The Aeschylus Read online

  “This is important,” he said, cutting her off. “It wasn't something we could talk about before. This is an addendum for your eyes only.”

  “An addendum?”

  “Your father added it only a week ago. His instructions were very clear. He said it was only to be shown to you, and only after his burial was complete. Since that was this morning, I figured now would be the best time.” Another pause. “He was very clear.”

  She adjusted the left strap on her dress and shivered. Too skimpy for the weather, it was the only black dress she owned. “Only me?”

  “It's not for Robert, not for former staff, hell not even for me. But it's important. Can you come?”

  “Look, Godfried.” What kind of excuse could she give? She was all out. “Now's not the best time. Can we—”

  “I've already sent Lance out with the chopper. He should be at your apartment in a few minutes.”

  That was typical. That was, in fact, exactly why he and her dad had gotten along so well: no goddamned patience. “I'm not at the apartment. I'm still at the cemetery.”

  “The cemetery? What are you doing there?”

  “I don't know, do I have to come now?”

  “I'll let Lance know. See you in twenty.”

  He hung up.

  She thought about skipping town and taking a cab back to the city, but if Lance showed up and she wasn't there, Godfried would have the National Guard in play by nightfall. If she humored him one last time, she might actually get home before dark, and that was a nice thought. The cemetery here was amazingly green, the well-kept lawn broken every twenty feet or so by trees and flowers. The church, an old brick Protestant job on the eastern end, fit perfectly into the rural landscape. You couldn't even hear the highway from the center of the place. Kate missed this kind of scenery; she hadn't lived in Virginia since she was a little girl, not since her mother had been alive.

  Five minutes later, the image broke as a helicopter appeared overhead, buzzing and whirring its way onto the field. She walked towards it, pushing into the wind as the rounded metal monstrosity dipped into view. This would mark the eleventh time she'd flown in one. Two of the previous eleven times, she'd thrown up, and she prayed this wouldn't be the third. On a day like today, she just couldn't take any more.

  2

  When they touched down on the helipad in Alexandria a few minutes later, she couldn't wait to get out. Lance the pilot was one of Godfried's old Naval Academy crewman, aged enough to be her grandfather, but he still kept stealing glances at her legs every chance he got. Most days, Kate didn't know if she was good looking any more, but she thought she kept herself up all right. “You look good enough to eat, honey,” her friend Miranda liked to tell her. “Fuck thirty-seven. You look twenty-seven, and you know it.” Most days, that was well and good, but when you were trapped a thousand feet in the air with an old goat like Lance, that attitude was a curse. At times like those, she'd be perfectly happy being a cow.

  As she stepped out onto the lawn, she found herself wishing for the hundredth time that she was in jeans. When she was a kid, the only time she wore anything different was on the grass in a field hockey game. Girls who played hockey were not the pink dress wearing sort. Only the black dress wearing sort, she thought grimly.

  The estate—her godfather's place could never be called anything so plebeian as a mansion—had its own helipad, as well as its own Olympic swimming pool, garden, and statuary. It was within walking distance of Belle Haven Country Club, “One of the finest health spas south of D.C., my dear,” if you were impressed by that sort of thing. The house itself was a squat, two-story 19th Century Georgian style manor, but not without charm. She'd spent enough time running around the grounds as a child to know that.

  Collin MacNab, the estate's head of security, appeared at the end of the green and waved. He was an old man himself now, but unlike her grody pilot, Collin was charming and, as far as Kate was concerned, harmless. As always, he tried to look the stern security guard, and as always, he couldn't help but slip into a smile.

  He nodded. “I thought you might not come.”

  “I didn't think I had a choice. You know Godfried when he wants something.”

  “There's always a choice, girly,” MacNab said, walking her up the back steps. “There aren't many places to hide when the man comes looking though. I got called back from vacation enough times to know that.”

  “I didn't think security guys were allowed vacation, Nabby.”

