Wired (8 page)

“Graham? Is that you?” the deep, resonant voice asked.

“Frank?”

“Graham, a few moments ago I heard what happened to your mother. Graham, this tragedy breaks my heart.”

Graham pushed himself up in the bed. “Frank, I'm sorry to sound so blurry. We didn't get much sleep last night and I'm afraid
I'm not up to my usual self.”

“Graham, don't give it a thought. I wanted you to know that all of the resources of the city of Chicago are at your family's
disposal. I'll tell the police commissioner to pull out the stops on this case. I'm demanding they find the lowlife scum who
had done this reprehensible act.”

“Thank you, mayor. Our entire family appreciates your concern.”

“What can we do for you personally, Graham?”

“I won't be at the office today. I hope that's not a problem”

“Well,” the mayor said hesitantly, “we have hard time making everything work right when you aren't here, but everyone certainly
understands. Take as much time as you need.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Graham, what about your security system? You know we have your electronic devices hooked up with our central network for
ultra-security. I would have expected an alarm to have gone off down here where our police network operates.”

“Mom had the garage door open and that would have shut the system down. As best we could tell, the system was turned off in
the morning and never flipped back on. We simply weren't operational.”

“I see,” the mayor said. “One simply can't be too careful.”

“How sadly true,” Graham said. “The times are tough and dangerous. We're paying the price.”

“Yes,” Bridges agreed. “Crime is everywhere. Well, remember our best thoughts are with you and call me if I can be of any
help. Share my condolences with Jackie.”

“I will, Frank.” Graham hung up the phone and turned to his wife. Jackie's eyes were open, staring at the ceiling. “That was
the mayor, expressing his condolences.”

“Yes. I heard.”

Graham didn't say anything more for five minutes. He lay quietly with his eyes closed. George stirred next to him. The child
felt small and still.

“I think we need to get up.” Jackie finally broke the silence. “The rest of the children will be downstairs.”

“yes,” Graham eventually said and turned the blanket back, letting his feet drop on the floor. “Last night was terrible. Beyond
terrible.”

“The sky looked so strange,” Jackie said. “Bizarre… the red glow. I simply don't know how to describe it.”

Graham stood up. “I'm not sure if I can go on today, Jackie.”

“We have to.” Jackie looked out the window. “We have to,” she repeated.

Graham didn't answer, but walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower. The water splattered against the door. Graham
leaned against the glass, pressing his head against the pane and listening to the pounding of the water. The shower sounded
certain and predictable. If there was anything he needed, it was something certain and predictable.

When Graham came downstairs, Matthew was sitting at the kitchen table with George next to him. George had on his bathrobe
and silently stared at the tabletop. He had slipped into the chair at the end of the long table.

“Good morning, boys,” Graham said.

“Good morning, Dad,” Matt answered.

Graham leaned forward and put his hand on little George's shoulder. “Good morning, son.”

George looked up. His eyes weren't as blank as they had been last night, but he still looked disengaged. For a moment he stared
at his father as if waiting for the right words to come out by themselves. “Yes,” he finally said.

Graham sighed. “Good. Good. Can you talk to me, George?”

George frowned and this eyes teared up. “I… I… think so.”

“Fine.” Graham patted him on the hand. “I'm glad to hear it.”

“Dad,” Matt said. “What are we going to do?”

Graham ran his hand through his hair. “We have to take it one step at a time today, son. We have to be tough.”

Mary came in leading Jeff by the hand. She sat down and put Jeff next to her. Mary had on an old sweatshirt and Jeff was still
wearing his pajamas. Jackie followed them with her wet hair wrapped in a towel. She looked plain, drawn, and worn.

“Grammy always fixed breakfast,” Mary said and sniffed. “Now we have to do it for ourselves.”

Nobody said anything.

Finally Matthew asked, “All the churches I know about are empty and closed. How can we have a service for Grammy?”

Graham looked at Jackie. “That's the last problem I've thought about, but Matthew has a point. Apparently most churches are
locked up.”

Jackie didn't answer. Her eyes looked almost as empty as George's did.

