Syndrome, Thomas Hoover [best free e reader txt] 📗

know, with absolute certainty, who she was talking about, but surely it had to be… My God, he thought with a thrill, maybe it worked. Maybe I’ve smoked him out.

“Truth tellers have nothing to fear, Rhonda.” He winked at her. “I’m protected by the sword of the Lord. ‘He is my rod and my staff. He leadeth me beside still waters.’”

“You’re crazy, you know that?” She’d remembered where she was and began putting the cigarette back into the pack. Then she smoothed her short black hair. “He leadeth you into the shit, handsome. That’s where He ‘leadeth’ you. You’re adorable, but you’re also a sane person’s nightmare.”

“Thanks,” he said giving a thumbs-up as he walked past her desk. “I appreciate your unstinting praise.”

He headed on down the hall, the plush gray carpet soft against his feet. Could this be the break? he wondered feeling his hopes cautiously rising. Had the Big Man himself shown up? Could it be that there was something funny going on with that patient who got dropped?

But what? He still didn’t have a clue.

As he walked into the room, he felt as though time just stopped. He had fantasized about this moment more and more as the years went by. Now here it was. What next? He thought he had been emotionally prepared, but now he realized he wasn’t. Were they going to acknowledge the past, or were they just going to act as though nothing existed between them?

That first chance meeting, when Stone was eleven, had been when his mother threatened to sue Bartlett for formal child support. The threat of publicity caused the matter to be immediately settled, as she’d hoped it would be. Stone had been sitting in the law firm’s reception area when Bartlett walked through. Each knew who the other was, but Bartlett just stopped and glared at him for a moment before moving cm. Stone had sized up the man who had abandoned his mother and only barely managed to suppress an urge to leap up and lash out at him, if only to say, Look at me. I’m here.

He had not been in the same room with his father since, but this time around he was definitely noticed.

Winston Bartlett looked just as he did in news photos. He was in his late sixties, with thinning blond hair that was cut too long and shaggy in the back. Stone’s first thought was that the tightfisted old rou6 should spring for a better barber.

But it was Bartlett’s eyes that really caught him. They were strong and filled with anger, but they also contained a hint of desperation. They were very different eyes from the haughty dismissal he remembered from a lifetime ago.

Good, Stone thought. I’ve finally made you squirm, Daddy dearest. Nothing else I’ve done has ever gotten the slightest notice from you.

For a moment they stood sizing up each other.

“Stone,” Jane said, “this is—”

“I know,” he said.

Even though they had been practically married, he had never told her that he was the unacknowledged son of Winston Bartlett. He had never told anyone. To him, his father had died before he was born and that was the story he stuck to.

He naturally had a lot of complex feelings about that. He had seen his mother struggling to give them a decent life, hoofing in the chorus line of Broadway shows long after she should have, and a lot of his anger remained. Now, though, Stone Aimes wanted nothing from the old man. Except the truth.

“Miss Tully,” Bartlett barked, glowering at her, “I think you’d better leave us alone.”

“Of course,” Jane said with a wry look, and in a tactful instant she had slipped past them and out, gently closing the office door behind her.

“I don’t believe it,” Bartlett said turning back after he watched her leave. “You’re trying to blackmail me, you little prick. Which tells me you’re not half as smart as I thought you were.”

Wait a minute! Did that mean Winston Bartlett has been following my career? Stone felt a thrill in spite of himself.

“I never knew you thought about me, one way or the other.”

He was experiencing a curious sensation. Although he was in the same room with his father for only the second time in his life, it felt natural. They were having one of those age-old arguments. The younger generation had just challenged the older generation, and because of that sparks were set to fly.

This was the kind of thing that was supposed to happen between fathers and sons all the time. In fact, it felt good. It felt normal. More than that, he was finally being acknowledged.

My God, he thought, I share DNA with this man and yet we have so little in common.

Then he had a more scary thought: Maybe we have a lot in common.

“I think it’s time you told me what the hell you’re up to,” Bartlett declared, ignoring the jibe. “How did you—”

“I’m trying to do us both a favor, but you’re not cooperating. If the Gerex clinical trials are going half as well as I think they are, then it seems to me you’ve got everything to gain by publicity. I’m trying to write the first book that tells the Gerex story. So why the hell won’t your legal flunkies let me interview Karl Van de Vliet?”

“That’s actually none of your business.” Bartlett’s eyes abruptly turned cloudy. “I want you to stay the hell away from—”

“Right now I’m the best friend you’ve got in this world. Believe me.” Stone couldn’t believe he was saying this. For how many years had he loathed and despised this man? But now, for the first time, he actually needed something from him. “I want to tell the real story of what Van de Vliet has accomplished. What Gerex has accomplished. It’ll be the latest word on stem cell technology. But your office keeps giving me the runaround.”

