The Almighty Part 12

'Come on. You need to talk to Harry Dietz. He is now my a.s.sistant, and he'll be the one you keep in touch with. I want you two to work out a modus operandi. Okay?'

'Okay.'

Armstead was about to leave his office when the telephone call had come from his wife Hannah.

She had wanted to know if he would be coming back for dinner, because she had something she wanted to discuss with him.

T can't be home for dinner,' he had told her, 'but as a matter of fact I will be coming by right now, just for a few minutes. I've got several appointments lined up, and I want to change clothes before going out again. I'll be by in a little bit. We can talk then.'

Now, in his bedroom of their penthouse apartment overlooking Central Park, Armstead had finished his dressing. He had three appointments ahead of him, and it was for his second appointment - date, really, a date with Kim Nesbit - that he had come back to change from a staid business suit into a younger and sportier outfit, lively cashmere sports jacket and Savile Row slacks. Inspecting himself in the full-length mirror, he was pleased. He hadn't looked better in years.

He realized that time was closing in, he would have to be on his way shortly. He had better leave five minutes for Hannah, who was still waiting for him in the living room. He wondered what she wanted to talk about when he was so busy. He had already told her all about the Yinger beat at breakfast this morning. What more was there to discuss? If it was something Hannah had on her mind, it couldn't be good. He hoped it would be nothing to mar his perfect day.

He went through the corridor into the living room. Hannah, he was pleased to note, was not in her usual wheelchair, the constant invalid. She was seated, instead, in the armchair near the television set. She even had color in her face. Going toward her, he wondered if he should sit briefly, but decided against it. Relaxing might invite a prolonged conversation. He decided to remain on his feet.

'Meant to tell you,' he said, 'we pa.s.sed the New York Times today, beat them out all the way.

How's that?'

58.

'Congratulations, Ed. I'm pleased for you.'

'I knew I could do it, and I've done it,' he said, extracting a cigar from his sports jacket and unpeeling it. Snipping off one end, he brought out his pocket lighter and lit up. 'Okay, Hannah, now what can I do for you? You wanted to talk about something.'

'About our son Roger,' she said.

'What about Roger?'

'I had a call from him a little while ago, from a hospital in Green Bay, Wisconsin.'

'A hospital? What do you mean? What's wrong? Is it anything serious - no, it couldn't be or he wouldn't have been able to call you, and you'd have told me on the phone.'

'It's not serious,' said Hannah, 'but it is still the hospital. Roger was climbing a mountain, and slipped and fell -'

'Climbing a mountain? There are no mountains around Green Bay.'

'A hill, then,' she said. 'Maybe I heard it wrong. Anyway, he took a fall and injured himself. A friend, climbing with him, got him to the nearest hospital. Roger sustained two leg fractures. Not serious, but incapacitating. It'll keep him laid up a little while.'

For some reason, hearing about this outdoors nonsense irritated Armstead. 'What in the h.e.l.l was he doing climbing?'

'It had something to do with his job.'

'Idiotic,' Armstead muttered. 'Serves him right.' He couldn't think of another Armstead in the family who had ever climbed anything, except into bed. The thought amused him, and he said more cheerfully, 'Well, as long as he's all right. Let me know how he's coming along. Is this it - what you wanted to talk to me about?'

'Not completely,' said Hannah. 'Ed, I wanted to ask you to come to Green Bay with me for the weekend.'

Armstead scowled. 'To do what? Hold his hand? G.o.d, Hannah, he's not a child anymore. Besides, he's got a doctor, plenty of friends there.'

'It's not the same as family, Ed. He's flat on his back. You know how he hates to be confined. I'm sure he'd like more company, be happy to see his parents. It would be comforting.'

Armstead waved his cigar in disgust. 'Hannah, you know better than that. I've just taken over. I've just made my mark. I'm up to my a.s.s in business, in the very middle of everything, with a million plans in progress -'

'Can't you put it aside for just one weekend?'

'Hannah, for chrissakes, I can't spare the time. Look, if you feel Roger needs company, then go to Wisconsin yourself and see him for the weekend. I'll arrange for a nurse to accompany you. How's that?'

With effort, Hannah said, 'I think he wanted so very much to see you, Ed. He told me on the phone he'd read about your Yinger exclusive in the local newspaper up there. He said to tell you it was fantastic. He was very proud of what you'd done.'

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Armstead was both surprised and pleased. 'Well, now, the boy has at least some sense.' He searched for the time. 'Tell you what, I've got to rush out now or I'll be late. But leave Roger's telephone number out for me. I should be back not too much after dinner. A short victory celebration with Dietz and Harmston. When I get back I'll give Roger a call myself. You go up and see him for the weekend. I'll miss you, but he needs you more. Now I'd better hurry.'

Once Armstead had left the apartment and stood waiting for the elevator, an odd thought occurred to him.

It occurred to him that he himself had been a son so long, he'd never had time to be a father.

Well, he told himself, maybe his own sonhood was coming to an end. Life would belong to him alone (and Roger - of course Roger). He'd have to get into it in today's session with the shrink.

Edward Armstead had sunk into the worn brown leather chair in Dr. Carl Scharf s office, and he had been talking for forty minutes, forcing the psychiatrist to listen. It had been a test of strength, and Armstead had enjoyed it.

