life. I know you’ve always disapproved strongly of partners
airing their private lives at the office.’

‘That’s right. I have,’ he said, smiling at me to signal his approval of my good sense, and turned towards the doors which
divided the two rooms. ‘By the way, I’ve postponed that meeting on the London office,’ he added over his shoulder. ‘In the
circumstances I thought a preliminary discussion would be helpful.’

‘A preliminary discussion?’ I said surprised. ‘Okay, sure. Just as you like.’

He had opened the doors and now he gestured to me to precede him into the other half of the room. I walked past him and stopped.

The notorious digital dock was still standing on the mantelshelf. The equally notorious Scandinavian couch was still standing
before the hearth like an empty slab at the morgue. And Sebastian was standing by the window.

[4]

‘Sebastian’s been talking to me,’ said Cornelius, breaking the silence as he idly tested the mantel for dust with his finger
and watched us both in the mirror above the fireplace. ‘Sebastian’s been propounding a
number of dramatic and interesting theories. I think you ought to hear these theories, Scott. Because believe it or not, they’re
all about you.’

‘Great!’ I said at once. ‘Well, I’ve got some theories too, and believe it or not they’re all about Sebastian. Why don’t we
have an exchange of information?’

‘Why not?’ agreed Cornelius sociably. ‘But before we start, let me make one point clear: Vicky’s name is not to be mentioned
in this discussion. Her private life is her own affair and I’ve long since vowed never to interfere with it again. So if either
of you have plans to use Vicky as a pawn in your games with each other, you can forget them. I’m not interested in who happens
to be her current lover. It’s immaterial to me.’

‘Wait a minute,’ said Sebastian.

I jumped but he wasn’t looking at me. He was looking at his stepfather, and Cornelius was assuming his most patient, long-suffering
expression.

‘Is this an act?’ said Sebastian. ‘I find it hard to believe you could really be this dumb. This guy’s screwing you all along
the line, Cornelius! And when he’s finally succeeded in screwing you all the way off the map it won’t be your portrait he’ll
hang on the wall of this office after he’s changed the bank’s name to Sullivan’s – it’ll be his father’s!’

Cornelius sighed, leaned wearily against the mantel and turned to me with resignation. ‘Okay, Scott, your turn. You want to
answer that? Go ahead. You do it so well. I’ve always admired the way you have the perfect answer for all these awkward accusations
that crop up from time to time.’

‘And I’ve always admired the way you’ve been smart enough to see the truth, Cornelius! Sebastian, if you think I’m motivated
by revenge you understand absolutely nothing—’

‘Never mind what motivates you!’ shouted Sebastian. ‘You’re so mixed up and creepy and just plain odd that your motivation
doesn’t matter. What matters is that you want this bank and once it’s yours you’ll wipe out all trace of Cornelius as efficiently
as he wiped out all trace of your father! It’s all so goddamned obvious—’

‘Sure it’s obvious – to a man who’s out of his mind with jealousy!’

‘Why you—’

I swung round on Cornelius who was watching us as if he were a latter-day Zeus on Olympus, an all-Powerful god casting an
interested eye on the squabble of two minor deities. ‘There are no prizes for guessing what motivates Sebastian, Cornelius
– his motives at least are crystal clear! He knows you’ll never recall him from Europe so he’s
manoeuvred himself into a position where you have no choice but to bring him back, and once he’s back he’ll use his mother’s
influence over you to get what he wants here at Willow and Wall. And once he gets what he wants, Cornelius, do you really
think he’ll raise a finger later to help your grandsons whom he’s always detested? And do you really think he’ll keep the
bank’s name Van Zale’s in memory of a man he’s always secretly despised? He’s the one you want to watch, Cornelius! He’s the
one who’s out to make trouble! My conduct in New York has always been exemplary, but can you say as much for his recent conduct
in London?’

‘Okay, okay, okay,’ said Cornelius. ‘Nicely said, very impressive, I take your point. Now let’s calm down, shall we, boys,
and discuss this rationally. I’m not interested in watching the two of you conducting an overheated slanging match. Sebastian,
what’s all this nonsense about you feeling you had to engineer your recall from Europe? It was your decision to go to London
back in 1960, remember, and it was a very unpopular decision with your mother. If you wanted to return to New York, all you
had to do was ask.’

‘You goddamned hypocrite!’ blazed Sebastian with such force that Cornelius recoiled. ‘It might have been my decision to go
to London for a while but you were delighted – you couldn’t wait to get rid of me! And you didn’t just want to get rid of
me because you thought – getting the wrong end of the stick as usual where Vicky’s concerned – that I’d messed up your daughter’s
life! You wanted me out of the way because my absence meant you’d have Mother’s undivided attention – Christ, and to think
you have the nerve to stand by and let this creep accuse
me
of jealousy! You’ve been jealous of my place in Mother’s life for as long as I can remember!’

Cornelius moved to the folding doors. ‘This discussion is terminated. I’ve not time to waste listening to such irrational
hysteria.’

‘This is no irrational hysteria, Cornelius – this is known as calling a spade a spade! Okay, let me call your bluff. Bring
me back here from London! If all I have to do is ask, then okay, I’ll ask. But I’ll tell you one thing: if I come back,
he
has to go. You may be content to sit back and let him screw your bank and screw your daughter, but—’

Cornelius said simply: ‘You’re fired,’ and walking into the main half of his office he opened the French doors and stepped
out into the patio without a backward glance.

There was a silence. Sebastian and I were struck dumb. Beyond the patio doors Cornelius had found the packet of seed he kept
for the birds and was busy feeding a couple of pigeons.

Finally Sebastian moved, bumping awkwardly against the desk and banging wide one of the French doors.

‘You’re crazy. You can’t do this. You just can’t do it.’

‘I’m senior partner of this bank with absolute authority to hire and fire as I please, and no man, not even my wife’s favourite
son, tells me how to run my firm.’ Cornelius replaced the packet of bird-seed in the ornamental urn, dusted his hands and
stepped back into the room.

Sebastian followed him. I still hadn’t moved.

‘Get out, would you,’ said Cornelius as he sat down at his desk and casually rustled a stack of papers. ‘I doubt if there’s
anything you can usefully add to the conversation.’

‘But Scott – what about Scott?’

‘Scott’s no concern of yours, not any more.’

‘But—’

Cornelius rose to his feet so swiftly that Sebastian backed away. Then leaning forward with both hands on his desk he said
in his clearest voice: ‘This conversation, like your career at Van Zale’s, is now absolutely at an end. Got it? It’s over.
It’s finished. I have nothing else to say.’

Sebastian went very white. Without a word he stumbled to the door, but before he left the room he looked back. ‘I hope he
screws you into the grave, you bastard!’ he said in a shaking voice. ‘But if you’re still alive after he’s finished with you,
don’t you come crawling to me for help in putting your life’s work back together again – not unless you offer me the senior
partnership and your own resignation from power!’

The door slammed. Cornelius sat down, loosened his tie and took a pill from a small gold box. I waited. Finally he looked
at me. It was a remote cold empty look.

‘And so,’ he said, ‘we come to you. Can you give me one good reason why I shouldn’t now fire you right along with Sebastian
as you so obviously and so richly deserve?’