Shadow of the Son, page 3
“Possibly, but I’m concerned.”
“I know you are. You think that you’ll fall short. You always do. But really, Percy, you can’t lead by seeing catastrophes at every turn … not if you ever hope to win. You will make mistakes. It’s normal. You’re now the custodian of Rhinebeck. Right or wrong, leaving for California to pack up your stuff and move here was essential for you to assume that role. Correct?”
“Yes, but I didn’t turn back when perhaps I should have. Now I’m worried that I may have doomed this endeavor from the start.”
“Listen to yourself! Really, Percy, the future isn’t written in stone. At least it wasn’t last I checked. You need to settle yourself. I’ve seen you in such moods before. Why don’t you take a nap while I look over some papers? I doubt you’ve been getting much sleep, and catching up on it can only help. Have you mentioned any of this to Bruni?”
“No, I haven’t. I barely knew how to express it until now.”
“Fair enough. It will keep. Get some sleep, and when you’re rested, we’ll talk some more.”
“I’ll try. And thanks for listening.”
“Of course.”
As I settled into the car’s soft leather, I thought to myself that sleeping was a good idea. I might need all I could get, judging from my previous visit.
5
I slept until Johnny woke me. I felt better and said so.
“See?” he said. “You needed the rest, and by the way, you sleep with your mouth open.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Yes, you do.”
“Maybe.”
“It’s a fact, but I’m glad to see you looking better. We’ll be turning into the driveway in a minute or two. Any last words?”
“None. I don’t know what to expect, but that’s typical, I suppose.”
“It is. All will be well, you’ll see.”
I wasn’t going to argue the point. My worrying had only succeeded in wearing me out. I sat up and looked ahead as the car turned onto the private road. The early afternoon was breezy with high clouds. Sunlight played through the moving canopy of leaves and dappled the asphalt in dancing patterns that the car rolled over and left cavorting in its wake.
We turned down the gentle slope to the front of the house. The door opened, and out stepped Stanley in his customary morning suit. I let out a sigh of relief. The car crunched to a halt, and the chauffeur opened the door for me as Stanley came down the steps.
He gave me a flicker of a smile and said, “Welcome back. A little earlier than expected, I see.”
“Yes, I can’t seem to stay away. It’s good to see you, Stanley.”
“And I you. Some refreshments will be available shortly in the drawing room.”
“Wonderful. After that, I need to ask your advice.”
“I’m at your service.”
Stanley welcomed Johnny and led the way through the front door into the calm that lay beyond it. We passed the ticking grandfather clock by the entrance to our left with its five ships of the line on its face that tilted back and forth counting out the seconds and, to the right, the long table with a vase filled with fresh gladioli sitting by the bust of Alexander. Stanley opened the door to the drawing room and said, “I’ll be but a moment.”
As he left, dust motes danced in the bright sunlight that streamed through the French doors across the room and made elongated golden rectangles on the carpet. It was cheerier than I remembered. Johnny followed close behind.
“See?” he said. “Everything’s still here. Nothing to worry about.” He wandered about the room. I simply stood in the center and breathed.
Stanley slipped in with two flutes of Cristal on a silver tray.
“Some refreshment,” he said as he served us. He turned to me. “I’ll be available in my office for consultation once you’ve settled. Dagmar would like to say hello, but first things first. Unwind from your journey. Whatever is on your mind will keep. You’re home, where you belong.”
After he had retired through the dining room doors, I stood in front of the Constable and admired the gray, clouded sky and pastoral countryside in the painting. It was mine, now. I never would have imagined it. I turned to Johnny as he came up beside me. “Cheers,” I said and clinked his glass.
“Cheers,” Johnny responded.
“It’s been an eventful couple of weeks. I was so overjoyed to see the house still here with Stanley waiting to greet me that I almost gave him a hug.”
“Yes, I noticed that, but luckily you didn’t. I can’t imagine how he would have taken it.”
“I can’t either. One day I will, to see what he’ll do.” I looked around again. “I’m so happy to be back.”
“I am, too. Excellent champagne, by the way.”
“Yes,” I said. I wondered whether drinking Cristal exclusively was financially prudent.
“The Cristal decision was one of your better ideas,” commented Johnny, reading my mind. “But I note the clouds of fiscal responsibility beginning to form. I suppose that’s the difference between a guest and a host. Change it if you must, but let’s drink up and enjoy ourselves for now. We’re partners again. It’s a good day. To our new partnership,” said Johnny as he raised his glass.
“To our new partnership,” I said, raising mine. “Who would have thought?”
“Who would have thought, indeed,” said Johnny. “On top of that, you’re engaged. Could you ever have imagined?”
“Not at all. The world has turned upside down, yet here we are. Life is strange but utterly marvelous. Thank you for all your support, by the way, in case I failed to mention it.”
“That may have been the case, but you’re very welcome. On top of that, there’s more to come.”
“I think you’re right. We should talk to Stanley and Dagmar sooner rather than later, and before your parents show up.”