Now he ceased talking and s.h.i.+fted his weight in the leather chair. Then he said, 'Carl, when are you going to get a new chair or have this one fixed? Christ, the springs are practically coming out. I have a sore a.s.s every time I leave you.'

'It's to remind the idle rich of the Spartan life. To remind you life is real, life is earnest, and it is also a pain in the a.s.s.'

'If I have to, I'll buy you a new chair for Christmas/ Armstead knew that Dr. Scharf would use the last ten or fifteen minutes to do a sum-up of their session. It was his pattern. It was all right. It always allowed Armstead - and other patients, too, he supposed - to leave with a clear picture of where he stood and where he should be going.

Emotionally, that is.

Waiting for the sum-up, he kept his eyes on the psychiatrist. Momentarily Dr. Scharf had taken on a resemblance to a beach ball. He was very globular this afternoon. His protruding curved belly hung over a narrow belt. He was as untidy as ever in the turtleneck sweater and wrinkled slacks. Dr.

Scharf was busily adjusting his feet on the footstool.

Armstead waited for wisdom. Or at least support for his own good cheer.

'Well, I must say, that was quite a scoop you pulled off, Edward,' said Dr. Carl Scharf.

'We don't call them scoops anymore,' said Armstead. 'We call them beats.'

'Your scoop was on the television news,' Dr. Scharf said. 'That's where I heard about Yinger's escaping.'

'You didn't read it in my paper? You know that paper is my life.'

'I bought three copies, just to keep you affluent,' said Dr. Scharf. 'I wondered, how did you get that story so fast, and exclusive yet?'

'Professional secret.'

'Hey, I'm your a.n.a.lyst, Edward. You're not supposed to

60.

have secrets. If I'm to be of help -'

'I don't need help today,' said Armstead complacently.

'Well, I'm proud of your - of your achievement,' said Dr. Scharf. He clasped his hands over his belly. 'You must be pleased with yourself. You officially won the right to keep the paper. You overcame your father's mistrust, and you accomplished what your father had not been able to accomplish in a decade. You're a mensch.'

'That's the way I feel.'

'You're free, free to do what you want to do, go as high as you want on your own.'

'I'm only beginning,' said Armstead. 'The Yinger beat was no flash in the pan. I'll see to that. I have a million plans. Once I get ready, I'm really going to shake up the media world. Everyone will know who I am.'

'That's still so important?'

'To be me, yes.'

'Is that it?'

'Well, you know what's in my head. I've got to eclipse my old man completely. Anything wrong with that?'

'I didn't say so.'

'When people speak of Armstead, they're going to mean Edward, not Ezra.'

'Anything else you want to say about your father?'

Armstead considered it. 'No, I think that's it. Well - I guess there's something else I should mention.

After I saw you the other day, I dropped in on Kim, Kim Nesbit.'

The psychiatrist nodded. 'How was she?'

'Drunk. Also, beautiful.'

'Was she pleased to see you?'

'I think so.' He held back a moment, then added, T f.u.c.ked her.' He paused. 'It was good, very good.

I - I intend to see more of her.'

Dr. Scharf took his feet off the ottoman. 'Why?' he asked.

'I don't know. Do you object?'

'You know I'm not here to judge you. I'm just curious about why you were intimate with her.'

'I don't know. Why not?'

Dr. Scharf pushed himself to his feet and said pleasantly, 'Was it to show your father you were a man - or to show yourself?' He waited for his patient to rise, and then accompanied him to the door. 'Let's talk about that next time.'

It was to show no one anything, Armstead decided as he rested on the lime green sofa in Kim Nesbit's apartment. His eyes followed her graceful movement as she walked to the portable bar. He needed a woman, a pa.s.sionate woman, because he needed the feeling of youth and strength and 61 purpose. His wife had dried up on him years ago. Except for occasional worry about their son Roger such as she had displayed earlier in the day, Hannah's main concern had become herself and her ever more sickly body. Kim was vibrant and pleasure-giving and a discovery that he had dreamt of and only now was able to explore. He did not have to prove anything to his father or to himself.

It was far less complicated. He wanted this woman, and he had her, and would have her again and again, and it was delicious. He would have to convince Dr. Scharf of his true feelings at their next session.

'Scotch and water?' Kim called from the bar, pouring.

'Exact.'

'I'm learning,' she said, bringing him the gla.s.s. 'I want to please you in every way, Ed.'

'You do, you do.' He saw that she was empty-handed. 'What about you? Aren't you drinking?'

'I'll have a Perrier.'

'That's not drinking.'

'I don't need any more,' she said, sinking into the sofa beside him. 'I have you, darling.' She took his head in her hands and drew him closer. He found her moist lips, felt her tongue, felt the softness of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s against him.

Ending the kiss, he could see her bare b.r.e.a.s.t.s beneath the opening of her diaphanous negligee, and he was fully aroused.

'Are you still as happy as you were when you called me this morning?' she asked.

'I know what could make me happier,' he said, getting to his feet and pulling her up in front of him.

'Darling -' she said, about to turn to the bedroom.

'One second, Kim.' He fumbled in his pocket and brought out the small velvet Tiffany box. He pressed it into her hand. 'For you. To celebrate.'

She fussed over it, lifting the lid. 'Oh, Ed,' she murmured, near tears. 'It's beautiful.'