The Dragons of Ordinary Farm

Chapter 16

“I t isn’t like you to go into town, young fellow,” said Gideon. “Are you courting someone? The young woman at the Dairy Duchess stand, perhaps?”

Colin tried to smile at the old man’s heavy-handed humor. “No, sir, I just wanted to do some shopping. Look at some computer magazines.”

“Well, well, it’s a pleasure to have you, of course. I won’t be able to spend any time with you-I have a very important meeting-but you’ll find plenty to do, I’m sure, a young fellow like you.” He said it, as most old people did, as though Colin was somehow being unfair just by being young.

“I’ll find things to do, sir.”

“Yes, certainly. I see you’ve got your briefcase with you-very businesslike!” Gideon had brought along a case of his own-or, rather, a large box that Ragnar had stashed in the trunk while Colin watched from an upstairs window. Colin knew what was in the box, too. But he had not, of course, bothered to mention any of this.

“Where should we drop you off?” Ragnar asked. The big man wanted it clear that Colin was getting out first, so that he wouldn’t be seeing where Gideon was having his “important meeting.” They thought they were so crafty! Colin almost laughed. “Just at the store. Where should I meet you-and when?”

“I can’t imagine what I’m doing will take more than an hour,” said Gideon. “Why don’t you meet us at the cafe and we’ll have a sundae before we head back. Even your mother couldn’t disapprove of that, could she? It’s the day after the Fourth, after all-we deserve a little celebration!”

“Oh, yes, Gideon,” said Colin, carefully suppressing any trace of sarcasm in his voice, “that would be super.”

Colin knew exactly where Gideon was going because the antiques dealer, Jude Modesto, had taken the bait of Colin’s email and told him where they would be meeting-at Gideon’s “secret office.”

Gideon Goldring was not the kind of man to transact his business in front of every curious soul in Standard Valley, and there were obvious reasons he didn’t want to have Modesto (or anyone else) visit Ordinary Farm, so he had taken the precaution of leasing a tiny office in a small, half-built business park several blocks away from Standard Valley’s main street. Luckily for Colin it was still twenty minutes until Gideon’s meeting, so the old man and Ragnar were going to get a cup of coffee first. They invited Colin to join them at the cafe but he declined politely. When they headed toward Rosie’s, Colin walked into the general store, then straight through and out the back door. Once he was out of sight, he tucked his briefcase under his arm and began to sprint toward the business park.

The building was small, and except for a chiropractor’s office and a secondhand store that was apparently closed today there were no other businesses yet in place: Gideon’s office was on the second floor above one of several empty storefronts. Colin paused at the bottom of the stairs long enough to slow his breathing and wipe the sweat from his forehead, then walked up and pushed the door open.

As Colin had hoped, Jude Modesto had let himself into Gideon’s sparsely furnished office and was waiting. The antiques dealer was plump and pink, his bulk overflowing the inexpensive office chair, and he had a little tuft of a mustache, which did not make him look as young and fashionable as he probably thought it did. Modesto’s glasses slid halfway down his nose as he mopped sweat from his face with a handkerchief. “You kept me waiting long enough,” he said crossly, staring Colin up and down. “Look at you-you’re just a kid! What do you want from me?”

Colin was very conscious that Gideon Goldring would be coming through the door in less than a quarter of an hour, but he did his best not to look hurried. He settled into the big chair that he supposed must usually be Gideon’s, unlatched his briefcase, then paused and gave the antiques dealer his sternest look. “Just one question, Modesto. Are you rich enough?”

“What nonsense is this?” Modesto wiped his forehead furiously, as if to scrub away even the memory of being talked to that way by a mere boy. “I’m a very important man…”

“Yes, I’m sure you are, but we’re not talking about important, we’re talking about rich. I’m asking whether or not you would like to be really, really rich. Are you happy dealing in trinkets, Modesto? Setting things up for the people who have the real money? Or would you like to get in on a truly big score”-Colin hoped he wasn’t overdoing the tough-guy lingo: he’d written the whole speech out and memorized it the night before-“a score that will set you up for life?”

