SIX

NICOLAE CARPATHIA became consumed with ferreting out his competition at Corona Technologies. He had an idea, of course. And when Reiche Planchette came to report on his task of getting Nicolae into the Romanian military academies in a hybrid role, Carpathia changed the subject.

“You wanted a civilian student and adjunct instructor position,” Planchette began. “It might interest you to know—”

“Someone is leaking information from somewhere, Reiche, and I want to know who.”

“Leaking, sir?”

“From within Carpathian Trading or from Intercontinental.”

“Oh, I doubt the bank would risk that, Nicolae. And I’d hate to think you face treachery from within.”

“That kind of naïveté will result in more of the same, Reiche. Get Ion in here. Let us find out if he has an opinion regarding anyone from the bank meeting the other day.”

“Ion?”

“Yes! Ion!”

“Well, I was under the impression he had left us.”

Carpathia cocked his head. “Left us? Without my knowledge? Impossible.”

“Actually, I am quite certain. He has taken a similar position with a firm in Moldova.”

“This cannot be! No notice? No one informing me?”

“I just assumed that if I knew, you knew. Would not Personnel have kept you in the loop?”

“Apparently not, Reiche. When did Ion leave?”

“Just days ago.”

“No severance, I hope. I mean, not giving any notice. Amazing. Tell me he did not join a competitor.”

“Oh, he did indeed, Nicolae. I am so sorry you were not informed. I would have told you myself, had I only known—”

“You should have!”

“—that you would have been left out of the normal protocol. From now on I will be sure you are kept informed of every eventuality.”

“Not Tismaneanu. Tell me Ion did not go to work for Emil.”

“Good call, sir. That is precisely where he has gone.”

Nicolae stood and slammed a fist on his desk. “Tismaneanu Tech is owned by a crook, and everyone knows it. Emil lives here so he can serve in the Adunarea Deputatilor, and yet everyone knows he really lives in an apartment in Galati, just this side of the border from his headquarters in Moldova!”

Planchette sat nodding solemnly, which only infuriated Carpathia more. If Reiche knew all this, why didn’t he do something about it? Why didn’t Nicolae himself?

“Well, I am glad he lives here, Reiche. Do you know why?”

“Tell me, Nicolae.”

“Because I live here too.”

Reiche looked blank. What a dolt for a man so revered in spiritual circles.

“He is looking for a third term as a deputy in the lower parliament,” Nicolae said. “How would he like to be soundly defeated by a newcomer?”

“You’re not saying—”

“Of course I am saying! Hold on a minute.” Nicolae sat at his desk and called Corona Technologies in the States. “Jimmy,” he said at last, “Nicolae Carpathia here. All right, I found out it was Tismaneanu who got the contract with you for Europe.”

“You didn’t hear that from me, Nicolae.”

Carpathia glanced at Planchette and raised a fist. “No, you are in the clear. But I need to know they have only the oral-cellular deal and are not privy to cellular-solar.”

“That is correct. I have told no one but you about the latter. And frankly, my people are excited about your confidence in us.”

dingbat story break

Irene was more than curious. She was desperate to know. “Jackie, can people with dementia or even full-blown Alzheimer’s become believers?”

“In a lucid moment, who knows? It would obviously have to be a work of God in more than one way. They would have to be clear of mind long enough to understand what someone was saying, and that someone would have to be there at the right time. And then the patient would have to be receptive.”

“You can imagine what I’m praying for, Jackie.”

“Of course. How bad is Mrs. Steele at this point?”

“She has the most promise. There’s little doubt it’s Alzheimer’s, but for now she has just short-term memory loss, a lot of confusion. And she’s starting to get agitated.”

“And Mr. Steele?”

“We’re losing him. He’s not with us much of the time, but rather than being spaced out like a lot of his fellow patients, he’s upset. It’s as if he knows he should be able to remember things, express things, all that. But he just can’t.”

“Not at peace then.”

“Not at all.”

dingbat story break

Carpathia walked Planchette onto a balcony over his veranda. The wind whipped through a cloudless sky, and the sun highlighted the mountain peaks on the horizon.

