Redemption - Leon Uris [149]
“Your side of the table is the one that needs the heirs, Caroline.”
“I’m sure you are aware that you have been cut back to the boundaries of the earldom. I love both my sons dearly. I would give what is left of my life to see Jeremy make amends for what he has done. Having said that, neither Chris nor Jeremy have any meaningful future in Weed Ship & Iron. They will inherit well, but they will never set foot in Belfast.”
“I don’t sail off into the sunset that easily, Caroline. No man, no matter how demented, gives his empire away to a daughter gone barren. Nor will you find that illegitimate child and bring him up as the Vatican’s gift to Ulster.”
“Good on you, Roger. You’re sounding like your old self again.”
“You and Freddie, no matter how powerful your seal, can’t break the human order of family. Family is older than the earldom, older than the Celts, older than the Normans, older than the Angles and the Saxons…older than mankind…a hand-me-down from the apes and before them, family was stands of trees and dinosaurs—ever see two colonies of lichen on a rock moving toward each other? They don’t join—strong family devours the weak one. Freddie and I are up to here in some rather interesting deals with each other. We are going to work out an accommodation.”
The moment had arrived. Yet Caroline saw no pleasure in it.
“Roger, kindly ask your monster if that was a blackmail threat.”
“Try me,” he hissed, coming to his feet.
“Sit down, Roger,” she commanded.
“Are you telling me to—”
“Sit down and listen very, very carefully. The accommodation you seek has already been worked out. You are to resign from the board of Weed Ship & Iron. Freddie and I will put to you the choice of buying or selling all joint ventures. You will have your earldom and your sons.”
“You are being ridiculous, Caroline. Try this and I’ll bring Weed Ship & Iron down.”
“You’re interrupting me, Roger.”
He blinked and narrowed his eyes…so calm she was, so even.
“Sir Frederick Weed has passed ownership and control of Weed Ship & Iron to his barren daughter, Caroline. My father has borne the pain of forcing our marriage for decades. He absolutely despises you, despite your little joint gunrunning escapades. After his stroke Freddie wrote a diary and he initialed each page and signed it and it was certified before ten members of the House of Lords who, fortunately for you, do not know the rest of the book’s content.”
“That’s blackmail! He can’t bring me down without bringing himself down.”
“Ah, you’ve never really known Freddie. He’s a two-fisted gambler, my daddy. Freddie has had numerous small strokes since his first one. He’s eighty-two years old now, and he and I decided jointly he goes out his way, at a big party. That is to say, Freddie doesn’t give a big rat’s ass if he is exposed or not.…However, Roger, that old monster in you has to be telling you to tread carefully, what?”
“You are a devil,” he rasped.
“Father’s diary has a companion volume detailing your dealings with Maxwell Swan—”
“Shit!”
“Uncle Max, just before he died toasting the king with a strychnine grin on his face, covered the volume in orange and presented it to me in exchange for his living out his life in piety and luxury in Jamaica.”
Caroline broke, voice quivering, “It’s all here, the murder of Kevin O’Garvey, the cover-up of the factory fire, and a few other murders and bribes and broken legs and riots.”
“All right…all right, let’s get ourselves together. The truth of the matter is, Caroline, that when Freddie goes, you can’t continue Weed Ship & Iron beyond your own lifetime.”
“That’s being taken care of, Roger. We’re going public on the London Stock Exchange.”
“You’re mad! Freddie is mad!”
“Please Roger, the guests are napping.”
“My God! Public ownership! Tax collectors crawling over