The Law of Nines

48

AS ALEX STEPPED INTO THE ROOM behind Jax, all eyes were on them. The two-room suite was larger than the typical motel room. The two beige couches forming an L at the corner of the front showed discoloration from heavy use. A round table with half a dozen chairs sat at the back.

None of the furniture was especially elegant, but it was comfortable-looking. There was a wet bar beside a TV in a tall cabinet opposite the couches. Through double louvered doors that stood open to the right he could see the edge of a bed in the other room.

The nine people standing in a cluster in the center of the room were all grins. They looked like devout worshippers about to meet the Pope.

“I’m Mike Fenton,” a rather thin man said as he stepped forward, thrusting out his hand.

He was shorter than Jax, balding, and wearing jeans that still had the fold marks in them from coming right off the rack. His gray-and-blue-striped, long-sleeved shirt likewise looked to have been freshly unwrapped. He was grinning from ear to ear.

Alex shook the man’s hand. “Alex. It’s nice to meet you face-to-face, at last.”

Still gripping Alex’s hand, Mike swept his free arm around, indicating the rest of the people in the room. “We’re all so relieved that you arrived safely. And you would have to be Jax.”

“I am,” she said as she shook his hand. He held her hand respectfully, gazing into her eyes as if welcoming an alien from another planet to his world. Alex supposed that he was.

Alex was so focused on evaluating everyone as Mike introduced them that he knew he wouldn’t remember all their names. None of them looked like a pirate. They were all wearing new clothes that to a greater or lesser extent still bore new-clothes folds. They had apparently followed Alex’s instructions and had not gone to their homes or any place familiar.

Mike gestured to the table in the back, where papers were neatly laid out. “How about if we get business out of the way first? Get the title to the land taken care of so that everything is finalized and legal?”

“I’d like that,” Alex said.

“Do you have the fee?”

Alex pulled an envelope from an inside pocket of his jacket. He handed it to Mike.

“There’s ten thousand even.”

“It came to ninety-six hundred and seventy-five dollars.”

The man opened the envelope and counted back three one-hundred-dollar bills. He then fished around in his pocket and came up with a twenty and a five. He handed them over as well.

“There. Paid in full.”

Alex folded the money and slipped it into a pocket. “If you don’t mind my asking, what’s going on with this money issue?”

Everyone chuckled self-consciously.

“Well, it’s rather hard to explain, and there are much more important things to deal with, but briefly it has to do with traditions involving this land and the way it has been deeded. The simplest way to explain it is ‘value for value.’ Stipulations having to do with the title require conventions that can seem a little odd at a time like this, but they have a serious purpose and must be followed to the letter. Payment for services is one of those stipulations.”

Alex was in a way only too happy to use the money that Sedrick Vendis had paid to buy his paintings just so that he could deface them. It seemed like ironic justice to use that money to pay for the legal fees to get the land that Vendis and Cain so badly wanted.

“But now that the fee is out of the way,” Mike said, “we can get on with it.”

At the man’s urging, Alex sat before a stack of papers and folders. Jax stood behind him, her back to the wall. Mike sat beside Alex as all the others gathered round to watch. It had the feeling of a grand ceremony.

The lawyer opened the top folder. “All of these need to be signed where I’ve indicated with little red stickers.”

Alex eyed the inch-thick stack. “Shouldn’t I read all of these?”

“You’re welcome to do so, and as a lawyer I must advise that you do, although I can assure you that I’ve been over everything, personally, and it’s all in order. I’d be happy to explain any of it you find difficult to understand.”

Alex picked up the pen. He scanned the first and second pages that were stapled together. They had to do entirely with identifying the parties involved in the rest of the paperwork. It took two pages to say that he was Alex Rahl and that the Daggett Trust was the Daggett Trust.

Alex started signing his name.