“I never asked how you took care of my fathers, Reiche.”

“It was prudent that you did not. It was one of the most distasteful assignments I ever had, and I don’t wish to revisit it.”

“I need you again, Reiche.”

“Please, no. Emil Tismaneanu has extensive security, not unlike yourself.”

“I will defeat Emil politically. But an example needs to be made of Ion.”

“Ion? Surely you can’t be serious.”

“Think, man. I can live with disloyalty to a certain degree. A man wants to move on, finds a better deal, does not want to face me, all right. That proves he is independent, has his own mind. Maybe someday I hire him back. But if you think that is the extent of what Ion did to me, you are a prostovan with such naivitate that I must question your intelligence. Ion is a traitor, Reiche. If I were to let him get away with costing me a hundred-million-dollar deal, my reputation would be worthless. I would be seen as a weakling, easily trampled upon.”

“And yet if something happens to Ion, you will become the immediate suspect.”

“I was not suspected in the deaths of my fathers.”

“You were just past childhood, and that was a very expensive, very professional job. And, as I say, one I do not wish to revisit.”

“We are revisiting it, Reiche. Ion will be dealt with in such a way that it will be clearly an accident. No one will even suspect me. You will make it happen.”

Reiche moved away, staring into the distance. “If it is done so well, how will that protect your reputation? A man who has seemingly done you wrong is befallen by an unfortunate accident. It will be seen as a coincidence, karma at best.”

“Those who need to know will know. Or at least they will wonder. This might even discourage Emil from running against me.”

dingbat story break

Irene could not have been more stunned if her mother-in-law had told her she had been a contortionist in a former life. After a couple of typical episodes of forgetting where she was or which way to turn to get back to her room, she asked what time lunch was.

“We just came from there, Mom,” Irene said. “You enjoyed the coleslaw, remember?”

“Oh yes! That was today?”

It had been ten minutes before.

“Mom, do you ever pray?”

“Why, yes, of course I do. I pray every day. I am a Christian, you know.”

I know you think you are, Irene wanted to say. But the woman was fragile.

“I worry so about my husband. I don’t think he really knows the Lord.”

“You don’t?” Irene said.

“Not like I do, no. My son either.”

“How so?”

“You have to have Jesus in your heart,” she said, sounding so much like a little girl that Irene was taken aback.

“And how do you get Jesus in your heart?”

“Not physically, you know,” the old woman said. “It’s just an expression.”

“I understand.”

“I found it in the Bible. Our church never talked about it. That we’re all sinners and separated from God. That Jesus died for our sins. I mean, we heard that a lot, but it seemed to refer to the whole world. He did die for the whole world, but you have to receive Him for yourself. I have a favorite verse.”

“You do?”

“Oh, what’s the reference again?”

“I don’t know, Mom. What is it?”

“I like when you call me Mom. I’m not your mother, am I?”

“You’re my mother-in-law.”

“You’re Rayford’s wife. I was at your wedding.”

“You sure were.”

“When are you going to give us grandchildren?”

Irene pulled out pictures and reminded her of Chloe and Raymie.

“Of course, I remember.”

“And your favorite verse? What is it?”

“I can’t remember the address.”

Irene had never heard that term for a Bible reference. “Just tell me the words then.”

“ ‘As many as received Him, to them He gave the right to become children of God, to those who believe in His name.’ I believe in His name, Chloe.”

“I’m Irene.”

“I believe in His name, Irene.”

Irene could barely speak. What a gift this was!

“Everybody stops after Romans 3:23,” Mrs. Steele said, astonishing Irene anew.

“So that address you remember.”

The old woman nodded. “They need to read the next verse too.”

“Do you remember it?”

“Of course. Both of them. ‘For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.’ But here’s the best part: ‘being justified freely by His grace through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus.’ ”

“That is beautiful, Mom.”

“Yes, it is. John 1:12.”

“Beg pardon?”

“That’s the address of the first one, Chloe.”

“Irene.”

“Irene.”