  He reddened a little at the nickname. Always did, even after twenty-five years. “Sometimes Mister Grace felt that way, I think.”

  “I could always hide in the hedges.”

  “If you're referring to the incident—”

  “Where I disappeared?”

  “Where we had to send the state police to find you,” he finished, reaching the top and opening the French doors, “I wouldn't recommend it.”

  She shrugged. “It worked when I was eleven!”

  “And what happened when they found you?”

  “Dad grounded me,” she said. “And I got a whipping,” she added miserably.

  “Don't think the man is above that now just because your daddy's gone.”

  He put a hand on her back and walked her inside. The view from the back door always made her feel like she was entering a library. Not the pleasant kind from your local middle school, but a vast, towering maze from the imagination of Umberto Eco. The lower level glowed with the pulse of an orange fire set back in the den. Spiral stairs with carved handrails led up to the second floor mezzanine on either end of the room. And on all sides, top floor and bottom, were shelves and shelves of books. Most were of the dusty and parched variety only a lawyer could find interesting, and Godfried Grace was a lawyer's lawyer, but there were shelves full of classics too. A fine collector, the good man of the house.

  “He's waiting for you in his study,” Collin said.

  Kate left him at the foot of the stairs and ascended to the second floor. She was greeted by Chester, her godfather's big golden lab. She gave him a quick pat on the head, and he drooled appreciatively. Chester was twelve now, nearly thirteen, and it showed. He was a little better off than George the dalmatian, however, who was laying grumpily in the corner. When she waved at him, he raised his head and then promptly went back to sleep.

  “Well, at least one of you is glad to see me,” she said, finding the hall that led back to the office. Walking through almost made her glad she didn't have much money. Most of her father's inheritance had gone to her brother, and she hadn't made much as an executive assistant, even one who worked for a company as big as Valley Oil. She liked the place enough, but she thought she would go nuts living in it. It was too stale, too empty. And no place for kids, when you got right down to it. But aren't you getting a little old to think about kids, Kate?

  She shook her head. What the hell was she thinking? If she had a place like this and didn't like it, she could always sell it and trade it in for something she did like. So yeah, almost glad she didn't own it was about right.

  Kate found the door at the end of the hall and knocked.

  A muffled voice: “Come in.”

  She pushed the door open and entered her godfather's office. As always, it felt more cramped than it really was, in part due to the smells: shoe leather and papyrus and old man musk.

  “Hello, Godfried. How was your trip?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Where's your escort?”

  Straight to business, that one.

  “I sent them away.”

  “What?”

  Kate stepped inside. “Come on, Godfried. I don't need bodyguards. You and I both know that.”

  “I know no such thing.” He shuffled around the desk and gave her a hug. She noticed with some amusement that he was wearing a designer blue bathrobe that looked like it cost more than her dress. Godfried had never shared her father's views on fashion and frugality.

  “You don't just send away a security detail
, Katelyn. Are they outside? Are they watching?”

  “Well, 'sent them away' might be a bit of a stretch. I sort of gave them the slip this afternoon.”

  He stared at her, then broke into rattling, old-man laughter. “Gave them the slip? Whatever for?”

  “I guess I needed to be alone for a while. It's not like they were looking too hard. I was back at the cemetery for the better part of an hour when you called.”

  He shook his head and put one hand on his hip. “Christ Almighty, Katelyn, you are your father's daughter. Gave them the slip, indeed. How many young women do you think could have done that?”

  “I don't know. Why don't you tell me?”

  “All the wits of a CIA operative, and here you are still working as a secretary.”

  “I'm not a secretary, I'm an—”

  “Executive assistant, I know,” he finished.

  “That's actually not true either now,” she said, looking at him slyly. “I got a new job.”

  “Really? Where?”

  “Same place. But I'm not an EA any more. I'm a media relations executive, and I have my own assistant. What? You're making fun of me now,” she said, noticing the glimmer in his eyes.

