New York City, July 2009
Boris chewed the final bite of his mushroom carbonara, making sure to savor the taste on his tongue. The scare today had been one more reminder of how little time he had. He meant to enjoy every second as much as was humanly possible. Boris' eyes took in the bistro, his vision mercifully having cleared an hour ago. The room was empty, save his bodyguard Ahman.
He'd chosen the restaurant for its private location and prestigious reputation. Buying the eatery out for the evening had been fairly costly, but hopefully the expense would be worth it. Boris knew the value of the setting stage in any business dealing. The display of wealth may have been a bit vulgar, but it should get the point across to his expected guest. The Gardners may have been a wealthy family, but they weren't in the same stratosphere as Boris. Their representative would do well to remember that.
Hank would not want him here, of that Boris was certain. The good doctor, despite his prior experience with the privileged class, remained optimistic about people in a way that Boris envied. Hank believed that if the Gardners were approached as rational human beings, they would see the error of their ways. Boris was willing to attempt to resolve the issue the manner the doctor desired. If that effort failed, however, Boris had other tactics at his disposal.
A waiter strode into the backroom, with a well-dressed man in his thirties sauntering behind him. Boris wasn't certain what to make of the spring in the man's step, but he stood and extended his hand regardless.
"Mr. Gardner. Thank you for coming."
The younger man pumped Boris' hand once then dropped into his seat as though it was a sofa in his own home. Social graces had clearly not been the hallmark of Mr. Gardner's upbringing. As if to emphasize this point, the man reached across the table and plucked a breadstick from Boris' basket. Boris mentally corrected himself. Gardner was not a man, but a boy. This individual, despite being Hank's biological age, was nowhere near his maturity.
Boris recalled his first meeting with Hank. The doctor had been informal, perhaps a bit combative, but not truly ill-mannered. Never had he displayed this presumptive air of entitlement. Gardner's behavior grated on Boris' nerves like nails on a chalkboard.
"Who could refuse an invitation from Boris Kuester von Jurgens-Ratenicz?"
Boris managed a tight smile as he lowered himself into his own chair. He supposed he could give Gardner credit for the correct pronunciation. It wasn't completely surprising given that Boris' name was known within financial circles. It had been enough to convince the Gardners to withdraw their challenge of Hank's medical license and agree to this meeting. That was a promising start.
"Are you familiar with the term 'noblesse oblige' Mr. Gardner?"
"I can't say I am."
Boris wasn't surprised. In his experience the American privileged class didn't educate their scions the way European nobility did. History meant far less to them.
"It's a French phrase from the 1800s that translates to 'nobility obliges.' It means those born with rank and wealth have a duty to those less fortunate than themselves."
Strictly speaking the Kuester von Jurgens-Ratenicz clan hadn't always supported this principle, but his father had believed in it. It was one of the final lessons he'd impressed upon his son before illness claimed his mind.
"Is there a point to this history lesson?" Boris blinked, his thoughts returning to the present.
"The point is that your behavior, as it relates to Dr. Hank Lawson, is an unacceptable abuse of your privilege."
Garner's eyebrows raised in an expression of mock surprise.
"He is responsible for my father's death. He needs to be held accountable."
Despite his words, the boy's tone held no heat, nor trace of grief. That boded ill for Hank's theory that the Gardners' malicious prosecution of him was due to their heightened emotional state. Still, perhaps this son was merely masking his pain due to Boris' presence. He owed it to Hank to at least try things his way.
"I've spoken to multiple medical professionals about your father's case. They all told me the same thing. Dr. Lawson was in no way negligent. The complications that resulted in your father's death were, forgive the expression, less common than a snowstorm in July. A terrible tragedy, but not one that could have been anticipated."
Gardner's expression didn't flicker even for an instant. Nothing Boris had revealed was news to the young man.
"I don't care if the chances of complications were one in a hundred million. The hospital administrator told Lawson to stay with my father. He disobeyed. If he had been where he was supposed to be, my father would still be alive."
Gardiner's voice had become frigid. No sympathy, no mercy, no humanity. Completely unyielding.
"There is no way to be sure of that." Hank was extraordinary, but he wasn't a god. Surely Gardner at least understood that truth.
"I've investigated him. He is highly respected in the emergency medical community. In one testimonial he was dubbed 'the MacGyver of Medicine.' This miracle man abandoned my father, a philanthropist who'd given millions to that hospital, to save his basketball buddy. I think a jury could be persuaded to see things my way. Unless, of course, you'd like to present me with an alternative offer?"