“Are you some kind of crazy person?” Modesto struggled to get up out of the low chair. He looked like Humpty Dumpty about to fall off the wall. “Look, kid, I got your email and I said I’d meet you. Fine. I’ve met you, and now you’d better get going. Just because you live in Tinker’s house doesn’t mean you have anything I’m going to-”

“I have everything,” Colin said harshly. Time was getting short now and he had to hurry. “You’ll never get into Ordinary Farm on your own-Gideon Goldring will never let you. But if you help me you’ll get access to things you’ve never even dreamed of, things that make those antiques you’ve been selling for him-those vases and obsidian knives-look like cheap souvenirs. You’ll be rich beyond your dreams. Are you really that sure you’re not interested?”

Jude Modesto stared at him. Humpty Dumpty’s handkerchief came out, went back and forth across the wide, pink face. The chin, with its little sandy beard, twitched. “What are you offering? To get me onto the property?”

“That’s not going to happen. Now, as for what I do have-do you want to find out? Yes or no?”

Modesto glowered. “You have five minutes, kid,” the fat man said at last. “Start talking.”

“I won’t need that much time,” Colin said. “Now listen. I’m going to give you something today and you’re going to take it with you and get it tested. When you do, you’re going to be desperate to talk to me-you’re going to want to come and camp out by the gates of the farm. But you’re not going to do that. Instead, you’re going to send me an email, and it’s going to say one word-‘Yes.’ And then I’ll let you know where we go from there. Got it?”

Jude Modesto was clearly wrestling with the stillstrong impulse to heave himself up out of the chair and storm out of the room, but he was also impressed by Colin’s certainty. “You know, you’re a very rude young man.”

“No, I just don’t like to waste time. Here.” Colin reached into his briefcase and pulled out a pill bottle. Inside the bottle a small, pale chip sat on a folded piece of dark cloth.

“That little white thing?” Modesto squinted as he took the bottle. “What is it?”

“That’s for you to find out. Remember, you’re not testing me-I’m testing you. I already know what it is. But I’d suggest you give it to someone discreet-someone you really trust. Because you’re not going to want this to be general knowledge.”

For the first time, Jude Modesto looked less than certain of himself, even a bit worried, as though Humpty Dumpty had just heard that all the king’s horses and men might not honor their putting-him-together contract after all. “Tested?”

“Yes. Oh, and I’d recommend you have it done by someone with training in biology.”

Modesto was about to ask another question when they were both distracted by noise outside the office: a car door slamming downstairs in the parking lot. If it was Gideon, he was ten minutes early! Colin felt like he was going to be sick.

“I have to hide,” he said, looking around in terror. Why couldn’t Gideon show up on time like he was supposed to? “Where can I hide?”

“Don’t look at me,” snapped Modesto, although he seemed nervous too. “I didn’t ask you to come.”

Colin wanted to hit the fat man. “But if he finds me here, that’s the end of a multimillion-dollar deal for you.”

Now they could clearly hear footsteps on the concrete steps outside. Colin was thinking of trying to force the window open, despite the air conditioner built into the frame, when Modesto pointed at a couple of fabric partitions with metal frames standing against the wall. “Hide behind those,” he suggested, wiping at his sweating face again. “But you better do it fast, kid.”

Colin set the two screens side by side, close to the wall, leaving room to hide behind them, but then realized that his feet would show at the bottom. He had just dragged a box behind one of the screens when the door of the office began to open. Colin jumped up on the box and held his breath.

“Modesto? Ah, I see you let yourself in.” It was Gideon’s voice, all right.

“Mr. Goldring. A pleasure to see you, sir.”

“Yes, I’m sure.” Gideon’s chair squeaked as he sat down. “You know Ragnar, I think.”

