Mania (11 page)

Nick waited for Hamlin to drop his eyes, then reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the small, high-resolution digital camera he carried when it wasn’t convenient to lug around one of his SLRs. His first picture was a broad canvas of the room, which he would be able to enhance later on his computer. Then he zoomed in on the two men and took a close-up of their faces. He checked the screen to make sure he had captured a good picture, then slipped the camera back into his jacket and cut through the guests, heading toward them. Nick had meant it when he told Laura Daly that he didn’t feel comfortable taking pictures here for the paper. He didn’t want to betray Sara’s trust. Seeing Hamlin with this other man, though, had piqued Nick’s interest, and, despite his reluctance, he wanted to figure out who the man was.

Hamlin was a good three or four inches taller than the other, mustached man, and he was leaning into him, crowding him. As Nick closed the distance between them, he could see the man’s unease. Sweat had gathered on the man’s forehead, above his bushy eyebrows.
Where had he seen him before?
This was a man with authority, a man used to getting his way, but Hamlin was making him nervous. Before Nick was able to get closer, Hamlin led the man away from the party, directing him through one of the open doorways into the concert hall.

“Have you seen Sara?”

A tall, thin man was standing in front of Nick, waiting for a response. “Sara?”

“You’re Sara’s date, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

The man held out his hand. “Grant Jones,” he said. “I’m an old friend of Sara’s. Can’t seem to find her anywhere.”

“Nick Wilder,” Nick said distractedly.

“I saw her going upstairs with her mother,” another man said. “About five minutes ago. I was looking for her, too.”

“If you’ll excuse me,” Nick said. He pushed past the two men in front of him, making his way to the doorway where Hamlin had disappeared, ignoring the voices behind him.
Where did Sara meet him? You know, I have no idea. Just like Sara—she’s always been headstrong
.

The hubbub of the party fell away as Nick stepped through the doors into the empty auditorium, replaced by the crisp notes of the Seattle symphony performing without an audience on the stage far beneath him. He scanned the rows of plush seats until he spied the diminutive figures of Hamlin and his guest seated in the middle of the auditorium. The man’s sweaty face glowed red with the reflection of the velvet covering the seats. Nick reached for his small camera to get another picture of the two men.

“Excuse me, sir. There’s no photography allowed in here.”

Nick hadn’t heard the guard approach, and his command gave him a jolt. He swiveled toward him, surprised by how large the man was. The guard’s voice had traveled through the empty auditorium. Jason Hamlin turned to face him as well.

“I’ve never seen the concert hall empty like this before,” Nick said.

The imposing guard took a small step toward him until he was uncomfortably close. Before Sara slid next to him, Nick thought the man was going to wrench the camera out of his hand.

“It’s okay,” Sara said. “He’s with me.” She nodded a discreet greeting to her father, then took Nick’s elbow and led him back to the gala.

Unable to sleep, Nick was behind the wheel of his old Corolla before eight the next morning, on his way in to the
Telegraph
. He twisted the key in the ignition, then released the parking brake. The car was rolling across the lot when a black stretch limousine glided to the curb, blocking his exit. He waited behind the wheel, contemplating the limousine. It took him a few seconds to understand that its driver was intentionally penning him into the lot. Nick tried to peer through its obscured windows, then, flustered, stepped out of his car.

The limousine’s side window slid down with a high-pitched mechanical hum as Nick approached, and he found himself looking down into the eyes of the large bodyguard who had accosted him inside the auditorium.

“Nick Wilder?”

Nick nodded, taken aback.

“I’ve been instructed to pick you up, sir.”

Nick glanced over his shoulder at his car. He had left the motor running when he got out. “What’s this about?”

“Mr. Hamlin sent me. He would like you to come downtown to meet him.”

“For what reason?”

“That’s not my business, sir.”

“I’ll follow you, then.”

The large man didn’t smile. “No, sir. Those aren’t my orders.”

“I see.” Nick tried to peer into the back of the car, to see whether it was empty, but the windows were too dark. “Give me a minute,” he said, making up his mind. “I have to park my car.”

“As you wish, sir.”

Fifteen minutes later, the limousine pulled into the basement of one of the tallest buildings in downtown Seattle. As the car started down the ramp into the garage, Nick glanced up through the moon roof at the building’s glossy green glass façade. It was a cold, dark morning, and the skyscraper seemed to disappear into a cloud of drizzly mist. After pulling to a stop on the first level, the bodyguard accompanied Nick into the elevator and pressed the button for the top floor. The ultra-sleek elevator whined as it accelerated powerfully upward. Seconds later, its doors slid open to reveal a suite of private offices drenched in natural light.

