Deadly Pedigree - By Jimmy Fox Page 0,31

cordial terms–Max would not listen to me and my staff. He blamed us, and sold. As you may know, the markets enjoyed substantial subsequent gains, with intermittent losses.”

“Of course,” Nick said. “Who doesn’t?”

She got his sarcasm. A shadow of amusement. “In fact, we did very well in 1990, considering the extent of that pullback; we had learned a great deal from ’87. I believe that Max could have recouped all his losses and made a handsome profit in a very short time, if he had listened to us. A historic bull market appears to be taking shape even as we speak.

“My opinion, however, is not what Max wants now. He wants revenge. He is a sick, paranoid man, bent on destroying me. You are helping him do that. He intends to blackmail me with certain information about this ancestor of mine, this Balazar. Specifically, that he was born into the Jewish faith.”

“Why don’t you file a complaint for harassment or something, take him to court? I’m sure it’s not for lack of lawyers at your beck and call,” Nick said.

Natalie Armiger waved a hand in the air dismissively. She could have been shooing away a pesky insect. Nick sensed that the mosquito had become a hornet.

“Max would like that, I’m certain. No. Such steps would not bring to this dilemma the thoroughness, expertise, and–as you mentioned–confidentiality I expect from you.”

It sounded more like a warning than a tribute.

“What do you need me for? You already know more about this ancestor than I do,” Nick said. “Knock yourself out, prove whatever it is you’re trying to prove.”

She smiled faintly, a master chess player watching her opponent make a stupid move.

“In my case, knowledge is not enough. What I do know is this: my ancestor came to this country, he prospered, he sired heirs, he made more powerful friends than he made enemies, he died. Not such a remarkable story, in this land of opportunity, even for a Jew, saddled with the ancient animus that alleges collective guilt for the Roman crucifixion of Christ.”

With supreme poise she leaned slightly toward him, as if ready to reveal the secret algorithms of her hedge fund: “Earthly greed and jealousy, economic and doctrinal, of course, have always been the real driving forces behind anti-Semitism. A power game of vested interests, though the common man sees it as a conflict between good and evil played out on the Sistine Chapel ceiling. And we know who the eternal fall guy is, straight from central casting: the Jew, who can never be fully accepted or trusted. That is the blockbuster script, written nineteen centuries ago. A comforting theology, wouldn’t you say?”

“Yeah, if you’re Christian.” Armiger’s a bit of a heretic, Nick was thinking.

He still smarted from the uttered word “Jew”; his father always heard it as a slur on the lips of a non-Jew, no matter the context. It was a word so freighted with tragic history, so subject to ingrained contempt, that to hear it was to stop everything, try to read intent in the inflection of the speaker…and then, if the eyes and tone betrayed hatred, to punch the bastard in the face. A feisty sort, his father.

As if I don’t have enough hang-ups of my own, I have to carry around my dad’s, too!

“Quite so,” Mrs. Armiger said, interrupting Nick’s ruminations. “Excuse my idle philosophizing. As one gets older, one gets more certain of things and less concerned about disguising conclusions…. I’m sure you are well versed in the fascinating story of Jewish immigration to the South, the pivotal role Jewish merchants played in the development of the region? Times were relatively good for Jews here. This ancestor of mine surpassed historical precedent and laid the foundation for my family’s present wealth.”

“You speak like someone proud of her Jewish heritage, though, obviously, you’re not a practicing Jew. And even if you were, what would be so terrifying about Corban’s revealing that fact? I still don’t see the ‘dilemma’ you mentioned.”

“I am Episcopalian. And as far back as most people care to go, my family has embraced one of the mainstream Christian branches. Balazar converted; he was Catholic, finally, I believe. Religion for him was a matter of indifference, I suspect, as indeed heretofore it has been for me. Max would have it otherwise.

“I will relate an anecdote about Jews and New Orleans society: it is said by one of the old-line Carnival clubs that no Jew has ever peeked past the foyer; they’re proud of