Page 20 of His Daughter

Left. Right. Left. Right. Left.

I hit until my knuckles burned. Until my lungs ached. Until the memories sank back down to wherever I kept them, that locked room in the center of my chest where nothing was allowed to escape.

I stopped, pressed my forehead against the bag, and breathed.

I straightened up, unwrapped the tape, and ran my thumb across the split skin on my left knuckle. I’d had enough. I exited the gym and headed to my room. I stripped quickly and jumped into the shower.

The water came down scalding. I let it stay until every last trace of heat was gone. When I stepped out, the mirror had fogged completely.

I put on a charcoal suit and a pale-blue shirt with the collar open, then walked out of my room and into the kitchen.

Mrs. Parrish was at the counter, wiping it down with a cloth. Her silver hair that she wore in a bun didn’t budge as she moved. She looked up and nodded when I walked in.

"Good morning, Mr. Hale. Your coffee is on the counter."

"Thank you."

"Will you be needing anything else before I start on the study?"

"No. Thank you, Mrs. Parrish."

She picked up her caddy of supplies from the counter and walked toward the hallway.

I drank the espresso and checked the markets on my phone. The Lassiter deal was holding. The FTSE was up. The Nikkei was steady.

The car was waiting at the curb. My driver, Thomas, held the door. I slid in and opened my phone again before the seat belt clicked.

Graham picked up on the first ring. "We have an issue with Roland Caine, boss."

"Good morning to you, too, Graham. Lovely weather. How's the cat?"

"Julian's hit a wall. Caine won't engage. We need to find a solution."

I watched Park Avenue scroll past the window. "Get me his direct line."

"I'll have it in twenty minutes."

"Make it ten."

He hung up. The number came through in eight minutes. I dialed.

Caine picked up on the fourth ring. "Who is this, and how did you get this number?"

I almost laughed. Must suck to be so paranoid all the time. "Caine, it's Declan Hale, and I got this number because I'm very resourceful and mildly relentless." I smiled into the phone. "I'm calling because you and I both know this conversation needs to happen eventually. Face-to-face."

A pause. I could hear Caine breathing. Then he said, "Let me tell you something, Hale. I spent forty years building this company with my own two hands. I'm not just going to hand it over to you."

"I couldn't agree more. Which is why I'm calling you directly."

Another pause. Longer. I let it stretch. Silence was a currency, and the man who spent it first lost the negotiation.

"I'm busy this month," Caine said finally. "I’ll see you on the twenty-seventh. My office. Two o'clock. Don't be late."

"I'm never late, Caine."

I hung up and smiled. Three weeks. That was more than enough time to assemble the file, learn the man inside out, and walk into that room with every answer already waiting before he could ask a question.

The car turned onto Park Road.