“Mr. Lodbrok, nice to see you again,” said Modesto.

Colin inched forward a little, doing his best not to bump the fabric, and put his eye to the crack between the two screens. If he hunched a little he could just make out the area around the desk. Gideon looked wilted by the heat, his rooster comb of white hair a bit bedraggled. His eyes, though, were still bright and fierce. “So, Modesto, I’m sure you’d like to know what we have in the box.”

“Of course,” the dealer said. “Always the highlight of my day-no, my entire month. What have you brought me this time?”

Gideon carefully lifted something out of the box. Colin couldn’t quite see it, but Jude Modesto obviously could. “Goodness!” he said. “I mean… goodness! Is that a red-figured amphora I see? Oh, my, that’s one of the most astonishing Greek vases I’ve ever seen-might even be the Berlin painter!”

“Might indeed,” said Gideon with a tone of deep satisfaction. “But I’ll leave that to the experts. I’ve a couple more pieces for you. Some Phoenician glass and a Mesoamerican obsidian knife. Should be worth a few dollars.” He chuckled.

“Oh, yes, they’re lovely, lovely. Oh, I’ll have no problems selling these, Mr. Goldring. What a treasure trove old Mr. Tinker must have left you! I would dearly love to have a look at it all someday-surely you should have the collection reappraised, just to make sure the insurance is adequate!”

“No, I’m afraid not, Mr. Modesto. I have my ways, as you know, and I don’t hold much with visitors.”

“But you wouldn’t even have to see me!”

“I said no. Now, what do you think these might be worth?”

How much things were worth was a subject that interested Colin very much, and he listened carefully as Jude Modesto made an estimate and wrote out a check as an advance.

It’s still small change compared to what we could get, Colin thought. You think too small, Gideon-too small!

“Thank you, sir,” said Gideon, tucking the check into his wallet. “A pleasure doing business with you. Let me know when you’ve finished the appraisals and are putting the items up for-”

“Gideon,” said Ragnar suddenly. “Someone is coming up the stairs!”

And now Colin could hear it too-the thumping of what sounded like several pairs of heavy feet.

“No one would be… ” Gideon began lightly, then suddenly his tone changed as the door opened. Colin couldn’t see it, but he could see the look on Gideon’s and Ragnar’s faces-like a wolf had suddenly strolled out of the dark and into the middle of camp.

“What the hell is going on?” Gideon demanded.

“S-sorry to catch you by surprise,” said Jude Modesto, suddenly so nervous he was stuttering a little, “but I’d like to introduce you to my best client, Edward Stillman.”

“Stillman!” Gideon said it like the world’s worst curse word. “What the hell are you doing here? Modesto, you traitor!”

Ragnar turned on the antiques dealer. “I should break your neck for this.”

Modesto squealed and tipped over his chair trying to get away. In the excitement Colin changed position so that he could get a better view. Three men stood in the doorway. Two of them were extremely tall, muscular, and bald, so that they looked like twins even though one was black and one white. It wasn’t hard to guess that they were bodyguards. Between them stood someone Colin had never seen before, a small, fit man with white hair-Edward Stillman, apparently.

Jude Modesto had taken refuge behind Stillman and his guards. Ragnar looked like he didn’t care how many men he’d have to wade through to get his hands on the fat little antiques dealer. One of the bodyguards reached menacingly into his coat, but Stillman raised a tanned, well-manicured hand. “Now, now, no violence, please. Let’s keep the guns holstered. Mr. Modesto didn’t sell you out, Gideon. I have been his main buyer for your collection for some time. I just insisted he let me meet with you in person. He didn’t know anything about our previous acquaintance.”

“Previous acquaintance? You call trying to steal my wife, my farm, and my life’s work a ‘previous acquaintance’? You really have a way with words, Stillman.” Gideon got up from his chair. “Come on, Ragnar.”