“Father said they’d arrive late in the afternoon. We have some hours yet, but by all means. Waste not a minute.”
We placed our empty flutes by the bar and headed for the kitchen. Dagmar was there, bustling about. I went up to her and gave her a hug. I didn’t care about the propriety of it. She cooed, placed me at arm’s length, and looked me in the eye for a long second.
“I see we have some things to discuss, but I must make additional preparations for dinner tonight, now that there’ll be four. Run along. We’ll talk later. Stan’s in his office.”
I could have been ten years old the way she spoke to me, but I didn’t mind. She was a source of affection and attention that grounded me even now. We left Dagmar to her kitchen and went down the hall to Stanley’s office. He was at his desk, leaning back in his chair.
“So much for relaxation,” he said. “That took all of fifteen minutes. Although it is still early in the day, I think a glass of my private reserve will settle things down quite admirably.” He swiveled about and prepared three glasses of amber liquid in cut crystal glasses. He handed two to Johnny and me and raised his. “Let us savor this rare brew and each other’s company. Good health.”
The smoky taste was better than I remembered. After a suitable time to reflect on the quality of the drink, Stanley looked up in my direction. “You wish to consult me. I assume Johnny is privy to your thoughts, since he is here beside you. Where would you like to begin?”
I thought about what to say for a second and started in. “First, my thanks for taking the time. I have two issues.…”
I outlined the phone call with Bernard and Johnny’s thoughts on the matter as well as my own.
Stanley nodded. “You wish to know if there is something to his warning. And the second issue?”
I told him what happened when I left Rhinebeck and my anxieties since then.
When I had finished, Stanley reflected for a moment. “I think it best if we start with the voice you heard driving away before taking up the other matter. Her ladyship had an experience that might be of interest. It won’t answer entirely, but I can tell you what I can.”
Johnny sat forward at this. Any information about Alice was always welcome.
“By all means,” I said.
“It was not long after her marriage to Arthur Blaine had disintegrated in the jungles of Ecuador. As I mentioned, her return without him was marked by periods of elation followed by depression and rage. It was a difficult time for both of us. She found a means of alleviating her suffering in substances that affected the mind. For myself, I had to struggle not to interfere. Although I suspected that she longed for relief, I was mistaken. She rarely did anything without a greater purpose in mind.
“One day she asked me, out of the blue, as we were discussing various household expenses, whether I believed in other dimensions.
“The question was both interesting and troubling. There were stories I had heard in Scotland when I was very young that seemed to indicate that time is not the same for everyone. There are legends of castles, villages, and individuals disappearing altogether, never to be seen again, while others disappear only to come back into existence from somewhere else.
“I told her I knew that Rip Van Winkle was one such local legend, and that I had heard stories of these things, but I had never experienced the phenomenon myself.
“I remember her sitting behind the desk in her study when she leaned back and asked me, point blank, ‘Stanley, have you ever heard voices in this house?’
“We had finished looking over the accounts, and as I looked up to answer her question, I realized that the accounting had been an excuse to ask me this question in particular. I don’t know how I knew that, but I did. I asked her to explain. She looked away and then back again. ‘I have started hearing murmurs and occasionally distinct voices.’
“ ‘Recently?’
“ ‘Yes.’
“ ‘I haven’t noticed any voices per se. That isn’t to say that there haven’t been occurrences. Occasionally, I have sensed that I’m being observed, but when I turn to see who is there, I see no one.’
“ ‘Ah’ was all she said. I had no reservations about talking to her of such things. Our discussions had been many, and she knew a great deal. In addition, our talks gave me insights into how she was getting on. I believe she knew this and encouraged them. I asked, ‘Do they frighten you?’
“ ‘The voices? No, not really. It is not what they say, or even the fact that I hear them, but rather my incessant questioning of my own sanity because I do.’
“ ‘What has occurred?’ I asked. and she told me that she had recently experimented with a substance called N-dimethyltryptamine. It had extraordinary hallucinogenic properties, although remarkably brief. She said that the drug was not a drug per se but a naturally occurring molecule found in the human pineal gland. The sensations generated were intense but strange. She felt compressed at first, like she was enclosed in a tight skin. The constricting sensation intensified to an extraordinary climax, at which point she burst from the membrane that held her and found herself somewhere else, in a world of a different color, orange predominately. There she found people who seemed as real as you and me. They were eager to talk and enthusiastic upon meeting her, but she quickly discovered they were not the ones she needed to speak to. All they seemed to want was the connection. They knew nothing of her plight. Although she relished the experience, she ceased her experiments with it. She started hearing the voices shortly after.
“I asked her if there was a connection, and she replied that she sometimes wondered if there might be another world placed next to ours, separated from us by walls within our minds. Occasionally, she thought they weakened, and that we could hear others making their own ways, oblivious to us on this side. She posited that each side processes living in different fashions.
“ ‘Like another dimension.’ I commented.
