The Testament Read Free Page A

interest in Spin Computer?”
    “Yes,” I answer slowly, trying to place Spin Computer in my corporate jungle.
    “How much do you own?”
    “Eighty percent.”
    “And Spin Computer is a public company?”
    “That’s right.”
    Theishen fiddles with a pile of official-looking documents, and I can see from here that he has the company’s annual report and quarterly statements, things any semiliterate college student could obtain. “When did you purchase Spin?” he asks.
    “About four years ago.”
    “How much did you pay?”
    “Twenty bucks a share, a total of three hundred million.” I want to answer these questions more slowly, but I can’t help myself. I stare holes through Theishen, anxious for the next one.
    “And what’s it worth now?” he asks.
    “Well, it closed yesterday at forty-three and a half, down a point. The stock has split twice since I bought it, so the investment is now worth around eight-fifty.”
    “Eight hundred and fifty million?”
    “That’s correct.”
    The examination is basically over at this point. If my mental capacity can comprehend yesterday’s closing stock prices, then my adversaries are certainly satisfied. I can almost see their goofy smiles. I can almost hear their muted hoorahs. Atta boy, Troy. Give ’em hell.
    Zadel wants history. It’s an effort to test the bounds of my memory. “Mr. Phelan, where were you born?”
    “Montclair, New Jersey.”
    “When?”
    “May 12, 1918.”
    “What was your mother’s maiden name?”
    “Shaw.”
    “When did she die?”
    “Two days before Pearl Harbor.”
    “And your father?”
    “What about him?”
    “When did he die?”
    “I don’t know. He disappeared when I was a kid.”
    Zadel looks at Flowe, who’s got questions packed together on a notepad. Flowe asks, “Who is your youngest daughter?”
    “Which family?”
    “Uh, the first one.”
    “That would be Mary Ross.”
    “Right—”
    “Of course it’s right.”
    “Where did she go to college?”
    “Tulane, in New Orleans.”
    “What did she study?”
    “Something medieval. Then she married badly, like the rest of them. I guess they inherited that talent from me.” I can see them stiffen and bristle. And I can almost see the lawyers and the currentlive-ins and/or spouses hide little smiles because no one can argue the fact that I did indeed marry badly.
    And I reproduced even more miserably.
    Flowe is suddenly finished for this round. Theishen is enamored with the money. He asks, “Do you own a controlling interest in MountainCom?”
    “Yes, I’m sure it’s right there in your stack of paperwork. It’s a public company.”
    “What was your initial investment?”
    “Around eighteen a share, for ten million shares.”
    “And now it—”
    “It closed yesterday at twenty-one a share. A swap and a split in the past six years and the holding is now worth about four hundred million. Does that answer your question?”
    “Yes, I believe it does. How many public companies do you control?”
    “Five.”
    Flowe glances at Zadel, and I’m wondering how much longer this will take. I’m suddenly tired.
    “Any more questions?” Stafford asks. We are not going to press them because we want them completely satisfied.
    Zadel asks, “Do you intend to sign a new will today?”
    “Yes, that is my intent.”
    “Is that the will lying on the table there before you?”
    “It is.”
    “Does that will give a substantial portion of your assets to your children?”
    “It does.”
    “Are you prepared to sign the will at this time?”
    “I am.”
    Zadel carefully places his pen on the table, folds his hands thoughtfully, and looks at Stafford. “In my opinion, Mr. Phelan has sufficient testamentary capacity at this time to dispose of hisassets.” He pronounces this with great weight, as if my performance had them hanging in limbo.
    The other two are quick to rush in. “I have no doubt as to the soundness of his mind,” Flowe says to Stafford. “He seems