The Third Twin - Ken Follett [167]
Harvey was probably at Berrington’s house right now.
55
PRESTON BARCK AND JIM PROUST ARRIVED AT BERRINGTON’S house around midday and sat in the den drinking beer. None of them had slept much, and they looked and felt wasted. Marianne, the housekeeper, was preparing Sunday lunch, and the fragrant smell of her cooking wafted in from the kitchen, but nothing could raise the spirits of the three partners.
“Jeannie has talked to Hank King, and to Per Ericson’s mother,” Berrington said despondently. “I wasn’t able to check any others, but she’ll track them all down before long.”
Jim said: “Let’s be realistic: exactly what can she do by this time tomorrow?”
Preston Barck was suicidal. “I’ll tell you what I’d do in her place,” he said. “I’d want to make a highly public demonstration of what I’d found, so if I could get hold of two or three of the boys I’d take them to New York and go on Good Morning America. Television loves twins.”
“God forbid,” Berrington said.
A car drew up outside. Jim looked out of the window and said: “Rusty old Datsun.”
Preston said: “I’m beginning to like Jim’s original idea. Make them all vanish.”
“I won’t have any killing!” Berrington shouted.
“Don’t yell, Berry,” Jim said with surprising mildness. ‘To tell you the truth, I guess I was bragging a bit when I talked about making people vanish. Maybe there was a time when I had the power to order people killed, but I really don’t anymore. I’ve asked some favors of old friends in the last few days; and although they’ve come through, I’ve realized there are limits.”
Berrington thought, Thank God for that.
“But I have another idea,” Jim said.
The other two stared at him.
“We approach each of the eight families discreetly. We confess that mistakes were made at the clinic in its early days. We say that no harm was done but we want to avoid sensational publicity. We offer them a million dollars each in compensation. We make it payable over ten years, and tell them the payments stop if they talk—to anyone: the press, Jeannie Ferrami, scientists, anyone.”
Berrington nodded slowly. “My God, it might just work. Who’s going to say no to a million dollars?”
Preston said: “Lorraine Logan. She wants to prove her son’s innocence.”
“That’s right. She wouldn’t do it for ten million.”
“Everyone has their price,” Jim said, regaining some of his characteristic bluster. “Anyway, there isn’t much she can do without the cooperation of one or two of the others.”
Preston was nodding. Berrington, too, found he had new hope. There might be a way to shut the Logans up. But there was a more serious snag. “What if Jeannie goes public in the next twenty-four hours?” he said. “Landsmann would probably postpone the takeover while they investigate the allegations. And then we won’t have any millions of dollars to throw around.”
Jim said: “We have to know what her intentions are: how much she’s discovered already and what she plans to do about it.”
“I don’t see any way to do that,” Berrington said.
“I do,” said Jim. “We know one person who could easily win her confidence and find out exactly what’s on her mind.”
Berrington felt anger rise inside him. “I know what you’re thinking—”
“Here he comes now,” Jim said.
There was a footstep in the hall, and Berrington’s son came in.
“Hi, Dad!” he said. “Hey, Uncle Jim, Uncle Preston, how are you?”
Berrington looked at him with a mixture of pride and sorrow. The boy looked adorable in navy blue corduroy pants and a sky blue cotton sweater. He picked up my dress sense, anyway, Berrington thought. He said: “We have to talk, Harvey.”
Jim stood up. “Want a beer, kid?”
“Sure,” Harvey said.
Jim had an annoying tendency to encourage Harvey in bad habits. “Forget the beer,” Berrington snapped. “Jim, why don’t you and Preston go into the drawing room and let us two talk.” The drawing room was a stiffly formal space that Berrington never