“We have a damned good reason to keep our work proprietary just now,” Bartlett declared. “This is like the Manhattan Project.” His eyes bored in. “The results of the clinical trials are going to cause a press feeding frenzy, and I want to be in a position to control that when the time comes.”

This is incredible, Stone told himself. We ‘re talking as though we have no history. You have a granddaughter by me whom you’ve never even seen. Don’t you at least care about her?

“I’ve got a pretty good idea of what Gerex is doing and I think it’s going to be a milestone in medical history.” Stone looked at him, trying to figure him out after all these years. For all his bluster, Winston Bartlett seemed like a man with a lot of vulnerabilities and insecurities. He hadn’t expected it. “It so happens I’m a damned good medical reporter and all I’m asking is to be the Boswell to Van de Vliet’s Johnson. I want to be the one to chronicle this historic moment. There’s no one who can do it better, believe me. Ill even agree to embargo everything until I get a green light from Gerex. But I want to start now and get it right”

“You can’t ethically know any details of the work,” Bartlett declared. “So the question I’m waiting to hear answered is, how did you find out-?”

“I can’t reveal my source.” Because, he told himself, I still don’t have one. All 1 have is guesswork. “But I know that Karl Van de Vliet is running the first successful clinical trials using stem cell procedures. And I’m going to report on it whether you want me to or not. So are you going to help make sure my facts are accurate?”

“I’m going to help make sure there’s no reporting at all till I say so,” Bartlett went on. “Anything you print will be-by definition-irresponsible speculation and you can expect enough legal action to—”

“The original schedule was that they’ll be finished in less than a month. I’m not going to publish anything before that I just want to have the manuscript I’ve been working on ready when the Gerex story finally can be told. It’ll be the final chapter, the payoff. I’m going to describe your clinical trials, and it would be better for all concerned if it could be the ‘authorized’ version. If you force me to publish without your cooperation, it’s not going to do either one of us as much good.”

Again he wondered why Bartlett was so upset. What was it about that one terminated patient that made him freak when he found out somebody knew? So freaked he charged up here personally, all the way from his fancy corporate building in TriBeCa, to breathe fire and brimstone and yell threats?

“Do I have to get a court injunction to put a stop to this corporate espionage?” Bartlett demanded.

“Everything I know is in the public domain somewhere.” Actually, Stone thought that’s a serious out-and-out lie. Nobody knows that a patient got mysteriously terminated from the trials. “I just want to work together with you.”

Even as he was saying it, Stone Aimes realized that it was not in the cards, now or ever. He watched Winston Bartlett’s eyes narrow.

“What kind of contract do you have with this paper?”

“Quite frankly, the terms of the contracts for employees of this paper are confidential.”

“I knew I should have kept those fucking lawyers here. It takes a shark to deal with a shark.” Then he seemed to catch himself. “So if you’re planning on writing anything about this, you’d be well advised to get yourself an attorney, because you’re sure as hell going to need one.”

“Thanks, Dad.” It just came out. Maybe he’d been wanting to say it all his life.

Bartlett’s look was shock for a moment, and then it turned pensive.

“You don’t think I take an interest in you, but I do.”

“Yeah, you’ve really been around through thick and thin.” He felt the old anger of abandonment welling up.

“I took care of your mother. Whatever she did was beyond my control.” The eyes were switching to chagrin. “Do you have the slightest idea what I could do for you? I’ve… I’m not getting any younger and I’ve been thinking about… with your medical background you could easily have a place… I mean, if you’ve got a head for business, then someday… So why do you fucking want to do this now? “

Stone listened, trying to internalize what he was hearing. Not only did Winston Bartlett know about him, he was finally thinking about acknowledging him. Sort of.

Or was this just a bribe to hush him up?

Either way, it was too little, too late.

“You’ve never given me anything and I’ve sure as hell never asked. I’d just like for you to get out of my way so I can do my job.”

Bartlett stalked toward the door. Then he turned back.

“You’d better think long and hard about what you’re getting into. You can ask some of the two-bit reporters I’ve dealt with in the past. They’re fucking roadkill.”

With that pronouncement, he slammed the door and was gone.

Stone stared after him, feeling his heart pump. It wasn’t the threat; it was the mixed emotions. For a moment, in spite of his better judgment, he’d felt like he had a father, but then Bartlett became the enemy again.

Then the door cracked open and Jane appeared, dismay in her eyes.

“What was that about?”

“What was what about?”

“I’ve gotta tell you, that man doesn’t know how to keep his voice down. What was that about helping your mother? Karen. You never talked about her much, but I sure don’t remember you ever saying anything about her and Winston Bartlett.”

“That’s because I