The Tangled Web Chapter 3 A Sporting Chance
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"So," the old man went on, "tell me, why would Van Gogh's 'Starry night' sell for many, many millions of dollars but a similar painting, by me, of the same technical quality, attract no buyers at any price? With the name covered, let us suppose you could not tell the difference."
"Well," I started, "Vah Gogh is famous, a well known artist ... but an identical painting, with the name covered..."
"There is no logical reason, is there?" he interrupted. "A thing is worth exactly what a buyer and seller agree it is worth. A building can sell for millions or it can sell for one Euro. A Van Gogh painting is worth millions, while a von Wurtenberg painting is worth pennies. Whatever the buyer and seller agree on ... yes?"
"Okay."
"So you could sell your business to me for $100 million. There is no legal impediment. Even if the reason is that you wanted to sell cheaply to foil the plans of a greedy witch. Yes?"
I nodded.
"Even if that business was bringing in many more times that in annual revenues?"
"Yes. It's not publicly traded, so there's no legal reason why it couldn't be done."
"In Liechtenstein the owners of a private company do not have to be known to anyone. Even the names of managing partners are not disclosed. It is all secret, you see?"
I nodded again.
"So, if for example, some mythical person, the Baron of Brazilstein, who was a citizen of Liechtenstein, owned a business, no one would have to know about it. Its name would be registered and that is all. And if the Baron, became ill and died, the Baroness could wind up owning the business, depending on his will of course. If she, after a suitable period of time, decided that her new husband deserved to benefit from that business, no one would know about that either."
He folded his hands across his vest and waited for the light to go on over my head.
Boing! The light thumped on in my noggin.
"All right," I said after thinking it through from a couple of angles, "that could work."
"There is one other thing. It would be additional protection for you – protection from, how is it said, shenanigans – and it would provide, shall we say, a layer of continuity for me."
There's more?
"You are an only child, yes?" I nodded, wondering again where he was headed. "And your mother is in extremis, worse in many ways than my condition." I nodded again. "You father died in an automobile accident in Illinois sixteen years ago?"
"I didn't know that," I said.
"A matter of public record, easily found ... if you'd cared to look ... In any case, I have no children and the Barony of Wurtenberg will default to the Crown at my death. No offspring, you see?"
No, I didn't see, but this was his nickel, so I just nodded.
"I propose to change history," he said and grinned. "I suggest to you that 30 years ago, on a visit to America, I had a secret affair with your mother. You would have been the result of that affair. That would make you a bastard."
I just sat and listened to this fairy tale.
"I suggest that I could adopt you. Acknowledge you as my son and heir. There is none to counter such a claim and the Prince will not contest it as the Barony means nothing to Lichtenstein. No grounds, no lands, no participation in government. A paper figment. It means nothing to anyone except me.
"In 1719, Liechtenstein came into being under the hand of Anton Florian, who was appointed Prince by Charles VI, the Holy Roman Emperor. My direct ancestor, Franz Josef Pelsfan was a second cousin of Prince Alton's wife. He was named Baron von Wurtenberg. All this dry history is by way of saying that this title has been in existence continuously for over 300 years. I would not like it to fall into disuse – to disappear.
"The only change for you would be that you would inherit my holdings directly on my death. Your last name would be changed. You would in effect, get your divorce, and then disappear from the public record. I suggest that you would move to Europe, to Lichtenstein. This would be an unexpected bonus to you, I think, in that your California wife would be further insulated from getting any information about you. She could find you, but why would she look? Your financial future would be assured. Even if she found you and learned that you had money, it could be attributed to the wealth of the Baroness, who would by then be your wife. As a citizen of Liechtenstein no one would ever have to know about you at all – only the things that you wanted the world to know."
Wow. The old guy had some screwy ideas! But it made sense in a non-logical way.
"Uhm ... I am a little stunned by your plan ... Would there be any problems with me, as your adopted son, marrying my step-mother – after a suitable period of mourning?"
"There are no laws that prohibit it. You are not blood-related, after all. I think it would be understandable, given that I am much older than the Baroness, and you are her age. She is young and attractive. You are an energetic man. Some may snicker, but this sort of quasi-incest, if that is what it is, is in keeping with older traditions, where a younger heir would marry his dead father's wife – even if she was his mother! Which is certainly not the case here. In short, I cannot foresee that such a question would even be raised."
"You have certainly given me a lot to think about, Fritz," I said. "May I delay giving you any answer until later this afternoon?"
"Certainly. Take your time. I have thought on this problem for some time. You should consider it as well. I think that is wise," was his reply.
I went out of the study and up the stairs to my room. I needed to walk. I always thought better when I walked. On my way, I passed Katherine on the stairs. She gave me a puzzled look, and I stopped to caress her face softly. "I need to think, Kate. I'm going out for a walk." There were days, in New York, that I did that. We took long walks together, sometimes.
She said nothing but touched my hand, on her cheek.
She went downstairs to her meeting with Fritz, I went upstairs to change into something more comfortable.
In five minutes, down I came and out I went. To walk the narrow streets of Vaduz, Liechtenstein.
I pondered. Was I wealthy? Yes, but ... it was all on paper. That had been my problem – how to get rid of the company wealth without giving a significant portion to the witch of California. What would happen to my company? Not much, I decided. There would always be someone else to play golf with the railroad guys, I guess. The profits would go to the new owner. That would be me. Perhaps the company could go public, sell its shares on the stock market. Then I would be wealthy with money in the bank.
Andrea would be pissed. She thought I was a gazillionaire. If we got divorced she would be a half-gazillionaire. Could I live with the fact that she'd get $50 million? Fuck her. I would stop living in fear of a divorce. I would stop letting my fraudulent marriage be the controlling factor in my life.
I could have a life with Katherine in it. Katherine Flaherty MacKutchen ... err ... von Wurtenberg, I guess. Did I care about the name? My only living relative was ... let's be honest about it ... she had the mind of a golden retriever. She's a lovely woman, and I love her a bunch. She was my life for the first eighteen years, and I have fond memories of that. But I'll still have fond memories of those years. And still have hateful memories of my father. He died and never even left me or mom an insurance policy. Bastard.
I was going to have to clean up my act. Stop hating people. Andrea. Mr. Oakland Raiders Big Cock. My father.
I thought of Katherine more and more. And I thought of her husband, the Baron. An amazingly forgiving man, considering that I was fucking his wife. But he knew of the strange, almost paternal, generational relationship he had with her. Fifty-four year age gap. That wasn't a May-September romance. That was a February to last week of December marriage.
Yes, I could sort out the family issues. Mine, hers. What of her family in Ireland? We'd meet them in time, I suppose. No. I would insist. Did she ever spend any time with them? I didn't know. I'd have to get answers to all that.
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