Montaro Caine A Novel - By Sidney Poitier Page 0,89

Perch fellow, there isn’t much I can offer you in that regard—except that if you do meet him, and I expect you will, you should look him right in the eye and let him see who you really are. He will not be able to see who you are if you do not allow him to; and he will not be able to see you without also letting you see who he is.”

Caine stared at Lund, taking the measure of his elder. “My dad was right; you are a wise old duck,” he said. “I truly thank you for your counsel.”

“It’s been my pleasure,” Lund said. “By the way, can I have a copy of all those questions and answers from my interviews with your dad? I’d love to read all that flattery. I’d just love to stuff some of it right up some folks’ noses.” Lund grinned, chuckled to himself, then erupted into another round of full-bodied laughter. Caine tried to resist but was sucked in again. Eventually, their laughter diminished to broad smiles.

The two men stood. Caine hugged the old man, then handed him the folder of interview transcripts. All things considered, Caine thought, he had gotten what he didn’t know he had come for: a visit with a father he barely knew. The contents of his father’s briefcase had reminded him of words P. L. Caine had often said—that every man must always try to face his troubles, fight his demons, and look both friend and enemy in the eye and, as Tom Lund had said, “let them see who you really are.”

Caine started for the door, stopped, turned, then asked, “One more question?”

Lund smiled and beckoned with both hands for Caine to ask whatever he wished. Caine dug into his shoulder bag, fished out one of his dad’s old notebooks, then searched through it until he came to a particular page. He read aloud: “What each person sees with his or her eyes is instantly transmitted through highly sensitive regions of one’s internal self, across a network of instincts, intuitions, emotions, through countless chambers of our brains, and on into that most private place inside ourselves, the headquarters of our individual existence, the human mind, where a judgment is made as to the importance of what we see, and how what we see might apply to our ongoing struggle to survive as individual human beings.”

“Now here comes the question,” Montaro said. “Was what I just read your thought or my father’s? It isn’t clear in his notes.”

Lund chuckled. Then, his face turned serious. “Listen, I had it all over your father in mathematics. He was good; I was the genius. But he was the one who saw the world as a philosopher as well as a mathematician. As I’ve told you, outside of mathematics, I’m not really good at much else.”

Caine looked long and hard at Lund. “If you ever come to New York, it would be my pleasure to see you again,” he said.

32

EVER SINCE MONTARO CAINE HAD BEEN THRUST PREMATURELY into the world of adult concerns at the age of eight when his father died, he had been conscious of the sensation that he inhabited more than one world at any given time. But in the days that followed his visits to Luther John Doe and Tom Lund, he felt that sensation more profoundly than ever. How many worlds did he actually inhabit? It had become hard for him to keep track. He was Montaro Caine, CEO of Fitzer Corporation, trying to survive a hostile takeover bid that was persisting even as news of the fallout from the Utah mining accident was beginning to recede. He was also Dr. Montaro Caine, the M.I.T.-educated Ph.D., leading an ad hoc team of scientists and medical professionals trying to gain control of two mystery coins that could revolutionize industry, perhaps even prevent disasters such as the one that had taken place in Utah.

He was Montaro Caine of Kansas City and he was Montaro Caine of Westport, Connecticut; he was Montaro Caine of The Carlyle Hotel, and at the same time, he was Montaro Caine, citizen of planet Earth, whose citizens would have to find a new home someday when their sun began to die. And, as Montaro led a meeting in the living room of his Carlyle apartment, where he debriefed Drs. Howard and Elsen Mozelle, Dr. Michael Chasman, and Anna Hilburn about all he had learned from Tom Lund and Luther John Doe, he was soon