“ ‘Exactly,’ she answered.
“Our discussion ended at that point, and I returned to my duties. Over the years, I’ve thought about that conversation. I think she is correct. There may indeed be other worlds superimposed onto ours. There are physical locations, not just mental states of being, that seem to facilitate interactions of a peculiar if not mystical nature. Perhaps our minds are like radio receivers tuned in a specific way. Should the tuning change, what will be our perceptions? There may also be interference patterns generated that distort normal or uniform space and time in certain places. I have always wondered about the role of ancient and modern ceremonies happening in only select locations in that regard. Perhaps, some souls and venues are more ‘in tune’ than others and certain physical points amplify that experience. This property may be one such location.”
Stanley smiled and looked at me directly. “What you may have heard was a warning that you were moving beyond the area where such interference patterns, if that is what they are, present themselves. For more specifics, you might wish to confer with Dagmar.”
“Thank you for that information. I will speak with her. Perhaps we should now take up Bernard’s warning?”
“Very well. I’ve done some further research into the von Hofmanstal family since your last visit, using several of my contacts who are familiar with the family and have intimate knowledge of their history. I have collected what I’ve found into a file should you wish to peruse it. It might save time if I summarize what I’ve discovered. Would that be acceptable?”
“By all means,” I answered.
“Very well, let me begin by saying that the von Hofmanstals are an ancient family with Austrian roots whose conduct, given their long history, has not always been exemplary. Regardless, I doubt there exists a family, having wielded real power for an extended period, that hasn’t been forced to bend what might be considered best practices in the interest of expediency, if not survival. Each will have bodies buried here and there, deeds that must be glossed over, and progeny best left off the family tree. The von Hofmanstals are no exception.”
I shifted in my chair as Stanley continued.
“They are secretive, calculating, and opportunistic, but nonetheless successful. Their activities before and after the Second World War are sufficient proof of their pragmatism and skill in strategic thinking.
“For example, as Hitler came to power, the old baron knew that a time would come when he would have to make a choice between supporting or resisting the growing influence of National Socialism, for which the family had much to thank. The family’s wealth and importance had grown with their substantial investments in several German pharmaceuticals during the thirties. The funding of Temmler Pharma proved particularly lucrative thanks to the recommendations of Fredrich von Hofmanstal, Hugo’s older brother. He had a brilliant mind and wanted nothing more than to be a scientist. Since Germany had the best schools, he was sent there. He specialized in toxicology and later teamed up with the physiologist Otto Ranke. His advice was widely sought after, and as Fredrich’s star rose, Hugo was sent west to England to hedge the family fortunes should his brother’s success and Germany’s resurgence turn out to be temporary. This proved remarkably far-sighted.
“When war eventually broke out, Hugo remained in London helping the Allies, where he became vital in the movements of supplies and materiel. Like his brother, his star rose, and with it, his ability to influence decisions about the redistribution of property once the war ended. As to what ultimately happened to Fredrich, little is known. He was listed as missing in action and presumed dead after the abortive German siege of Stalingrad. His body was never recovered, and efforts to uncover his fate came up empty-handed. The title passed to Hugo at the death of the old baron.
“My point here is that the von Hofmanstals weathered a crisis that was far greater than themselves by never fully committing to one side or the other despite ethical, ideological, or moral considerations. They look to their own advantage, and the family legacy is kept in the foreground, irrespective of the political, economic, or cultural climate. As to what that legacy is to be, I don’t know precisely, although there are a few hints. The family has been collecting artifacts of a dark nature for some time as well as joining forces with those who hold similar items. Those who are in the position to afford such things are not without influence. Perhaps gathering power to themselves is all it is, but maybe there is more. They are taciturn by nature, so their objectives are not easily deciphered.
“In addition, the von Hofmanstals eschew publicity as a policy except when absolutely necessary. That in a nutshell is the nature of the family you will be marrying into. What I have said is not meant to denigrate them, but a statement of the facts as I know them. They are powerful, and power is as addictive as it is dangerous. All great families have similar designs and issues. I doubt that is news, yes?”
“Nothing particularly new,” I answered. “Perhaps I’ll ask the baron tomorrow at dinner as part of my own due diligence.”
“Really?” said Johnny. “I would like to hear what he has to say about that.”
“I would, too,” added Stanley. “But I would take care. Once you are in the know, such knowledge cannot be taken back, and that can sometimes lead to unpleasant choices.”
Johnny shifted in his chair. “Dead men tell no tales. Perhaps that’s what Bernard was hinting at.”
Stanley smiled, leaned back and steepled his fingers. “I wouldn’t go that far, at least not yet. There are a few things you should know, however; not about the family in general, but about your fiancée in particular. I had intended originally to say nothing about any of this, but now I think I must. I would not want you placed at a disadvantage, should this information surface at an awkward moment, and take you unawares.”
“What information might that be?” I asked. I had a sinking feeling.
“It concerns two deaths that took place during your fiancée’s early years.”
