The Torch Is Passed: A Harding Family Story

By Bill Powers

Andrea Harding is a recent college graduate looking forward to attending Duke Law School when her world is turned upside down by the shooting of her father, Nicholas, and uncle, Michael, in a surprising and puzzling attack. They are the only family she has, aside from her paternal grandmother Dorothy, so when her uncle dies from the attack and her father lays comatose in ICU, it falls to Andrea to not only investigate who would want to kill her father and uncle, but also to oversee Harding Industries, the family company.
When her father's longtime attorney and one of a handful of family friends, Beth Cowling, rushes to help Andrea long distance, the youngest Harding soon finds herself surrounded by a bevy of intriguing new friends and helpers. First to arrive is Beth's own daughter, Riva, acting as Andrea's attorney after Andrea is violently attacked in her father's home, where she grew up, forcing her to kill both would-be assassins.
When Nicholas's on again/off again lover, state prosecutor and gubernatorial hopeful Kerry Marcus, is equally at a loss to name suspects in the Harding family attacks, Riva begins her own investigation into the short list of family friends and colleagues, including Don Marshall, former colleague of Nicholas's at Marshall Pharmaceutical, which Don now runs, and Don's wife Karen. Marshall has a shady past, including an incident at his company that also involved Andrea's father.
She also looks closely at Marcus Ricci, father of Andrea's closest high school friend, Jason. After Jason's death from leukemia, Ricci becomes like a second father to Andrea. Ricci is also widely believed to have ties to the New Jersey mob.
But Beth has another contact she wants involved in the investigation, Deirdre Southington, daughter of Beth's old friend Cordelia Southington. The Southington family has more money than God, as well as, through Deirdre, more contacts in the intriguing world of international espionage. A former NSA agent, Deirdre is mysterious and beautiful in a cold way. An eccentric who travels via private rail car, she is also extraordinarily persuasive, holding a PhD in forensic psychology that she has put to great use in both her work with the NSA and on her own, as a defender of good, rooting out evil doers and ensuring they are brought to her own brand of justice.
Andrea, Riva, and Deirdre all also cast a suspicious eye on the Oakes brothers, Carlton and Jefferson, who run Oakes Industries along with their silent partner and cousin, New Jersey state senator Schuyler Colfax, who also has his eye on the governor's seat. Oakes Industries has recently made an attempt to purchase Harding Industries, a seemingly irrational move that is rebuffed by Nicholas. What no one knows until much later is that the Oakes brothers have entered into a business deal with Russian mobster Viktor Roman, who represents the real party interested in acquiring Harding Industries, a Vor, Russian organized crime unit, with heavy international interests in the energy sector.
Andrea matures quickly as she rapidly learns who she can and cannot trust during her search for the people out to kill her family. Along with her new friends and advocates, she discovers Harding Industries holds a soon to expire option to buy property that could become the source of untold billions from oil reserves, and moves in the nick of time to exercise their right to purchase. But the biggest blow for the Harding family is yet to come—the discovery that Viktor Roman has promised Kerry Marcus the governor's seat in exchange for information about the Hardings, including Nicholas and Michael's whereabouts on the night they are shot.
Ultimately, Andrea chooses to forego law school and becomes her father's new partner in Harding Industries, no doubt with many adventures yet to come.
Masterfully told using a smattering of historical facts along with a soundtrack of classical music masterpieces, this thriller keeps readers on edge until the very end.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Jan 1, 1900
• ISBN: 9781682226797

Bill Powers

William Powers is the author of two critically acclaimed books. His Liberia memoir, Blue Clay People: Seasons on Africa's Fragile Edge (2005) received a Publishers Weekly starred review and Whispering in the Giant's Ear: A Frontline Chronicle from Bolivia's War on Globalization (2006) has been featured on NPR's Fresh Air with Terry Gross and in Newsweek. For over a decade Powers has led development aid and conservation initiatives in Latin America, Africa, and Washington DC. From 2002 to 2004 he managed the socioeconomic components of a project in the Bolivian Amazon that won a prize from Harvard's JFK School of Government. His essays on global issues have appeared in the New York Times, Washington Post, Slate, The Sun, and the International Herald Tribune, and have been syndicated to three hundred newspapers around the world. He has appeared on NPR's Living on Earth, Fresh Air, The Leonard Lopate Show, West Coast Live, Left Jab, and World Vision Report, as well as on local public television stations and Book TV. Powers is an increasingly active speaker at think tanks, policy gatherings, and writers' conferences (he is booked to present at numerous conferences in 2009). He has worked at the World Bank and Conservation International, and holds degrees from Brown and Georgetown. He lives part-time in New York City. His website is www.williampowersbooks.com.

