Page 5 of Farkas: Gothika

Since Vincent seemed to expect an answer, Lee nodded. “I guess it does.” He’d begun his life as the child of immigrants with limited education, few skills beyond farming, and very little money. And now here he was with a law degree from Stanford and a promising career with one of LA’s most prestigious legal firms. So yes, he’d found wonderful opportunities. But not without sacrifice.

Vincent steepled his hands. He had long, delicate fingers, like an artist or pianist, but his nails were shockingly sharp. Not claws, but… they were strange. As was his demeanor, which seemed far too old-fashioned for such a young man. And the way his eyes appeared to glow as if lit from within by small red flames. Well, nearly everything about him was odd. And yet distressingly compelling.

He smiled slyly, almost as if he could read Lee’s thoughts.

“My family bought a large tract of property here in California, where we could live in our accustomed solitude, and we had this home built to resemble our ancestral manor. Silly, you might think, but perhaps you also understand that a man might search for certain comforts and familiarities when he is thrust into a new life. We were able to import many of our possessions as well.” He shrugged. “Most of them are quite valuable. We have been collecting them for… many generations.”

Lee’s parents had come to America with one suitcase apiece and a few dollars, along with a bit of jewelry that had once belonged to his mother’s grandmother. They also had three children in tow, aside from the one in Mrs. Hasenkamp’s belly. They managed to rent a tumbledown house in a nowhere town, but only because the house was owned by a cousin. They rented the farmland from him too and eked out a living by working themselves and their children to exhaustion.

Lee’s family had collected nothing but resentments and regrets.

“Here in California,” Vincent said, “we have engaged in new business ventures of many kinds. We have, in our own quiet way, amassed a small empire. But now we are faced with a problem. Well, two problems to be more precise, but they are entwined.”

“And that’s why you brought me here?”

Vincent nodded. “Yes. Because these obstacles are legal in nature, and we have been informed by Mr. Graves that you are an intelligent and industrious young man who is skilled at finding his way around some of the bothersome obstacles.”

While Lee wasn’t entirely pleased at the implication that he didn’t always adhere strictly to moral principles, he couldn’t argue against its accuracy. His job with the firm had required him to do some tasks that pushed the boundaries of legality. But as the partners liked to remind him, sometimes the law was inconvenient or misguided, and it took courage to achieve worthwhile results. Anyway, Lee was also flattered by the praise Vincent had just given him. And at the way Vincent’s gaze caressed him.

“What are the problems?” Lee asked.

“At their core, they are simple. All of our possessions are in my grandfather’s name. Laszlo Farkas, yes? But he is growing elderly, and so we need to transfer ownership of everything to me. Quietly but securely.”

Lee relaxed a little. This was something he could manage, and it wouldn’t grate against whatever conscience he had. “And with minimal tax repercussions too?”

“Precisely.”

“All right. I’ll need to start with a complete audit of everything—”

“Yes, yes, of course. But there is another problem, remember?”

“What’s that?”

Vincent grinned. “I do not exist.”

* * *

It took drinking the last of the wine before Vincent elaborated on his shocking statement. There had been no formal records made of his birth, and what paperwork did exist had been lost somewhere between their move and the war. He had some identity documents now, but they were, as he put it, “not entirely indisputable.” Which Lee took to mean that they were forged.

“So what you’re saying, Vincent, is that before I can transfer title to your name, I need to make your name legitimate. I need to establish your legal identity.”

“Just so.”

Lee frowned. “That’s… a big task. It could take a long time.” He thought about the three days’ worth of clothing Mr. Graves had told him to pack.

“Do not worry, my friend. I will make sure that you remain quite comfortable during your stay and that your needs are all met.” Did he stress the word needs a little? Maybe that was just his accent.

“I could do this work back at the office.”

“Ah, but all of the paperwork is here, and I do not wish to transport it. And this way you will have no interruptions, no other demands on your attention.”

Lee could have complained about the loss of his free time, but maybe Vincent already knew that he didn’t have any, that he devoted nearly all of his waking hours to his work. And when it came to that, what did it matter whether he did that work in his sterile office in downtown LA or here, in the weird and creepy mansion in the mountains? Well, Lee had an inkling that it mattered a great deal, but he didn’t say so.

“I’ll need to discuss this with your grandfather too. There will be papers for him to sign.”

“Of course. All in due time. But now the hour is late and I believe you must be very tired. You may adjourn to your bed now. Tomorrow I have… matters to attend to. But I will make sure you receive meals, and we will meet again at dinnertime to begin our work.”

This was not ideal. Lee would have much preferred to get started right away. But he’d dealt with rich people before, and he knew they did things on their own schedule. Their employees’ preferences were irrelevant. Now, for all intents and purposes, Lee was Vincent’s employee.

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