Envy(59)

Obviously frustrated, Bancroft ran a hand over his knobby head. “It also bothers me to release such an important document when it hasn’t been signed and witnessed in my presence.”

“I told Maris that I refuse to sign it until she has,” Noah said. “I was adamant about that. She’ll have her signature notarized in Georgia. When the document is returned, I’ll sign it. As soon as she gets back, we’ll meet with Daniel. Frankly, I think he’ll be relieved that it’s a fait accompli. No one likes to think of himself as vulnerable to incapacity or death. He’ll be glad that we relieved him of this responsibility.”

“I’ve never known Daniel Matherly to shrink from life’s realities no matter how grim,” Bancroft argued. “But, that aside, why not wait until Maris’s return and do it all at one time? Explain to me the urgency.”

Noah sighed as though getting a grip on his diminishing patience. “Her being away is one reason Maris wanted this done with dispatch. She’s working with a reclusive fledgling author. Until his manuscript is finished, she’ll be pulled away frequently, and she’ll be out of town for extended and unspecified periods of time. Shit happens, Howard. Plane crashes. Car accidents. Sudden illness. In a worst-case scenario, she wants Matherly Press protected.”

“Is that why the document becomes valid with your signature alone?”

Noah said tightly, “I told Maris, and I’m telling you, I will not sign it until her signature is in place.”

Bancroft exchanged a long stare with him, then shook his head. “I’m sorry, Noah. I need Maris’s verification that this is the document she wants, and even then I will advise her to rethink its provisos. They’re unorthodox and inconsistent with prudence. I’ve worked for the Matherlys for a long time. They rely on me always to act in their best interest. Therefore, I’m sure you understand my precaution.”

“Which is completely unnecessary, besides being a flagrant insult to me.”

“Even so.”

“All right. Call Maris.” He gestured toward the telephone. It was a bluff, but he was gambling that Bancroft wouldn’t call it. “Or better yet, Daniel’s at home today. Ask him to come in and review this.”

“I’d like to reacquaint myself with their original documents prior to a meeting with either of them. Until I’ve had an opportunity to do that, I don’t wish to waste their time.” Bancroft folded his hands on top of the document, a gesture that was a statement in itself. “Unless Daniel or Maris calls me and gives me authorization, I cannot release this document to you today.”

Noah leveled a hard look on him. Then he grinned. And grinned wider. He had actually hoped the meeting would result in a standoff between him and Bancroft. He had hoped that the dwarf wouldn’t capitulate too soon and spoil his fun. Everything till now had been a warm-up for this, the big finish. He was going to enjoy it to the fullest.

“Well, Howard,” he said with soft menace, “it seems as though you suspect me of corporate subterfuge.”

“I suspect you of no such thing,” the lawyer returned blandly.

“That’s good. I’m relieved to hear that. Because I would hate for you to suspect me of duplicity. I find that despicable, don’t you? Duplicity. Betrayal. Disloyalty to one’s family. One’s race.”

Noah held the lawyer’s gaze as he picked up the folder that he’d brought in with him. Gently he set it on the desk and slid it toward Bancroft, who stared at it with the misgivings of one who must remove the lid from a basket, knowing that a cobra was coiled inside. After a full minute of palpable silence and dread, the attorney opened the cover and began to scan the printed material inside.

“Who would have thought it, Howard?” Noah said. “Your mother f*cked Nazis.”

Bancroft’s narrow shoulders sagged forward.

“See, Howard, knowledge equates to power. I make it a point to learn all I can about the people around me, especially those who could be a hindrance. Investigating your background cost me a lot of money and took up valuable time, but I must say it yielded more than I bargained for.

“I paid your mother a visit in the nursing home where you had sequestered her. After a little arm-twisting, she confessed her shameful secret to me, and, for a nominal fee, an attendant wrote it all down word for word. Your mother signed it. Recognize her signature there on the last page? At that point she was so weak, she could barely hold the pen. Frankly, I wasn’t surprised that she died just a few days later.

“You know the story well, Howard, but I was fascinated. She was twenty-three when she was dragged from her home in Poland. The rest of her family, her brothers, sister, parents, were backed against a wall and shot. She was lucky enough to be transported to a concentration camp.

“At that time, in the Old World, twenty-three was borderline spinsterhood. Your mother had prevented her younger sister from marrying an ardent suitor because she hadn’t married first. Her inability to attract a man had created quite a rift in the family.

“But at the camp, she received a lot of attention from men. From the guards. See, Howard, your mother bartered her * for her life. Routinely. Over the next five years. She came to like the favors she was granted and flaunted them. She could have toiled alongside the other women prisoners, had her head shaved, subsisted on bread and water, lived in daily fear of her life. But no, she f*cked her way into comfortable quarters. Ate well. Drank wine. Made merry with Nazis. She was the camp whore. And for that, she was despised.