Phantom Point

by Gary Inbinder

Table of Contents

Chapter 18: John Merwin

“Have a cigar, old man, and it’s not too early for a whiskey, eh? I’m dying for one myself.” John Merwin began the conversation with a generous offer, which Max gratefully accepted.

Max admired the millionaire’s physical appearance. Although Merwin was well past fifty, his jet-black hair and carefully trimmed moustache showed barely a hint of gray. His Savile Row suit hung perfectly from a lean and muscular frame. A pair of sharp blue eyes demanded respect, while his genuine-seeming smile coupled with an affable manner, engendered loyalty and affection.

They sat in John’s study, face to face in leather armchairs near a row of bookshelves. It was early afternoon; sunshine streamed through partially curtained French doors. John clipped the end of Max’s Havana Claro with a cigar guillotine, and gave him a light with his gold pocket lighter. Max inhaled the rich, mild smoke and followed with a sip of thirty-year old Scotch; the smoky tang of the liquor complemented the cigar. But his enjoyment was diminished by a sense that he was up to his neck in quicksand.

Max wanted to get down to business, but he felt compelled to compliment his host. “This is excellent, Mr. Merwin. You seem to get the best of everything.”

Merwin nodded his agreement, even though he detected a hint of sarcasm in the remark. Not that Max’s backhanded compliment bothered him. On the contrary, he liked having sharp people on his team, provided they remained team players.

Merwin shifted his gaze to a pile of papers on a nearby table as if to remind himself of the subject he wished to discuss. Then he turned his attention back to Max and said, “Eve’s filled me in. She wants to work with you, and I’ve no objection provided there’s no conflict of interest, that is to say there must be no doubt in your mind that I’m the lawful owner of the Phantom Point mineral rights.”

“Can you prove that in court, Mr. Merwin?”

“I will prove it, Mr. Niemand, when I have possession of the supplemental plat map that was stolen from the county recorder’s office.”

“Do you know who stole the map?”

“I’ve a damn good idea, but I need proof.”

“Whom do you suspect?”

“Dan Williams,” he said without hesitation. “What’s more, Williams has thrown in his lot with Duke Placco, and Placco’s plotting a takeover of the Doyle gang.”

If he’s right, Max thought, then Burgess must have been working for Williams. How else would he have gotten the map? “I see. What would happen if the map couldn’t be produced?”

“There’d be litigation with Williams, my sister-in-law Eugenia, and Virginia Moore lined up against me. In addition to the cost and wasted time of a lawsuit, there would be one hell of a stink in the newspapers. Big bad John Merwin versus his poor sister-in-law, little Miss Moore, and the noble crusader, Dan Williams. What a load of crap. It’s extortion, plain and simple. I’ve already offered them a generous settlement, but they want more, much more. I’m not a man who takes that sort of thing lightly.”

“I see. How do Doyle and Placco fit in?”

Merwin took a sip of whiskey before answering. “The local authorities and I have an understanding with Doyle. Vice is always with us, Mr. Niemand, but it can be reasonably contained. Doyle’s a man we can work with. Placco’s a thug. But I needn’t tell you what you already know from experience.”

“I do have unfinished business with Duke Placco.” Max smiled with his fat lip, puffed his cigar and blew a smoke ring.

“Yes indeed,” Merwin said with his affable grin. He paused before adding, “‘Revenge is a dish best served cold,’ Mr. Niemand.”

“I have enough on Placco now to have him arrested for assault, battery and kidnapping.” Max didn’t add that as a sworn peace officer he had been sapped while in the process of making an illegal search.

“Yes, you do. We should discuss that option with Marshal Rivers.”

Max was about to ask, “Why is it just an option?” But considering the circumstances, he thought better of it and said nothing.

Merwin finished his whiskey. He gazed in the direction of a terraced garden beyond the French doors. “It’s a fine day. Walk with me. We can continue talking business, and you’ll get a tour of The Eyrie.”

* * *

The afternoon sun radiated warmth through a turquoise sky, mellowing the brisk ocean breeze. As they walked over the grounds, Max noticed an intricate network of driveways and paths spreading from the landward side of the mansion like the tendrils of a giant vine.

Max had read about the great European Palaces, especially Versailles, all built to impress the visitor with the wealth and power of Empire. The modern American captains of commerce and industry aped the imperial grandeur of foreign potentates.

Max was well acquainted with another side of life. Outside the gates of the great mansions and estates of the New World, millions struggled to make ends meet through boom and bust, bubble and depression. They toiled day and night in mines, slaughterhouses, smoke-belching factories, mills and refineries, or eked out a living on small plots of deeply mortgaged land. He thought that was a mug’s life; he wanted more, much more.

He followed Merwin down a path that led to a two-story red-brick building surmounted by a tall chimney. As they neared their destination, Max sensed a rumbling in the earth accompanied by a metallic whine and the odor of acrid smoke and hot oil. They entered the outbuilding through a heavy, iron door, and the noise and stench grew overwhelming. The place reminded Max of the engine room buried deep in the bowels of an ocean liner.

Merwin led him onto an iron catwalk, stopped near a pair of immense, whirring dynamos, and shouted above the din. “This is our power plant, the nerve center that provides electricity for The Eyrie and all the outbuildings. I employ a chief engineer and three assistants to keep the operation running smoothly.”

Max raised his voice and John cupped his ear in anticipation. “I wondered where you got your power. I hadn’t noticed any power lines.”

Merwin smiled as though he welcomed the question. “It all runs from here through underground cables. We’re completely self-sufficient in that regard. As for poles and power lines, they’d spoil my view.”