  “Yes, I admit, I know all about it. And you've earned it. It doesn't look good to have the smart girl working for the dumb ones, does it?”

  “Are you still going to harp on me for not moving up the corporate ladder fast enough?”

  “Oh no. But you could have moved faster with my connections, if you weren't so stubborn to ignore them. All of that is meaningless now, though.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Sit down, dear.” He shuffled back behind his desk and took a seat, watching as she grabbed the chair across from him. He smiled. It was a grandfatherly smile, but it was impossible for Godfried not to look crafty when he showed his teeth. He had too much Clint Eastwood in him.

  “What's all this about, Godfried?”

  The old man reached into a bowl on the side of his desk and took out a peanut. He cracked it in his gnarled hands and nodded. “Tell me what you think of Valley Oil, Katelyn. I'm not interested in the public relations nonsense, mind you. I just want to know what you think of us personally.”

  She frowned. Godfried was one of her father's oldest friends, but he was also a significant shareholder. He was also on the board of directors. He had also given her a personal recommendation when more qualified candidates were spilling over the brim.

  “I don't know. To tell you the truth, I never really thought about it. I love my job. I'm grateful for it. But the company itself? The most I could tell you is that I'm impressed by them, and that's the truth.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Well, they have the fourth largest market share of gasoline on the west coast, and they're still growing. They've got the best ad campaign of all the big oil companies right now. Their slogan is catchy,” she said, picturing the green and yellow outline of their stations, the words Drive through the green Valley printed above their pumps. She waited for Godfried to respond, and when he didn't, she picked up a peanut shell and threw it at him. He didn't return her smile this time.

  “That's good, dear. Your loyalty is good. Because we have a problem now, and damned if I've ever heard of anything like it.”

  “You're killing me,” she said, only half sarcastic. “If you need someone in public relations to—”

  “This isn't about our image,” Godfried said. He was angry now, and she withdrew, surprised. “This is something serious, my dear. You'll be hearing the particulars soon enough, but it starts here, with this.” He withdrew a manila envelope out of his desk and passed it across to her. “He wanted you to have this.”

  When she took the envelope, her hands were shaking. She didn't know why, but a darkness had descended upon the room. She could feel it in the envelope's weight, in the intensity of her godfather's stare.

  She unhinged the clasp, and the contents spilled to the floor. Could there be a letter from him? The news of some scandal, or some heart-felt confession about the company? It turned out to be neither.

  “Pictures,” she whispered.

  “Satellite images, photographs, blueprints. Do you know what they're from?”

  “They're from Aeschylus.”

  The Aeschylus Platform had been one of the largest public relations pitches handled by Kate's department in the past two years. She had only been an EA when the campaign was heating up, but information about the project had percolated through the office months in advance. Deep in the south Atlantic, the two-point-two billion dollar platform was Valley Oil's crowning jewel, an engineering marvel made possible by VO's acquisition of several sub-sea drilling companies in the preceding decade. At the time, its construction was a large financial gamble, but The Aeschylus, as well as several smaller platforms to the north, were supposed to escalate VO's yield by three hundred thousand barrels per day. The real problem, however, was that VO had to go to extreme lengths to satisfy the Protocol on Environmental Protection for Antarctica since they were located only a few hundred miles north of solid land. In many respects, the real audience of the marketing campaign had not been the general public, who cared as little about where their oil came from as the cows on their dinner plates, but the U.N. And the U.N. was not a force that could be lobbied, greased, or otherwise moved in the way other businesses could. In the end, Argentina, who would receive a huge economic boost through sub-contracted labor on the platform's construction, helped win international approval, but it took months.

  “Have you seen these?” she asked.

  “No, but, after hearing the news from my contacts this evening, I'm not surprised.”

  “What news? What are you talking about, Godfried?”

  “All communication from the platform has ceased. They suspect some kind of terrorist attack, something like that. I don't know the details.”

