The King of Hearts

The King of Hearts: Gordon Lewis

Gordon strode into the building, ignoring the ineffective security, and punched the elevator button. He didn’t come here often; the last time was five years ago, but he knew his way to the offices of Macmillan and Smith. The receptionist was expecting him. She greeted him by name and ushered him immediately into the conference room.

“My condolences on your loss, sir.”

Gordon had seen the obituary in yesterday’s Financial Times. His father, respected businessman and CEO, had died unexpectedly at his home outside of Johannesburg. 

Three men sat behind the shiny wooden table in the spacious conference room. Large windows opened on the bay. Gordon watched a seagull wheel through the air and studied the three men out of the corner of his eye. Two he recognized only from photos in the newspaper; one was his own lawyer.

“Mr. Lewis, we have a document from your father. We are here to formally request your return to Johannesburg to attend your father’s memorial and take over leadership of his business. We, of course, are prepared to assist you in every means possible,” the tall man said, his accent a careful mix of his native land and the halls of Oxford.

“I am of some use now that he is dead.”

“Gordon,” Peter Wainwright said. He was chief financial officer and Gordon’s father’s closest friend. “You have a responsibility to your family.”

“Do not speak to me of responsibility. I will come to the memorial service, and my partner will be in attendance. You are aware of what I am?”

The man shifted under Gordon’s steady gaze. “I assume you are speaking of your private life. My interest is protecting the business.”

“I will protect the business, but it will be on my own terms, gentlemen. Landon and I can be ready for departure in the morning.”

“Mr. Lewis--” Gordon’s lawyer started.

“No, I am who I am. Landon goes with me, or I do not go. It is your choice.”