“I mean,” Matt muttered, “I don't know… after all…” He stopped.

“Son, the funeral homes have rooms, auditoriums,” Graham said. “I'm sure we can work out something with them.”

The family sat at the table, staring into space with each person thinking about their own special set of memories. No one
said anything for several minutes.

“I never thought about death.” Matthew finally broke the silence. “In fact, other than Grandfather Albert's service, I've
never even been to a funeral. Of course, I was young then. I didn't even know what to think about someone dying.”

Jackie nodded. “My parents died before you children were born. They were killed in a car wreck.” She shook her head and covered
her eyes. “It was a terrible, terrible experience. I guess we avoided talking about death after the accident.” Jackie looked
at Matthew. “We never talked about the subject with you children.”

“It's been like a topic that didn't exist,” Matthew said. “Always unmentioned. I don't know anybody at college who ever brought
up the issue. Death simply hasn't been in any of our discussions.” He cleared his throat. “But I need to know what it means
when someone dies.”

Silence settled over the kitchen again.

“George,” Graham said, “maybe you would like to go in the other room?”

George looked up slowly. He shook his head.

“You want to stay with us?” Jackie asked.

George nodded very slightly.

“Matthew, I don't know how to respond,” Graham said. “No one ever sat down and gave me any input on this subject and maybe
I avoided thinking about it.” He gestured aimlessly. “I guess that I assumed people's lives just stopped. Ended. You know…
they were gone.”

“Grammy's
gone
?” Matthew protested. “
Only gone
? I can't accept that idea. My precious grandmother can't simply have disappeared like a dinosaur vanishing. I simply can't
handle that.”

“Matthew, we don't have to decide this issue this morning,” Jackie pleaded. “We're trying to keep from going over the edge
ourselves, son. It's way too early to think about a philosophical problem.”

Matthew shook his head. “I don't buy it! I know we have a lot of problems to deal with and I'm sure you and Dad have to make
hard decisions, but I've got to know what's happened to my grandmother. She was good to the core and she loved us. Grammy
did everything she could to teach us how to be decent, respectful people. I can't accept the idea that her life stopped like
a car running out of gas.” He pointed his finger in rapid staccato motions. “I need a better explanation.”

Graham nodded. “I understand, Matt. The problem is that I don't have anything better to tell you at this moment. I'm sorry.
Our family didn't pay any attention to religious matters. Maybe we should have, but your mother and I simply aren't prepared
to answer your questions. That's the best we can say.”

Matthew pushed back from the table and scowled.

“Son, your father is not trying to be difficult. He's telling you the truth.”

“Okay.” Matthew rubbed his chin and crossed his arms over his chest. “I'll accept what you're saying for right now, but I
want you to know that I'm not going to let this matter die. I intend to find out what happens when a person's heart quits
beating. I'm sure somebody at the university, at the funeral home, someone out there somewhere has some insight and I'm going
to find it.”

“Sure, Matthew,” Graham said. “I want you to find out, but right now I can't say much of anything. I'm drained. That's the
best I can do.”

Jackie reached over and took George's hand. “The police will probably come back this morning. I know they will want to talk
with you, son. Do you think you'll be able to talk to the officers?”

Tears started to roll down George's cheeks. He looked blankly at this mother.

“That's okay, son,” Graham insisted. “No one's going to make any of us do more than we can.”

“We must all get dressed,” Jackie said. “We will have to go to the funeral home first thing today.” She looked around the
table at each of the forlorn children. “Of course, no one has to go. If you want to stay here, you can.”

George slowly lowered his head and looked at the floor. He made a slow shaking motion.

“You don't want to go?” Jackie asked.

“No, he doesn't,” Mary said.

George kept looking at the floor, saying nothing.

“Okay,” Graham said, “we'll leave the three younger children at home.”

Mary looked relieved.

M
ATTHEW OPENED THE DOOR
for Graham and Jackie to walk into Cassoday's Funeral Home. The foyer was orderly, clean to the point of smelling sterile,
and extremely quiet.

“you think it was okay to leave the children at home with Mary?” Jackie asked.