Book preview

Part I

Chapter 1

Andrea Harding had gone to bed late in order to finish packing. Her graduation from Princeton, followed by a party with her family, had been two days ago, and she had put off packing long enough. Today—actually yesterday—she had finished packing and prepping her condominium in order to lease it out for the summer. She planned to spend a couple of weeks with her father, Nicholas Harding, and would then go to Europe for the summer before staring law school at Duke University in Durham, North Carolina that fall.

Andrea heard an incessant noise—Rachmaninoff’s Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini—and coming out of a deep sleep, recognized the ring tone of her iPhone docked in its iHome base.

Now at least semi-awake, Andrea reached out to pull the phone out of the dock. She also glanced at the time displayed on the iHome front screen and wondered who could be calling her at three o’clock in the morning.

Hello? she answered.

Ms. Harding? replied a firm sounding, but unrecognizable male voice.

Yes, who is calling please?

Ms. Harding, are you awake? the unknown, but commanding voice replied.

Andrea was now fully awake and beginning to become alarmed. Calls from strangers at three o’clock in the morning could not be a good thing.

Yes, she replied, but I need to know who is calling.

This is Sergeant Thompson, New Jersey State Police, and Officer Harris. We are downstairs at your front door. It is important that we speak to you in person ma’am. Can you please come down? We have our identification to show you.

Andrea was now awake, confused, and alarmed. Clearly, something very bad had happened. She immediately thought of her father, Nicholas, who lived in Florham Park, New Jersey.

Why can’t you talk over the phone? she asked.

Please, ma’am, it’s very important that we speak in person, and it is urgent.

Andrea jumped out of bed, pulled on jeans, a baggy sweatshirt, and sneakers. Before she left her second floor bedroom, she opened her nightstand drawer, and pushed aside her Walther PPK 9 mm to retrieve her Taser. Her dad and Uncle Michael had taught her that a young girl living alone could not be too careful and needed to be able to protect herself. She also looked out the front window and in fact saw a state police cruiser with alternating blue and red flashing lights on. That reassured her a tad that these guys were real.

Nicholas had purchased Andrea a three-bedroom condominium her freshman year at Princeton, figuring it would be a good investment for her later. Also being a very independent only child, Andrea was not the dorm or roommate type. Nicholas had asked her if she planned to look for a roommate to share the condo and she had just laughed and said, Absolutely not!

Andrea went downstairs to her front door and looked out the peephole. She saw two officers, one a tall male exuding ex-Marine, who she pegged as Sergeant Thompson, and the other a young, very professional looking woman who must have been Officer Harris. Both were immaculate in their New Jersey state trooper uniforms.

I need to see identification, she shouted through the door.

Both officers immediately held up their shields and credentials in small black leather folders for her to see through the peephole.

Andrea removed the safety chain, unlatched the deadbolt, opened the door, and stepped back. She had both hands in her back jeans pockets and one on her Taser, just in case.

Sergeant Thompson and Officer Harris removed their big trooper hats and stepped inside sweeping the room with their eyes, then closing the door behind them. As I said on the phone, ma’am, I’m Sergeant Thompson and this is Officer Harris. We are with the New Jersey State Police.

Officer Harris then started to speak. I am afraid that we have some bad news for you, Ms. Harding. Your father, Nicholas Harding, has been hurt very badly. Is there someplace we can sit?

Harris reached for Andrea’s elbow, but Andrea reflexively took a step back out of her reach. What do you mean my father has been hurt? What the hell is going on here?

Perhaps it would be better if we sat down, Ms. Harding, Officer Harris said.

I do not want to sit. I want to know specifically what the hell is going on. Was there a car accident?

Sergeant Thompson replied, "Ms. Harding, I’m very sorry to have to inform you that late yesterday evening, your father and his brother, Michael, were both shot. They are still alive, but both are in critical condition at Morristown Medical Center.

The Morris County prosecutor, Kerry Marcus, dispatched us here to personally inform you and bring you to the hospital, Harris continued.

Andrea gasped and raised her hands to her mouth in shock and horror. Oh my God! Shot! There must be some mistake.

Andrea now allowed Officer Harris to lead her to a chair in the living room as she started to cry softly.

How badly are they hurt? she asked.

All we know is that they’re in critical condition and in surgery, Harris replied.

Thompson said, Ms. Harding, if you can grab some things, we’ll have you in Morristown in no time.

Harris said, I’ll explain as much as I can during the ride up. Why don’t you go upstairs, get a few things, and we’ll drive you to the hospital, OK? We will talk during the drive.

Andrea, hating herself for letting these strangers see her cry, wiped her tears away. Right. I just need to get my computer and some things.

Do you need some help, ma’am? Harris asked.

No. I won’t be long she replied as she stood to go upstairs.

In her room, Andrea pulled out her everyday leather bag that doubled as a briefcase and large purse. Then she grabbed her wallet, cell phone, iPad, and MacBook laptop and chargers. She figured that anything else she’d get in Morristown, and she had plenty of clothes at her dad’s house in Florham Park. She pulled the Taser out of her back pocket and moved to put it back in the nightstand drawer, but then, as an afterthought, threw it into the bag as well.