  “Jesus! Is the military—”

  “No one knows about this, Katelyn. In fact, not even I'm supposed to know. They're holding an emergency board meeting tomorrow morning, and you're going to be there.”

  “Me? Are they looking for a way to spin this?”

  “You're not going as an executive, dear.”

  “What do you mean, I'm not going as an executive? What are you getting at, old man?”

  “Relax, dear. Have a seat.” She hadn't even realized she had gotten to her feet and pushed her butt back down, embarrassed. “You forget the reason I called you here. Your inheritance, remember?”

  The reading had been two days ago, and she could barely recall any of it. She vaguely remembered getting the deed to her father's Mercedes, the family china, and a few knick-knacks. Bobby had gotten the condo on Independence Avenue, their summer home in Connecticut, the yacht and the jet skis on the Chesapeake pier, the other cars, and various other items he seemed to appreciate. The liquid cash had all gone to his favorite charities since the family didn't need it, and his positions on various committees and boards were already being filled. Mensa would probably be honoring him with a chess dinner, or whatever those types did.

  “I don't care about the assets,” she said.

  Her godfather's stony visage cracked, and he looked amused again. “Really?”

  “I loved my father, Godfried. I'm not going to squabble over the scraps. And what does all this have to do with an emergency at the platform?”

  “You do know your father was a board member, correct? He still had many friends at the company, which is where he came by those images, I'm sure.”

  “Oh yes, I remember. I always figured you had the bigger influence, though.”

  Godfried chuckled. “He was the largest shareholder in the country, Katelyn. He had twice the pull that I do. I know my position on the board offers me a lot of leverage, but at the end of the day, everyone answers to the shareholders.” Godfried was staring now, his green eyes burrowing into her. “The fact is, your father had a phenomenal stake. The fact is, most of his fortun
e came from Valley Oil before you and your brother were even born. Did you know that?”

  Kate crossed her legs nervously. Her dress was too short, and she had to smooth down the hem with one hand. “And?”

  “And he left it to you. His VO stock, I mean. Not to Robert and certainly not to me. To you. All of it.”

  It took a moment for it to sink in. Kate stopped fidgeting with her dress and looked across the desk. “What?”

  “Three hundred and eighty-three thousand, one hundred seventeen shares. I just looked up the share price while you were on your way in. It's sitting at eighty-four dollars a share. Do the math.”

  “What?” she repeated.

  And now Godfried really was smiling again, the crafty gunfighter showing through every crevice and age line. “You'll be at that meeting tomorrow not as an executive, but as the biggest oil shareholder in the country. In the meantime, I think it's best you let your security detail resume, don't you?”

  “Do I... do I...” Whatever she wanted to know, she couldn't finish. Her whole body was trembling.

  Godfried winked. “You're rich, sweetheart.”

  3

  Twelve hours later, Kate found herself on the top floor of Valley Oil's D.C. corporate offices. Imitation Victorian-era art lined the walls, statues decorated a nearby fountain, the rug beneath her feet probably cost as much as her car. It was oddly quiet, and oddly serene. If she closed her eyes, she could hear the gentle tap of the keyboard from the administrative receptionist, but that was all. The receptionist herself was a sculpted, bronzed figure, probably only a few years out of college. When Kate asked her name, she said, “My name? Oh! That's Merrie, dear. M-E-R-R-I-E, if you're interested,” though Kate wasn't.

  She didn't have to wait long. An attractive man in his late forties strode past the reception desk and extended a hand to her just as she was getting comfortable. “Hello, Miss McCreedy. It's good to finally meet you in person.”

  “Likewise, Mister Lucian.”

  Michael Lucian was Valley Oil's head of international projects. Everything about the man was striking, from the sharp lines of his features to the colors he chose to accent his looks. His suit was a beautiful gray, the blue in his tie perfectly matching the blue in his eyes. The effect was planned but still disarming. Although Godfried had been keen to keep her inheritance a secret, now that the cat was out of the bag, it seemed everyone who was anyone at the company wanted to meet her.