“It's all we could do,” Graham answered, “but I know she'll take care of them properly. She'll certainly keep the doors locked
and the security alarm on.”

“Sure,” Matt added. “George and Jeff didn't need to be down here with us; besides, they're too stressed to give her any trouble.”

A woman who looked to be in her sixties stepped out of an office at the far end of the foyer. Wearing a dark blue suit, she
looked like a person who officiated at funerals. With quick, certain steps she walked toward the family.

“You must be the Pecks.” She flashed an ingratiating smile.

“Yes. I'm Graham Peck and this is my wife Jackie and our son Matt.”

“Welcome to Cassoday's.” The woman extended her hand in a slightly affected way. “I'm Mrs. Hutchinson.” She pointed toward
her office. “Please come back and sit down. Mr. Cassoday and our Services Counselor will be with you shortly.”

Mrs. Hutchinson led the Pecks into a large office situated behind hers. Original oil paints hung on the walls and the furniture
looked expensive, but Cassoday's office had the same sterile smell as the foyer.

“I'll close the door while you wait,” Mrs. Hutchinson said. Her professional smile never flickered or shifted.

Graham sat down in a large leather-covered chair and picked up a newspaper. “She's about as warm as yesterday's toast.” He
glanced at the headlines and quickly scanned the side columns. “This isn't a good time to talk about the subject, but the
morning paper says that Borden Carson and his Royal Arab Petroleum Company are contemplating hitting the USA with an increase
in the cost of oil. Just what I suspected!”

“What do you mean, Dad?”

“I don't trust Carson and his company. They're trying to control the world through the price of oil.”

“Yeah, but the Russians have all the oil we can buy,” Matt answered. “In one of my economics classes I read about production
at the arctic oil terminal in Varandey where one of Russia's biggest oil companies sent 200,000 barrels of crude oil to Houston
in one month. Conoco Oil Company has a big production outlet at the Ardalin Oil Fields as well.”

“Yes,” Graham said. “But Carson's maneuvers are driving the prices up for everyone and who knows what he's trying to work
out with the Russians behind closed doors.”

“I thought Mayor Bridges was an ally of Carson? At least that's what I picked up at the University.”

“Bridges and I disagree on that call, son. The mayor trusts him far more than I do.”

Matthew rubbed his chin. “I know this isn't the right time to discuss an issue like international petroleum, but how did Carson
get to the position where he controlled so much oil?”

“The problem started several decades ago, Matt. You've probably read about several Middle Eastern wars in Iraq and Iran not
long after the turn of the century. Of course, Saudi Arabia got blasted in the backlash of a couple of those nuclear exchanges
and their oil fields were seriously disrupted. I've never had anyone tell me exactly where Borden Camber Carson came from,
but he started out in business restoring damaged oil wells.”

“you know anything about his nationality?” Matthew said.

Graham shook his head. “His background is something of a mystery. I don't know why the press is sitting on the story, but
no one seems to have printed any of the inside details yet.”

“Interesting,” Matt continued, “Carson's position seems to be getting stronger every day.”

“Yeah. He had an uncanny ability to unite oil companies and come out on top in each of those mergers. Before long Royal Arab
Petroleum had the capacity to buy out other producers. One thing led to another and Carson emerged as the top dog. He knew
how to play his cards.”

“I guess he did,” Matthew said. “Sounds like he's still trying to put his pincers into the Midwest.”

“That's my fear,” Carson said, “and I think that…”

The office door opened and a large heavyset man walked in with a small thin man behind him. The pudgy neck of the first man
rolled over his white collar and his puffy cheeks had an unusually bright red tint. “Thank you for coming so promptly, folks.”
He flashed a smile that slightly resembled Mrs. Hutchinson's grin. “I'm Joseph Cassoday and I'm pleased to assist you. This
is our service counselor, Eric Jackson. We won't have your mother ready until this afternoon, but we are moving right along.”
He dropped down in the large desk chair behind his long mahogany desk and pulled out a price list from the righthand drawer.
“Do you have any questions before we start?”

“I do,” Matthew said.