Mike Fenton lifted away each page after Alex had signed it. He scanned the next page, really only looking for anything that stood out as odd. Everything looked like what he imagined normal deed transfers would look like. With people wanting to run guns through a gateway to another world, the legal technicalities of the land where the gateway sat didn’t seem overwhelmingly important, but Alex scanned them anyway just in case.

But then he started coming to pages having to do with the Daggett Trust. Those pages had nine signatures on them — the nine trustees. Each page awaited Alex’s signature.

“What’s this?” Alex said, frowning at the trustee agreements.

“In essence, it puts you in charge of the Daggett Trust, making you the lead trustee to the land involved in the Daggett Trust — all of it.”

Alex looked up. “What do you mean, all of it?”

“Well,” Mike said, “the part you inherit, and all the rest of the land associated with it — all the land controlled by the Daggett Trust. It all belongs together. This puts you in charge of all of the land as a single entity.”

Alex stared at him. “All of it.”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“And how much land is that?”

“Altogether? Nearly sixty-five thousand acres.”

Alex was still staring at the man. “And what do you mean that it puts me in charge of the land?”

Mike Fenton folded his fingers together on the table. “Well, for all practical purposes, it all becomes yours once you take title to the key piece. You become the lead trustee. For all practical purposes, this makes you the Daggett Trust. You have to uphold all of the deed stipulations, of course, but it’s all yours.”

“Deed stipulations. You mean like how I can’t build on the land?”

“Well, actually, as lead trustee you can build a place for yourself on the land, seeing as how the property is your responsibility and you will be overseeing it all.”

“And I can’t sell my portion except to the trust.”

“Right.”

“But you said that this, in essence, makes me the trust.”

“That’s right.”

“So, if I wanted to sell — but believe me, I don’t — where would the money come from?”

“Well, let me show you. .” Mike said as he started shuffling through the file folders.

One of the women, the older, boxy-shaped one, leaned in to help. When Alex looked up at her she smiled.

“I’m Mildred — the accountant for the Daggett Trust. I’m the one who takes care of this aspect of the trust. I’ll be at your disposal, of course, to help with everything.”

“You will find Mildred indispensable,” Mike said.

Alex didn’t want to have to find an accountant indispensable. He simply wanted to keep Radell Cain from using the gateway to take technology to Jax’s world.

Mildred quickly found the file and pulled it out, opening it before Alex.

“Here it is,” he said. “This is the financial area of the trust. Over the entire time that the trust has existed, its funds have been invested in only the most stable, safe areas. None of the trustees throughout the history of the Daggett Trust has ever taken any risks with it, so it’s grown quite slowly, but steadily.”

“So how much is in there?”

She pointed to one of the lines of figures. “A little over sixty-three million dollars.”

Alex blinked. “Sixty-three million?”

Mike nodded. “Yes, that sounds about right — not including the accrued-five-year-interest account. Most of it is in numbered overseas accounts. You aren’t allowed to touch the principal, of course. That’s one of the stipulations. But as the lead trustee you are entitled to use any and all the interest it earns. After expenses, of course.”

Mike scratched his nose as he flipped through the papers. “Let’s see. . last year, for example, after trust expenses, that was about nine hundred thousand dollars — but interest rates last year were at a record low. It’s usually higher. You are also entitled to any unused interest from the last five years — that’s the accrued-interest account I mentioned — so altogether you actually could draw just a little over five million, if you wanted to.”

Alex was still staring at the man. “You mean to say that I could take all that interest, nine hundred thousand dollars — and all the rest of five million if I wanted — and spend it all on lobster dinners?”

Everyone chuckled.

“Yes, if you want,” Mike said. “Any money you don’t take out simply stays in the accrued-interest account. Any you don’t draw down from that portion within the five-year limit is rolled back into the trust account as it reaches that five-year maturity. It then becomes part of the principal. Once it flows back into the main trust account after five years, you then aren’t allowed to touch it for personal use. Of course, it will earn additional interest, along with all the rest, which you can draw out.”

“If there is all this money for trust expenses, then why on earth would you be so concerned with me paying the legal fees?”

