David Lindsey - The Rules of Silence

His eyes picked up the movement of an oak leaf that had fallen into the water. It was floating about crazily, the variable breezes slinging it this way and that, first in manic pursuit, then in unstrung flight across the aqua sea.

That's the way he wanted Titus Cain, he thought, just on the edge of hysteria, his heart racing, his mind not quite able to stop long enough to gain the traction of reason, but having enough control of his faculties to know that the faster he unloaded the money, the sooner the deaths would stop. That was the kind of pressure that Luquin had to reestablish in his meeting with Cain. Cain had to be buffeted constantly, given no time to drift. He had to be driven.

On the way back from the orchard, Titus stopped off at the guest cottage while Rita continued on to the house. The living room of the cottage was now crammed with computers and a variety of electronic equipment that he hadn't even bothered to try to understand.

Herrin gave Titus a quick overview of how it would all work and was bringing him up-to-date on the results from the Beechcraft when Titus's cell phone rang. It was Burden. “Have you seen Luquin's response?” “No.”

“He's going to do it. He's going to meet with you.” Titus was stunned. He didn't know what he'd expected, but he was definitely taken aback at the prospect of meeting face-to-face with Luquin again. “What'd he say?”

“He'll send you his instructions, so stay close.” “Did he say why he was agreeing to meet with me?”

“No, but he's not as sure of himself as he wants you to believe. I think he wants to look at you, reassure himself. This is good. We'll see his instructions, so just do what he says. We'll take care of our end of it.”

“Which is?”

“I want to go over that with you in detail, ”Burden said. “I'm going to get to your place early tonight, and I'll put it all together for you, tell you where we stand. What do you have to do to make the first payment go through?”

“A phone call.”

“Good. I want you to do that right there in front of him. And what about the next payment?”

“I'm working on it.”

Burden paused, and Titus heard something in the background, people talking, radio transmissions.

“Look, ”Burden said, “I want you to be prepared… Thrush isn't going to be the only one. I just don't want you to start thinking… that anything's magically changed here.”

Titus was aware of the acrid odor of electronics, of warm plastics and rubber-coated wiring. Familiar smells. But what he was feeling at the back of his brain, the hum that oscillated deep behind his chest muscles as if his heart were about to fibrillate, was not only unfamiliar, but also frightening. Waiting for another death was harrowing. He wondered if this was what a man felt when he lost control of his reason, if these sensations were the beginnings of what would later be called blind rage.

“No, ”Titus said, “I understand that hasn't changed.”

After ending the call, Titus stepped outside and stood in the shade at the front of the guest cottage. The shadow would grow as the sun fell farther behind the orchard, heading toward the hillside where the men had been working on the reservoir. He looked down through the splintered light of the allee of laurels and slipped into one of those moments when all that was familiar and commonplace swiftly bled away from his awareness, until he found himself estranged from his own experience, caught in a queer and alien moment.

Then, just as quickly, he snapped out of it and took the cell phone out of his pocket and called Carla at the office. He asked her if she could bring her laptop and come to the house for a few hours’work. It wasn't an uncommon request. Titus liked working from the house whenever he could, even in the early years.

He walked across the courtyard, past the fountain, and into the broad atrium hallway. He found Rita in their bedroom, unpacking. She heard him, but she didn't turn around from the bed where she had opened her suitcases. She was snatching things out of the bags, still agitated.

“Listen, ”he said, “let's don't leave it like this.”

When she spun around to say something that he knew had been building up inside her, he gestured with a vertical forefinger and then pointed to his ear, reminding her of the bug.

Caught off guard, she just stared at him, holding her breath. Then she snapped, “Not now, Titus, for God's sake.” And she turned around again and went on with her unpacking.

“Carla's coming over, ”he said to her back. “I've got to get some things done.”

“Then do it, ”she said without stopping, covering the bed with slips and skirts and underwear and shoes.

Titus turned and walked out of the room.

When Carla stepped into his office nearly an hour later, he was at the long worktable reading Luquin's message on his laptop screen for the tenth time. When he looked up and saw her face, he knew that she knew that something was going on. She put her laptop on the table across from him and flipped it on before she'd even slipped off her shoulder bag.

“I just saw Rita in the kitchen, ”she said, giving him a significant look as she shrugged off the bag. “What happened to the trip? She was upset.”

“Sit down, ”Titus said, and as she did he started telling her about Charlie Thrush's accident. Astounded, she asked questions-she always asked questions-and then commiserated. It didn't take her long to realize, either, that this terrible news was falling on top of the stress Titus was already under from the huge financial loss he'd told her about yesterday.

They talked a little while about notifying certain people at CaiText, and Carla made a list of those whom Titus thought should be told immediately. They, in turn, could tell others.

“God, this is just one thing on top of another, ”she said. She hesitated and then went right into it. “What about… the financial thing you mentioned? Is that what you want to deal with now?”

“Mostly.”

“And does Rita…?”

“She knows everything.”

“How's she…?”

“We're working on it.”

Carla nodded. After an awkward silence Titus said, “I'm going to have to sell off a piece of the company, a small piece, about eight percent.”

Carla's mouth dropped open.

Titus instantly flushed. This was humiliating.

“I've got Lack Paley working on it, and it ought to be done in a couple of days.”

“A couple of days?! ”She was floored.

Angry and embarrassed, Titus swallowed, and then he knew she had seen it. He'd never felt exactly like this in his life. All the good common sense, the sound judgment, the caution and steady stewardship he'd used to build CaiText, and which was a trademark of the way he conducted business, were being destroyed by the actions Luquin was forcing him to make. It would have been bad enough if this disparagement had been justified, but to have to deliberately bring such wrong assumptions upon himself was nearly more than he could stand.

“You needed to know this, ”he went on, his face burning, “in case something about it leaked out and you started to get inquiries.”

If he felt this way telling Carla, who knew him so well, with whom he had shared so much of his life, and who knew more about him than anybody besides Rita, how was he going to feel when this perceived irresponsibility became public? What would people think when the business press seized on this? What would happen to his reputation when his colleagues and managers and employees believed he had behaved so recklessly? How was he going to deal with that?

“If… if I do get questions, what… what do you want me to say? ”she asked.

“Just tell them you don't know anything about it. Tell them it's legal stuff. It's out of your bailiwick.”