“Not so fast.” Stillman gestured and one of the burly men moved forward. He and Ragnar stood chin to chin, staring at each other. They were about the same size, but Stillman’s guard looked about thirty years younger. Colin pulled back. Some bodyguards, he thought, and felt a hysterical giggle rising inside him. I could be waiting back here to kill this Stillman guy and they didn’t even search the place.

Colin suddenly realized what was really at stake. These were bodyguards- armed bodyguards. If he made a suspicious noise they would probably shoot him first and ask questions later. The urge to giggle suddenly felt much more like an urge to throw up. Colin clenched his teeth together violently-he didn’t want to do either.

“Now, if everyone has finished demonstrating their toughness,” Stillman said, “perhaps we can talk business. Mr. Modesto, you are no longer needed-wait in my car, please. The driver is running the engine and the air-conditioning is on.”

“I won’t forget this!” Gideon shouted as Modesto scuttled out like a crab trying to get back to its tide pool.

Colin had another, even more disturbing thought. This guy Stillman is Modesto’s main buyer-he said so! He’s some kind of enemy of Gideon’s. And Modesto’s going to give the piece of eggshell to Stillman. His insides felt cold and heavy. What had he done? And more important, what would happen if Gideon found out? At the very least, Colin and his mother would be thrown off the farm forever. The only thing he really cared about would be taken away from him.

“You can’t keep me here, Stillman,” Gideon snarled. “You’re scum and I don’t have anything to say to you. We’re going to walk out now and your hired thugs can’t stop us.”

Stillman smiled and shook his head. “Please, Gideon. If you won’t talk to me, I can have police and FBI agents swarming all over your farm by nightfall. You really don’t want that to happen, do you?”

“Police? That’s nonsense!”

“Try me and find out.”

A hard silence filled the room. When Gideon finally spoke, he sounded like he had been punched in the stomach. “What… what are you talking about?”

“Oh, good, I have your attention,” Stillman said. “Sit down.” Gideon sat. Ragnar returned. “Gideon, my life has changed a great deal since I saw you last. I’m sure you’ve heard that my company, Mission Software, has now gone public?”

Gideon glared at him and did not answer.

“It made me a pretty penny. More than a few pretty pennies, in fact.”

Mission Software-Ed Stillman! Colin had heard of him-the man was a billionaire. But why on earth would someone like that know anything about their farm?

“If you just wanted to brag, Stillman,” said Gideon sourly, “you could have sent a press release instead of holding us at gunpoint.”

Edward Stillman laughed. “You’re just as charming as ever. I don’t see any guns out, do you? Now, listen carefully. You and I both know that by all rights the farm should belong to me. It belongs to my family, not yours. If Octavio had been in his right mind he would have made that clear before he died.”

Colin almost fell off his box again. This was crazy! Stillman and Gideon-related?

“You’re full of crap,” spat Gideon, his face an angry red.

“You aren’t even a Tinker,” said Stillman. “You just married one. Stole one, to be more accurate. Because Grace should have been mine.”

“Don’t you dare talk about her!” Gideon’s eyes were almost popping out of his head. Ragnar put a big hand on his shoulder, to calm him or perhaps to restrain him. “Don’t you dare say a word about my wife!”

Stillman shook his head. “I’d hoped you would be more reasonable than this. You won’t make a good impression in court, you know, with spit flying out of your mouth like that.” He sighed. “Well, it doesn’t matter. I have no urge to make friends with you, Goldring. I just wanted to tell you that I’m going to get that farm. I know there’s more going on there than simply Octavio’s collection of antiques. My uncle Octavio was a brilliant, brilliant man-the world underestimated him, but I haven’t. He would have wanted me to have that farm and have access to his research.”

Gideon thrashed beneath Ragnar’s restraining grip. “Liar! You already tried to steal it from me with your blasted lawyers- but you lost! The farm is mine! You’ll never get it!”