Suddenly Gardner's attitude became crystal clear. As Boris had feared, the family had not hounded Hank because they were misinformed or devastated. Boris may have understood that. Certainly there had been moments in his past when, overcome with a heightened emotion, he'd welded his wealth as a weapon. He wasn't proud of it, but the wounded tended to lash out with whatever tools they had available. But, no this wasn't any kind of emotional display. This was pride. Calculated vindictiveness. The selfish certainty that any mere mortal that offended their exalted line deserved punishment.
"Alternative offer?" Gardner's eyes darted to the folder Boris had set out on the table.
"You obviously have some investment in Dr. Lawson, or else you wouldn't have sent your legal gladiators to defend him today. We backed off the license challenge in good faith. I presumed your invitation tonight meant you were open to negotiating."
Boris felt the anger that had been simmering within him reach a boiling point. The boy thought Boris had brought him here to buy him off. Any outrage Gardner felt about his father's death was clearly secondary to the opportunity to make a profit. This man knew Hank was innocent of wrongdoing. He was aware that preventing the doctor from pursuing his vocation would cost an untold number of people their lives. He was using his father's death to attempt to extort money. It was among the most repugnant displays Boris had ever witnessed.
He took a deep breath to steady himself. There was no point in becoming agitated. Boris had prepared for this outcome, and given what he'd just heard, had no compunction in executing his plan. On the contrary, he'd do so with great satisfaction. Noblesse oblige. Boris could protect Hank from this bottom feeder and so he would.
"Dr. Lawson wanted to meet with you today. He thought perhaps your zealous pursuit of his misery was born from ignorance and grief. He was willing to explain himself, despite all you've cost him already. How grateful I am that he was prevented. The thought of the good doctor humbling himself before you in any way turns my stomach."
Boris unceremoniously tossed the file at Gardner, whose face was beginning to redden at Boris' contemptuous words.
"Excuse me?!" Boris stood and gazed down on the boy with every iota of disdain he felt.
"I will not. From this moment forward you will cease any and all actions taken against Dr. Hank Lawson. You will quietly drop your frivolous lawsuit. If I discover anyone in your family has spread a single slanderous rumor or posted a lone libelous tweet, directly or by proxy, the contents of this file will be sent to the SEC. Good night. "
Boris marched out of the restaurant, pausing only to pass an exorbitant tip to the manager and server. Natan had pulled the car to the curb, ready to shuttle him to the helicopter pad. He'd be home within the hour. By that time Gardner should have finished examining the evidence Boris' investigators had uncovered concerning their financial wrongdoings. He considered every penny he'd paid for the proof to be well worth it.
Sliding into the luxurious leather seat of his car, Boris felt a wave of exhaustion overtake him. His anger begin to dissipate to a weariness he'd felt many times before. Humanity was so frequently disappointing. The Gardners were no more than the latest in a line of petty, grasping souls, each seemingly more venal than the next.
On his more optimistic days he liked to believe his wealth attracted these creatures in far greater proportions than was the true norm. More often though, he felt mired in an unending swamp of avarice. That was why the exceptions mattered so much. They gave Boris a teether to hold onto. A reason to not completely despair of his fellow man.
Hank had stood by him today. Even with his own livelihood dangling by a thread, his primary concern had been Boris. The man possessed a genuine desire to help him and like their first meeting, had stubbornly refused to be reimbursed for that assistance. Boris smiled to himself, remembering how he'd not allowed Hank his way in that encounter either.
The doctor had been right. Not about the Gardners, but about Boris. He'd acted recklessly in an effort to regain some semblance of control. Boris had nearly paid for his foolishness with his sight. As much as he was loath to admit it, Boris needed someone to counsel him. Someone who wasn't afraid to contradict him. Someone with integrity and expertise. In other words, he needed Hank Lawson.
Trust had never come easily to Boris. It was not his nature and his experience of the world hadn't helped matters. Even, or perhaps especially, within his own family he couldn't think of a single living soul in whom he had complete faith. Not Milos, not Claudette, not even Dima. He loved them, certainly. If they were threatened he would defend them with all of his personal and financial resources. But absolute trust? No.
Outside the family there was Dieter. His manservant had been privy to his affairs, both business and personal, for nearly half his life. That must surely count as trust. Boris considered the scattering of friends and lovers he'd had over the years. Of all of them only Marisa, despite their estrangement, had his full confidence. Now he was on the precipice of adding another name to his very short list. That should bring some trepidation, and yet somehow it didn't. No, the thought inspired another feeling altogether. Hope.