“It’s more than simply a part of the bylaws of the trust. It’s part of the stipulations of the inheritance. It’s all part of making sure that the person the lands goes to is the right kind of person, that they are responsible and take obligations seriously.

“You were not yet the owner of the land or the lead trustee. You had no legal right to the trust’s money. You had to pay for the services I provided having to do with the inheritance without resentment of the debt and without trying to dodge the obligation. It’s just one little way that the trust verifies integrity. Now that you’ve paid the fee, though, you not only own the land but you become lead trustee and have complete access to the interest from the trust accounts, so I’m sure you can see why it’s vital to the safety of the trust that it have someone responsible at the helm. Mildred can help you keep track of it all.”

“What expenses? What expenses does the trust have?”

Mike gestured around. “Well, besides our fees for the work we do on behalf of the trust, the largest expense is security.”

One of the men stepped forward, extending his big, weathered hand. “Hal Halverson, Mr. Rahl. I’m head of security for the property.”

While he wasn’t especially big, he was the kind of man Alex would not want to have to wrestle. Hal Halverson was perhaps in his late forties, but looked like he only became stronger and tougher with every year he gained.

“How many security people are there?”

“We have twenty in all. Me, seventeen men, and two women officers. Because of the way the land was set up as a special conservation area, we have legal status as game wardens and full law-enforcement powers. By law, we’re employed and paid by the trust alone. Our land is technically situated within parts of several counties, but the trust is an entity unto itself. The state and counties don’t have jurisdiction over us, so they can’t do things like reassign us to other law-enforcement duties. As head of security I alone recruit and hire our security force.”

With a thumb, he lifted out the lapel of his brown sport jacket. “I usually wear a uniform. The uniforms help to make people take us seriously so that we can keep everyone off the land. We generally don’t wear our uniforms off the trust property, and, well, your orders meant that I had to pick up this to wear. And if I may say so, I was especially pleased by your grasp of the importance of security.”

“So you can carry weapons?”

The man lifted out his jacket to reveal a large-frame Glock. “Like I said, we have legal law-enforcement status. Only we in the trust can recruit our officers, but they still have to pass state law enforcement tests and extensive background checks.”

“Which reminds me,” Mike said as he opened another folder. “Here is your identification in the name of Hank and Jenna Croft, should you need it. Sign it here, if you would, please. Jax, you too.”

She leaned in beside Alex and signed her full name on the incomplete driver’s license. One of the other men had her stand against a wall so he could take her picture. He snapped Alex’s photo as well and then took the licenses to the bar sink, where he began working with some small equipment. Alex assumed he was placing the photos onto the licenses.

“Here is a State of Maine permit to carry concealed firearms,” Mike said, sliding it across to Alex. He looked up. “This one is in your real name. We assumed that you would be armed and need a CCW for Maine. Just in case, we have one for Jax as well. We’ll put the photo on them, too, after you both sign.”

“You people are pretty thorough,” Alex said as he and Jax signed the licenses. When he was finished, Mike handed them to the man working at the bar sink with the photos.

“We’re very careful in how we look out for the trust,” one of the others said.

Alex wondered why and where they had developed such care. At Mike Fenton’s direction, Alex went back to signing papers. At a few places the man stopped and explained details of the trust.

It seemed to Alex that he was taking on a huge responsibility he didn’t really want. Originally, he had just wanted to take title to the land in order to have a place to paint in peace.

Now, though, he needed to secure the gateway and prevent Radell Cain’s people from using it. He supposed that this was all necessary in order to do that. And, should he need them, it did give him a lot more authority and resources to help him accomplish that task.

When he finished looking over and signing the stack of papers, Alex leaned back in his chair and let out a sigh.

“It’s done,” Mike said. “At long last. We can’t tell you what a relief this is.”

“All right, as lead trustee, I’d like to know what this is all about. What’s going on? What’s really behind the Daggett Trust and the land? What’s the connection?”