Despite how dreary it had been at the base of the building, it was so bright atop the tower that Nick had to shield his eyes. He squinted toward a wall of windows, surprised to find that the elevator had carried them above the fog. Tips of the taller buildings poked through the blanket of mist. Taking in the expansive view, Nick had the sensation that he was riding over the clouds in a plane.

“This way, sir,” the bodyguard said. At eight o’clock, the offices were empty. Nick followed the bodyguard down a long, teak-paneled corridor to a door at its end.

Jason Hamlin, cleanly shaven and dressed casually in jeans and a charcoal sweater, was seated behind a massive desk in a room that spanned the length of the penthouse suite. Framed by a wall of glass, the view behind him stretched all the way to the Olympic Mountains. He didn’t stand to greet Nick when the guard rapped on the solid door. Dismissing the guard, he let Nick traverse the spacious office to the edge of the huge desk, then, leaning back comfortably, waved a hand at a couple of guest chairs. “Take a seat,” he instructed, making no pretense at civility.

Nick stood in front of him, surveying the room. Three flat-panel plasma displays lined the far wall, each of them tuned mutely to a different program. An Oriental carpet covered the floor. In Hamlin’s presence, he felt ragged and poorly dressed. He hadn’t slept well, and he had gone straight from bed to the car. He ran a hand over his unshaven face, then through his unkempt hair. At last, realizing that Hamlin was waiting for him, he sat down. “I’ve never seen such an extraordinary view,” he said.

“Let’s dispense with the bullshit, Wilder. Okay?”

Nick knew that this wasn’t a social call, but Hamlin’s ugly candor surprised him. “What’s this about?” Nick asked. “Exactly.”

“No great mystery there, Wilder. I’m surprised you even have to ask.” Hamlin leaned forward in his chair and set his forearms down on the edge of the massive desk. “You’re going out with my daughter. I thought it was time we get acquainted.”

“You do this with all her friends?” The words were out of Nick’s mouth before he had the opportunity to reflect whether it was a good idea to provoke the powerful man.

“Only the ones she’s sleeping with,” Hamlin said with an unexpected smile. “I’m a pretty protective father. Some people might say overprotective.” He shrugged and loosened his neck, a fighter stepping into a ring. “Sara’s a beautiful girl.”

“Does she know about this?”

“This meeting?” Hamlin laughed. “Hell no. And she’s not going to know about it, either. Is she, Wilder? I think this is something best kept between men.” He settled back in his chair, keeping Nick in his sights.

Nick was distracted by the artwork hanging on the wall. Hamlin appeared to own an original Warhol and a small Picasso oil-on-canvas. Nick didn’t know whether the art held any significance for Hamlin. But he recognized that the paintings served their purpose. The wealth they represented was staggering. He returned his attention to the older man, awed despite himself. “So what is this, then,” he said, trying to regain some of his righteousness at Hamlin’s presumption. “Some kind of inquisition? You want me to convince you I’m worthy of your daughter?”

“Something like that,” Hamlin said. “Only don’t kid yourself. I already know who you are, and you’ll never be worthy of Sara.” He reached across the glistening desktop to a thin manila folder lying in its center and flipped it open, revealing an eight-by-ten black-and-white photograph. After looking at it himself, he slid it across the desk toward Nick. Nick recognized the photograph. He didn’t move to touch it. “You’ve been seeing Sara for about a month now. You didn’t think that I might do a little background check on you in the meantime?”

Nick shook his head. As obvious as it was, the thought had never crossed his mind.

“That’s the photograph that landed you the job at the
Seattle Telegraph
. Am I right?”

“I had the job already,” Nick said, “when I took that picture.”

“You were on probation. After that picture, you were a photographer.”

“I guess that’s right.”

“A group of tree huggers protesting the construction of the new science lab at the university. Huh?”

Nick was conscious that Hamlin was trying to intimidate him. “The university’s private security company decided forcibly to remove the protestors one night,” he said, “despite the court’s stay of the proceeding against them. I just happened to be there that night. So I snapped a few pictures.”

“You have any idea how much those pictures cost me?”

Nick was confused. “How could this picture hurt you? It didn’t have anything to do with you.”

