Joseph Finder - Power Play

"I'm telling Mom."

He just snorted.

"I'll tell my guidance counselor what you did."

"You do that, and I'll tell the cops how you been stealing money from your parents, and you know what's gonna happen to you? They'll send you right to the boys' home. Reform school. That'll straighten you out."

"Then I'll just take one of your guns and steal the money."

"Hah. You gonna rob a bank, Jakey? Or the 7-Eleven?"

I sat there on the carpet, head spinning, as he went downstairs to the kitchen. Heard the refrigerator door open. The hiss of a pop-top: a can of Genny.

Mom was standing at the top of the stairs in her Food Fair smock, tears in her eyes. She'd seen the whole thing.

"Mom," I said.

She gave me a long, imploring look, and for a moment she looked like she was coming to give me a consoling hug.

Instead, she gave me another sad look and went down the hall to the master bedroom to change out of her work clothes.

I lay on my side as if asleep and drew my left knee up to bring my foot closer to my roped hands.

I'd lost a little feeling in my fingers, not because the ropes were too tight but because my palms had been clamped together in the same position for so long. They felt prickly and thick and useless.

But I was able to extend my hands and, despite the limited range of motion of my fingers, grasp the blade of the steak knife. And fumbling with my leaden fingertips, I got hold of the handle and pulled it slowly, carefully, from my shoe.

Meanwhile, Cheryl was talking to Ali in a low, soft murmur. "What just happened-it puts all these petty games into perspective, doesn't it? One minute I'm vowing I'm going to take this fight to the board of directors and outmaneuver Hank, and the next minute I'm wishing I could call my children and tell them I love them."

"How old are they?" Ali asked.

"Oh, Nicholas is a sophomore at Duke, and Maddy's living in the West Village. They're not children. They're grown. They're in the world. They don't need me. But…"

Now that the thing was out of my shoe, I realized how much low-level discomfort it had been causing me. I'd almost gotten used to it, as if a sharp stone were stuck in there. To get it out was a relief.

"I feel like we've just come out the other side," Cheryl said. "Got through the hard part. Both of them, we had such a difficult relationship for so long. Maddy dropped out of Hampshire and stopped speaking to me for, oh, it must have been three years or more. Nicholas still resents me for sending him away to prep school so young. He's convinced I wanted him out of the house so I could concentrate on my career."

Ali looked uncomfortable hearing her boss speak so openly. She studied the carpet. Then she said: "He's young. He'll come around."

I turned my head to make sure Buck couldn't see me. He seemed to be dozing.

Keeping my back to him-and to Cheryl and Ali as well-I positioned the knife blade up and began moving it back and forth against the rope.

The blade was razor-sharp, but it was the wrong tool. Great for cutting aged prime steak, maybe, but not so great with synthetic Kernmantle. This was a high-quality climbing rope woven from twisted strands of polyester around a nylon core. It was made for rappelling, so it had a high tensile strength. It was made to be abrasion-resistant. In other words, it wasn't supposed to cut easily. A coarser knife-edge would have had more bite. A serrated edge would have been best of all.

But what I had was a steak knife, and the wrong kind.

So I kept sawing away.

"No, he's right," Cheryl said. "I couldn't be mom and corporate executive at the same time, and I knew it."

"You needed a wife," Ali said.

"Or a stay-at-home dad. But they didn't even have a dad at all for most of their childhoods. After Bill ran off with some chippy." She sniffled. "So this is what I screwed up my kids for. So I could spend half my time trying to keep Hank Bodine from stabbing me in the back."

Once I'd pierced the outermost polyester sheath, the strands began to fray, then splay outward. The process started getting easier, until I'd got halfway through the first rope. They'd wound the rope around my wrists three times, but of course I'd only have to cut through in one place to get it off.

"I bet Hank's kids are screwed up even worse," Ali whispered. "Only he probably doesn't even care."

Upton Barlow noticed what I was doing, and he stared in astonishment. Then, to my surprise, he smiled and nodded.

"And then die in this godforsaken fishing lodge in the middle of…" Cheryl's voice got high and thin and constricted, then stopped.

I went back to sawing at the rope.

"Didn't think you'd ever see a CEO cry, right?" Cheryl said.

"Cheryl," Ali said gently.

"You know what they say-when a man's tough, he's decisive. When a woman's tough, she's a controlling bitch." She sniffed again. "That's okay. I knew that when I started. Back in the day. When all women in business were legally required to wear those stupid floppy bow ties with every blouse. At least it'll be easier for you. The clothes aren't as bad."

Finally, I was down to the last strand, and the blade broke through.

My hands were free.

But Barlow was looking at me with a different expression: alarm. His eyes darted up and to the side repeatedly, signaling something to me.

I heard the floorboards squeak.

Others were now looking around, seeing the same thing that Barlow was looking at.

I froze. It had to be Buck, and judging from the sound, he was standing just a few feet away.

Slowly, very slowly, I lowered my hands to my chest.

Tried to wind the rope back around my wrists, keeping my movements small, imperceptible from behind.

I sank to the floor, closed my eyes, feigning sleep. The carpet had that farmyard smell of wet wool.

I waited.

Buck cleared his throat. "You ladies keep it down," he said.

Then I heard his footsteps recede. I waited twenty seconds, then a minute, before opening my eyes.

Barlow nodded.

I sat up slowly. Ali, then Cheryl, saw, and their eyes widened.

"Oh, my God," Cheryl said.

I gave Ali a quick nod.

"Excuse me," she called out.

Buck looked around. I held my breath.

"Excuse me," she said again.

Buck came over, scowling. His jet-black hair looked stringy and unwashed.

"The hell do you want?"

"I need to use the bathroom."

"You can wait," he said, turning away.

"No, I can't," Ali said. "It's-look, it's a woman problem, okay? You want me to explain?"

Buck stared, shook his head slowly. He didn't want to hear details. Men never do.

"It's gonna have to be quick," he said at last.

She held up her hands, and he yanked her to her feet. "Move it," he said.

She walked, and he followed. Before they left the room, he slowly looked around. "Anyone moves an inch," he said, and he unholstered his gun. "You saw what happened."

I waited for a few seconds, then slipped my hands free of the rope and stood up.

Then I trod quickly along the carpet. Behind me, I could hear faint rustling, soft whispers. I turned around, held up a hand to silence them.

A low voice: "You're a goddamned idiot, Landry."

I didn't even have to look to know it was Bross.

"I hope they catch you."

"Kevin," said Bodine. "Not another word."

"Shut the hell up, Bross," Cheryl whispered.

"No way," Bross said, not even bothering to keep his voice down. "I'm not going to sit here and let this kid get us all killed."

I was just about out the door when I heard the squeak of floorboards.

"I thought I heard something," boomed a voice from the corridor.

Buck leveled his giant Ruger.44 at me. With his other hand he clutched Ali's neck.