The Scarletti Inheritance - By Robert Ludlum Page 0,30

hand. 'Welcome home, Ulster. It's the start of a new life for you. Mark my words.'

'Yes. I think it is. Not overnight, but it's a beginning.'

Elizabeth Scarlatti slammed the flat of her hand down on the desk as she rose from her chair.

'You're sorry? Sorry? You don't fool me for a minute! You're frightened out of your wits and well you should be! You damned fool! You ass! What did you think you were doing? Playing games! Little boy games!'

Ulster Scarlett gripped the arm of the sofa in which he sat and repeated to himself over and over again, Heinrich Kroeger, Heinrich Kroeger.

'I demand an explanation, Ulster!'

'I told you. I was bored. Just plain bored.'

'How involved are you?'

'Oh, Christ! I'm not. All I did was give some money for a supply. A shipment. That's all.'

'Who did you give the money to?'

'Just - guys. Fellows I met at clubs.'

'Were they criminals?'

'I don't know. Who isn't these days? Yes, I guess they were. They are. That's why I'm out of it. Completely out of it!'

'Did you ever sign anything?'

'Jesus, no! You think I'm crazy?'

'No. I think you're stupid.'

Heinrich Kroeger, Heinrich Kroeger. Ulster Scarlett rose from the sofa and lit a cigarette. He walked to the fireplace and threw the match on the crackling logs.

'I'm not stupid, Mother,' replied Elizabeth's son.

Elizabeth dismissed his pouting objection. 'You only supplied money? You were never involved in any violence?'

'No! Of course not!'

'Then who was the ship's captain? The man who was murdered?'

'I don't know! Look, I told you. I admit I was down there. Some guys said I'd get a kick out of seeing how the stuff came in. But that's all, I swear it. There was trouble. The crew started fighting and I left. I got out of there as fast as I could.'

'There's nothing more? That's the extent of it?'

'Yes. What do you want me to do? Bleed from my hands and feet?'

'That's not very likely.' Elizabeth walked around the desk and approached her son. 'What about this marriage, Ulster. Is it, too, because you're bored?'

'I thought you'd approve.'

'Approve? I wasn't aware that my approval or disapproval concerned you.'

'It does.'

'I approve of the Saxon girl, but I doubt for the reasons Chancellor thinks I should. She seems to be a lovely girl from what I've seen of her... I'm not at all sure I approve of you... Do you love her?'

Ulster Scarlett looked casually at his mother. 'I think she'll make a good wife.'

'Since you avoid my question, do you think you'll make a good husband?'

'Why, Mother. I read in Vanity Fair where I was New York's most eligible bachelor.'

'Good husbands and eligible bachelors are often mutually exclusive... Why do you want to be married?'

'It's time I should be.'

'I'd accept that answer from your brother. Not from you.' Scarlett walked away from his mother to the windows. This was the moment. This was the moment he had planned, the moment he had rehearsed. He had to do it simply, say it simply. He'd pull it off and one day Elizabeth would recognize how wrong she was. He wasn't stupid; he was brilliant.

'I tried to tell Chance. I'll try again with you. I do want to get married. I do want to get interested in something... You asked me if I love the girl. I think I do. I think I will. What's important to me now is that I get straightened out.' He turned from the window and faced his mother. 'I'd like to learn what you built for us. I want to know what the Scarlatti family's all about. Everyone seems to know but me. It's a place to start, Mother.'

'Yes, it's a place to start. But I should caution you. When you speak of Scarlatti, don't be under any illusions that your name guarantees you a voice in its management. You'll have to prove your value before you receive any responsibility - or authority. In that decision, I am Scarlatti.'

'Yes. You've always made that very clear.'

Elizabeth Scarlatti circled the desk and sat down in her chair. 'I've never been wedded to the idea that nothing changes. Everything changes. And it's possible you have talent. You are the son of Giovanni Scarlatti and, perhaps, I was a damned fool to change the surname. It seemed right at the time. He was a genius... Go to work, Ulster. We'll see what happens.'

Ulster Stewart Scarlett walked down Fifth Avenue. The sun was out and he left his topcoat open. He smiled to himself. Several passersby