“Because of this one little picture, the court placed a permanent injunction on the project. Take a guess whose company had been awarded the contract to build that hundred-million-dollar science lab.”

Nick didn’t know what to say. He glanced down at the photograph. A university security guard had reached up into a tree and grabbed hold of a protestor by the ankle. Nick had focused the shot on a student calmly looking back at him from the middle of the melee, but the photograph had caught the protestor frozen in his rough flight to the ground. The guard’s face was a reflection of his exertion, the protestor’s a shocked question mark of surprise.

“It was a good photograph,” Nick said. “I’m sorry if it inadvertently cost you some money.”

The older man harrumphed. “A one hundred million dollar contract. Not just
some money
.” He furrowed his brow, determined to maintain control of the conversation. “I knew your brother,” he said. “Sam. Did you know that?”

The words gave Nick a small jolt. He knew already that Hamlin had been fronting Sam’s company start-up funding. There was enormous money chasing biotech projects in Seattle, and Sam and his partner, Blake Werner, had been on to something big. Nick hadn’t realized, though, that Hamlin had known Sam personally, by name. Nick made an effort not to reveal his surprise. “Sure,” he said. “I guess I’d heard.”

“He was an ambitious man, your brother. A real determined man. He had his eyes on the prize, and he wasn’t going to let anything or anyone stand in his way. It’s unfortunate he was murdered, and I feel for you. Believe it or not, I really do.”

Nick felt himself bristle. Sam had only been dead a week. His mutilated body still lay in a mortuary, released by the police the day before.

“The question in my mind, though,” Hamlin continued, oblivious to Nick’s increasing indignation, “isn’t how much compassion I’m supposed to be showing you. It’s whether my daughter should be sleeping with some stranger whose brother just got himself stabbed to death on the street. Sara deserves the best this world’s got to offer. I’m sure you’d agree, wouldn’t you?” He closed the manila folder over the photograph. “You’re damaged goods, Wilder. A wounded stray.”

Nick liked Hamlin less with every passing moment. His hands were sweaty and his chest was tight, but he couldn’t find his voice. Against his resolve, he had allowed the older man to bully him.

“Here’s the way I see it.” Hamlin leaned forward, engulfed in the glare of the bright light streaming through the huge plate of glass behind him. “Picture yourself at a crossroads. Looking one way, you’ve got a good job, a promising future. You’re a talented photographer. I’ll give you that. You make the right decision now, and there’s no telling how far you’ll go. Walk down the other road, though, and what do you see?” Hamlin’s icy blue eyes bored holes into Nick’s face. “Sara?” Hamlin’s lips formed an empty smile. “Do you honestly believe that you’ve got any sort of a future with Sara? Just how long do you think she’ll stay with you?”

Nick broke his silence. “If that’s true,” he heard himself say, “if she’s just playing with me, then why are we having this conversation?” His voice cracked, his heart pounded in his chest. All at once he could barely contain his rage. “Why did you feel the need to drag me down here to your office to threaten me?”

Hamlin continued looking at Nick, trying to stare him down. Nick returned his gaze, practically choking on his breath. At last, lacing his hands behind his head, the older man leaned back in his chair and raised his eyes to the ceiling. “Get out of my office, Wilder,” he said. “From now on, I’m going to be watching you. Understand?” The chair groaned beneath him. “Consider yourself warned.”

Nick was turning the confrontation with Jason Hamlin over in his mind later that morning. He was determined not to let the powerful man’s threats deter him. With the rush of everything happening around him, the single stable element in his life was Sara. Not just emotionally, but practically as well. In the days since Sam’s murder, when decisions had to be made, Sara had helped Nick make them. She had even been the one to organize the disposal of Sam’s body. After the police released Sam’s remains to a mortuary, Sara had taken it upon herself to visit the director, and without telling Nick she had paid for the cremation. Sara had become part of his life. Nick needed her, no matter what the consequence.

Nick stopped walking in front of a small antique jewelry store downtown. A long, thin silver chain with delicate, flattened links, scintillating in a halogen beam, had caught his eye. He glanced up at the lettering on the awning above the storefront, then approached the window. He hesitated, aware that his finances were pretty well tapped out until the payout on Sam’s insurance policy came through. Then he made up his mind and opened the door. He needed something tangible to demonstrate the depth of his feelings to Sara. Perhaps this chain wasn’t much, especially to a person used to real jewelry. Nevertheless, Nick wanted to see it around Sara’s neck.