On the way to their next stop Max observed, “You must need to bring in an awful lot — fuel, food, water, supplies of all kinds — to keep this place running.”

“Oh yes, it’s quite an operation. We have vast storage areas, including water cisterns, oil tanks, coal bunkers, food storehouses, and so forth, and we must transport replenishments up the county road. Waste disposal, including sewage treatment, is quite a job in itself. A retired Army staff officer who specialized in logistics set up our system and, with a well-trained crew and a little fine-tuning now and then, it almost runs itself.”

“I noticed the recent road improvements hereabouts. I suppose you pulled some strings to get that done?”

Merwin gave Max a sidelong glance, but said nothing.

The garage was their next stop; they caught Karl in his shirtsleeves, enjoying his afternoon tea. The manner in which he snapped to attention at their approach convinced Max that the chauffeur must have served in the military.

Merwin immediately put him at ease. “You’ve already met Karl and know of his skill behind the wheel. Let me add that in addition to being an expert driver, he’s also a first-rate mechanic and a veteran of the South African War. In short, he’s a damn good man on any day, but especially so in a tight corner.”

“Thank you, sir,” Karl said. “Do you want me to show the gentleman around?”

“No, thanks, Karl. Enjoy your break; I’ll give him the quick tour.” The chauffeur expressed his gratitude and returned to his tea, while Merwin showed off his motor cars.

“The Mercedes you’ve already experienced. Some say it’s the best on the road, and that may be so.” He affectionately patted the sparkling fender. “I saw one race near Nice, earlier this year. It won with an average speed of nearly seventy miles per hour.”

Max smiled and expressed his admiration, then turned his attention to a bright red curved-dash Oldsmobile. “I suppose you keep that horseless carriage for your everyday use.”

Merwin laughed. “You’ve guessed right, old man, and the Olds does very well going up and down the road into town. We also have an International Auto Wagon, a motorized improvement on the old buckboard.” He led Max past the automobiles in the direction of the adjacent machine shop, and then stopped at the door. “I forgot to ask. Do you motor?”

“No, I’m afraid I’ve never had the opportunity to learn.”

“Well then, Karl can teach you on the Oldsmobile. Or would you prefer Eve taught you? She’s quite good behind the wheel.”

Max nodded, but did not speak. Merwin seemed to expect something more; he waited a moment, then turned, opened the door and switched on the light.

“Here’s our machine shop. Karl is very creative and, in a pinch, he can make just about anything we need. You’re getting a glimpse of the future: an ever-increasing demand for oil. Internal combustion engines, diesels, and oil-fueled boilers replacing coal for our navy. Now I want to take you to my favorite spot for a scenic view.”

They crossed over the terraced gardens and walked down a gradually declining gravel path beneath a vine-covered pergola. The wind stirred trellised creepers and rustled the rosebushes bordering the path. The sound of waves rushing onto the shoreline amplified as they descended the hanging garden.

They continued on to a white marble balustrade bordering a vantage point from which they could survey miles of craggy coastline fringed by forest and, directly ahead, an endless expanse of ocean gleaming like burnished silver in reflected sunlight. “Well, Mr. Niemand, what do you think of my view?”

“It’s impressive, all right,” Max said.

“Look to your right and you’ll see Phantom Point.”

Gazing toward the point, Max viewed the handful of wooden structures that made up the artists’ colony.

“Mr. Niemand, you’re looking at what could be one of the world’s most productive oil fields. And I have the organization and the means to make the best use of it.” Merwin paused before adding, “I want that map, Mr. Niemand. And I want those damned anarchists and squatters, including Eugenia, off the property.”

Max kept his eyes focused on the point. He thought about Eugenia Merwin, Hugo and the other artists. He had mentioned the map to Marshal Rivers, but he had not admitted to having it in his possession. Did Merwin suspect that Max had the document? Max had no way of knowing. Art Burgess had been killed for that piece of paper, and Max was determined to find the killer. For the moment, he decided to act as though the map were something yet to be found.

He turned to Merwin. “I’m in your debt. Eve told me she paid Roxy Blaine two thousand dollars to get me away from Placco. So, I feel obligated to help you get the map. But I’d like to be clear about a couple of matters before we come to an agreement.”

“If you’re worried about the two thousand, forget it. It was worth it to have you alive and on my side. You get that map for me, and there’s five thousand each for you and Eve. Fair enough?”

Fair enough for something worth tens of millions or more, Max thought. “That’s fine, but I have some priorities that shouldn’t conflict with this job you’re offering me. I’m working with the Los Angeles police on a murder case that’s connected to Phantom Point and the map. I assume Eve told you about that?”

“Yes, she did. We have no conflict of interest in that matter.”

“All right. In addition, I’ve a score to settle with Duke Placco and I want to get Hugo Van Dorn away from your sister-in-law and Phantom Point. Any objections?”

“None at all. Your interests coincide with mine. Shall we shake on it?” Merwin smiled and extended his hand. Max shook hands with the millionaire and closed the deal. Then Merwin looked out to sea. In the distance, a full-rigged black schooner scudded over the waves; taking full advantage of the prevailing winds, it must have been making twelve knots, but from his perspective, it appeared almost motionless, and frozen in time.

“Dan Williams and I used to belong to the yacht club. We raced against each other, several times, and I always came in first.” Merwin paused before turning to Max: “Do you think he still holds it against me?”

Max shrugged and said, “Maybe.”

Merwin nodded and turned his attention back to the boat.

Proceed to Chapter 19...

Copyright © 2022 by Gary Inbinder

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