Carter's War - 29. Chapter 29

Will stared after him until he had entered the house.

"It's a shame...." he murmured, wondering at what could have been if the situation hadn't been so complicated, so screwed up.

However, he remembered Marc's anger at his situation, and sighed. He pulled his overcoat tightly around him, and set off down the path again, now by himself, mulling over his thoughts.

Ahead, a figure in the cold haze of the night and the fog approached him. There was no mistaking Robert Avery's approach, a cloudy brooding countenance over his face. He slowed his walk to meet Will on the snow-covered pathway that looped the house.

The old man came to a halt and allowed his young director to walk up to him, turning slightly to look back at the site of the skirmish between the two boys. "Who won?" he asked simply.

Will raised his eyebrow, but smiled slightly despite himself. "None of them, but God knows if they know that." He sighed, "Lucas, if you had to take it on pure physical merit. But the kid was pissed drunk."

The old man lifted a hand to point at the ridge where the upper terrace was located. "I was able to watch unobserved from up there."

"Ah. And you didn't interfere?"

Avery lifted the corner of his mouth in a half smile of his own. "And if I had stepped in between you and Bruce in the boardroom?"

Will chuckled, "We weren't trying to kill each other...." He glanced at Avery, "Well, at least I wasn't...."

The older man nodded thoughtfully, looking back at his young friend. "It's all relative, I learned that a long time ago."

"True enough." Will looked around at the snow-covered landscape and sucked in a breath of cold air.. "I've never been to your house before. Glad to finally see it."

Avery motioned about him. "This place was built by a prominent politician who advocated slavery, my father taught me about him when I was growing up, I felt it was ironic that an African-Canadian would own it now."

Will nodded, "Reminds me of when I visited England last year, at least the highland parts of it. There weren't quite so many stars there though." He glanced up.

Avery shrugged. "It was over there," he lifted a hand to motion to the terrace where couples were watching the skating, "that I first had the idea that I wanted to build a communications satellite, have something with my name on it up there among them."

Will glanced over to the terrace. "With the view you get from here of them, I don't doubt it..."

Avery blew out another sigh, watching his breath fog before him as he started to walk back towards the upper terrace. "How are you finding the celebration?"

"Interesting...." Will smiled. "To say the least. I've never had a chance to see the staff outside of work, shows me how.... unique they all are, sir."

Avery chuckled, "With this company, the term 'interesting' takes on a whole new meaning." He mounted the steps, "It is more like being a fond father than a CEO."

"True, that," Will admitted. "Anyway, I thought you were hosting your party? What brought you out here in this cold?" Will asked, scanning the landscape intently.

Avery turned, seeming to draw quiet, pausing on the step, "I needed some air I suppose, and Kathryn always loved the gardens..."

"Your wife?"

"Ex-wife, we were separated long before she passed away." He rested a hand on the wrought-iron railing, "But the gardens were her favourite place; I was told she used to stand on the edge of the lake and wait for the stars each night that I was working..." he trailed off.

Will watched the old man, his old friend from long ago, and listened.

Avery settled his eyes on the young director, "And what about you? I know this acquisition has been stressful on everyone, and I know you don't agree with what Bruce has done, but right now we don't have any choice but see how this thing plays out." He blew out a long sigh, "I don't like it any more than you do, he should have told someone. But I can't fire him until this is resolved, he's the only one that can pull off the Tri-Tech deal; the stockholders are worried and they have faith in Bruce's ability to make this deal go through. And right now I'm worried about the shareholders meeting on Tuesday."

Will blinked, and nodded, "You're worried they are going to replace you." He continued, "Surely they have to realize..." He looked over at his mentor and friend and stopped, knowing the answer, "Of course, it's about money, no one wants to lose money, and if Bruce can bring the firm back from the brink of bankruptcy..." He sighed reluctantly, "The fact that he was the one that put us in the situation in the first place doesn't matter does it, they already blame you...." Will turned his head to look up at the stars. "I hate these bloody games, it's juvenile, as if we don't have enough problems to deal with right now."

"And with my controlling share right now frozen by the pension fund, I don't control my own vote." Robert surmised tiredly. "They still need my signature to use that vote, but I can't use it either."

"Damn," Will said, shivering in the cold. They were in trouble, there was no doubt about it, and Bruce had tied them all up in a neat little box.

Robert watched the reaction, noting it; he had seen that look before back when he had wrestled with the biggest decisions of his life, so much about Will reminded Avery of himself. It was a flash, but it was there, and Avery sympathized. "Here, I have something that might help."

Will raised an eyebrow at Avery.

He reached into his coat and produced a small flask of fine malt whiskey that had been bought for him years ago after he had won a bet with a man who would go on to become the Canadian finance minister, a payment for the Blue Jay's winning two world series in a row. It had been rare to find, and the old man had saved the bottle for an occasion; he saw that he needed it now.

Will smiled slightly at Avery with the flask.

The old man uncapped it. "To ward off the chill," he commented, as he took a draught and handed it across to Will. "It is almost the hour of the Wolf, and to quote a very wise old man, one should never be sober during that hour."

"Definitely bloody not," Will nodded, draining his glass as well. "Never did like that wolf.... visited me far too often lately." He sighed as the smile ran away from his face, "I'll never get used to this job, and the games I have to play just to stay ahead in it. I mean my friends all say how lucky I am to have such a great job, good money, and nice office. They have no idea." Will stared into the flask, "I'm twenty-six and I feel like I'm an old man some nights. I deal with things I barely understand, it's like playing poker all day long. Keep the game face." Will sighed, "I'll leave that to Vegas showgirls, thank you very much."

"I made you a director because you earned the position; I just remember what it was like to claw my way up from nothing, sure that I would watch it all slip away through my fingers." Avery took back the flask and drank again, "I always wondered at my father; I sat up with him one night, and watched the ghosts of the past visit him one after the other; he often warned me that I would meet my own one day..." He shook his head, "But for you, you're facing yours now..."

Will glanced at Avery. "Well, I've always been grateful for the faith you put in me, though I don't feel I earned it. At least, that's how I'm trying to view it as..." Will took back the offered flask raised it to Avery in a toast.

Avery nodded, "I know how you feel, one day you'll realize you have earned it." He met the toast, "To the Wolf, may she stay away just a little longer tonight."

"Along with those ghosts of the past," Will countered, "at least for tonight."

Avery watched the young man drain the flask, "You always were someone who appreciated the simplest of pleasures," he replied, and changed the subject. "What do you think of my home?"

"Your home? It's one bloody big house, for starters. But it's a fine one, from what I've seen of it. As unique as its owner, I might add. It's got a fascinating history to it as well, Robert. I know, I know, its poetic irony." He smiled.

The old man chuckled, "As I said before, only in Canada can a boy from Grafton Street that played in a gutter build a communications business and own a house like this; I always felt that I wouldn't be pretentious, that I would never own a big house, but I did it, in the end. Hard work, a little luck and a country that doesn't care about the colour of your skin, only the colour of your sweat."

"Well, sir, I can only hope one day to have a third the success you have had. You built an amazing firm. You should be proud."

Robert Avery studied the younger man, "Sometimes I wish you were ten years older." He sighed reluctantly, "You're brash, opinionated and at times reckless. That was the reason I promoted you, because in time you are going to make one hell of a managing director." He sighed again, regretfully, "But you're not ready yet."