Stillman shook his head again, like a father watching a child throw a tantrum. “Gideon, Gideon, the only reason I’m warning you is that I would prefer to keep the police and FBI out of this. I don’t want the authorities running loose on that farm any more than you do. I don’t know what’s there, but I do know I’d rather not share it with the federal government. But if I can’t get the farm any other way, I’ll let them have it before I’ll let you have it, you little thief.” And now it was Stillman who was starting to turn red beneath his deep tan. “Do you understand me? One way or another, you’re as good as gone.”

“You can’t do anything,” Gideon said. “You already lost once.”

“Oh, but I can,” said Stillman. “Because I discovered a letter that we didn’t have the last time we went to trial-a letter from Grace.” He grinned. He didn’t look quite so much like a refined billionaire now. “That’s right. You only kept that farm because the law decided Grace disappeared after old Octavio died. But now I have a letter that makes it a lot clearer what really happened.”

Gideon suddenly looked very old. “What… what are you talking about? What letter?”

“Oh, I brought you a copy.” He gestured to one of the bodyguards, who produced a manila envelope and handed it to Gideon. “She wrote to my mother a few days before she so conveniently vanished. You can see what she says, can’t you? ‘Gideon is getting more angry and desperate all the time,’ I believe she says. Also, ‘I worry that there may be violence. It frightens me. Gideon frightens me.’ Dear me, that doesn’t sound good, does it?”

“She didn’t mean violent toward her,” said Gideon weakly. “She was worried that I might lose my temper with that old… with Octavio.”

“Yes, yes, you will explain it to a jury, I’m sure. And we will all be fascinated to hear again how my sweet little cousin Grace-beautiful, kind Grace-just happened to run away on the night her grandfather died, leaving you the sole master of Octavio Tinker’s property. How touching! How dramatic! How convenient!”

Gideon shoved the copy of the letter back into its envelope. “I’ll never give you a square inch of Ordinary Farm. Nothing-not even a spoonful of dirt!”

Stillman shrugged. “I’m bored with you now, Gideon. You’re just as petty as you ever were. Don’t you realize you can’t win?” He tipped his head toward his bodyguards. “Come on, gentlemen. We have work to do-lawsuits to file, murder investigations to reopen.”

“You’re bluffing,” Gideon said. “You want the farm too much yourself to risk getting the police involved again.”

“Yes, you tell yourself that.” Stillman stopped in the doorway. “Oh, and remember this-you’ve only been surviving so far because I’ve been buying your antiques. I know your finances better than you do, and so far it’s suited me to keep the farm in business. But if I decide not to buy any more of what is clearly my own family’s legacy, and I pass the word among my collector friends, for good measure, that I caught you selling fakes, where are you going to find the money to run that place, let alone hire enough lawyers to keep me from getting it?” He laughed and walked out.

“That scum.” Colin could see Gideon’s face through the crack. He looked as though he’d been beaten up. For a moment, despite years of dislike, Colin almost felt sorry for him.

“Is he really your wife’s clansman?” asked Ragnar. He didn’t seem very sympathetic to Gideon’s position, although Colin always had trouble reading the Norseman. “You did not tell me that.”

“Why should I? What difference does it make? He’s a liar. I had nothing to do with Grace disappearing.” He looked at Ragnar and his expression hardened. “You’re not questioning that, are you? You don’t think I’d murder my wife, do you?”

“I judge no man,” Ragnar said.

“Thanks for that vote of support,” Gideon said bitterly. “Come on. We have to pick up the boy and go home.”

“We promised him ice cream.”

“I don’t give a damn,” said Gideon.

Colin crouched silently until he heard them leaving, then went to the window and watched them get into the truck, Gideon moving like a very, very old man. It was only as he watched them drive away that he realized they would probably beat him back to the coffee shop, and that Gideon’s bad mood would get worse if they had to wait for him.

They did and it did. Colin didn’t get any ice cream. Gideon and Ragnar looked like they’d just come from a funeral. The drive home was a very quiet one.