The flashing lights outside her window pulled her back to the present. Everything seemed out of sync. A few hours ago, her life was perfect. She had a brand new BS in Economics from Princeton, plans to spend her summer traveling through Europe, and then was off to Duke Law School in the fall.

Now, after talking to the two state troopers, she felt like a meteor had crashed onto her world. The two people she loved more than anything on earth, her father and her Uncle Michael, shot. Who would want to shoot them? They had no enemies that she knew of.

Andrea quickly brushed her teeth, washed her face, tied back her hair, grabbed her bag and went downstairs for what she knew would be a long drive to whatever awaited her in Morristown.

The forty mile drive to Morristown from Princeton takes one and a half hours during rush hour, but at three in the morning in a state police cruiser with lights flashing easily done in under an hour.

Highway 206 usually moved at a crawl, but was nearly empty now, and with the occasional siren to make drivers move over, they made fast time. Once they hit Route 287 North, Sergeant Thompson never dropped under eighty miles per hour.

Officer Harris sat in the back with Andrea. Here’s what we know so far. And keep in mind, it’s still very, very early in the investigation. Last night at approximately 10:30 p.m., your father and his brother were in Michael’s car, an Audi SUV. Michael was driving. They were apparently returning to the Morristown area from Parsippany. They were on a back road. Keep in mind this is supposition at this point. It appears that they were forced off the road and then approached by one, possibly two, gunmen who opened fire. Both men were hit several times. Fortunately, a passerby appears to have interrupted the assault. The gunmen got back in their car and drove off.

She continued, The passersby, a young man and his girlfriend, called 911 and tried to help your father and uncle, who were unconscious when the paramedics arrived. They were transferred to Morristown Hospital’s Trauma Center.

And now? Andrea asked.

They are both still in surgery, Ms. Harding, Harris said. Are you aware of anyone who might want to hurt your father or uncle? Any enemies?

No. None.

What about people they may have butted heads with in business?

No. They do mostly small to midsized real estate deals. I know I’m biased, but they’re both really nice, likable guys, and frankly, boring as hell. I can’t imagine anyone would want to hurt them. Could it have been some sort of mistaken identity thing? Andrea asked.

We’re looking into all possibilities, Ms. Harding.

Please call me Andrea, she said. Then she turned to look out the window as the night scenery flashed by in a blur.

Chapter 2

Andrea sat in the back of the State Police cruiser as it exited Route 287 North and quickly came upon the Morristown Medical Center complex, which was lit up like an NFL football stadium night game. The sprawling hospital complex was one of the largest in northern New Jersey, and had metastasized into an amorphous shape to take over a sizable chunk of Morristown real estate.

Officer Harris pressed a hand to her earpiece when Sergeant Thompson stopped the car at the emergency room door. Come with me, Harris said as she exited the car as soon as it stopped. They’re both still in surgery, but I can take you up to a waiting area.

How long have they been in surgery? How badly are they hurt? Andrea asked as they quickly maneuvered the maze-like hospital complex.

While in a second elevator, Harris turned to Andrea and said, They were both immediately taken to the trauma emergency room, then to surgery, so they have been there for at least three hours. Someone from the medical staff will be out to talk with you shortly. Also, Andrea, there’s press here. We’ll keep them away from you, but just wanted to let you know.

Why are you and Sergeant Thompson here?

I don’t understand, Andrea. What do you mean? asked Harris.

Why is New Jersey State Police involved so soon? Isn’t this a local crime?

The Morris County prosecutor, Kerry Marcus, called us in. I understand she’s friends with your father, Harris said, looking at Andrea.

Yes, they’re good friends, Andrea replied. Actually, she wasn’t quite sure what Nicholas and Kerry were at the moment. She knew they’d been very close at one point, right after the Jack O’Connor fiasco at Marshall Pharmaceutical several years ago. Close enough to talk marriage. But something had happened, she wasn’t sure what, and over the past few years, they’d seemed to orbit each other in some odd part friend, part lover universe. And as Kerry’s political career grew, the orbits seemed to drift further and further apart. As a daughter, Andrea didn’t see most of it as any of her business. But for now, she was glad for Kerry’s help.

Andrea and Officer Harris exited the second elevator onto a private floor they were told was just below the surgical area.

Harris led Andrea to a private waiting room. It was obvious someone had gone out of their way to make the room as comfortable and soothing as possible. There were two large sofas, four leather club chairs, two working desk areas, a widescreen LCD television, a private restroom, and a large window that looked out over the well-lit front of the hospital complex.

They told me this is some kind of VIP waiting area, Harris said.

Why don’t you get settled, said Harris. I’ll let the staff know you’re here. Then she turned to leave.

Andrea slowly walked around the room, looking, but not really seeing anything. Her mind was racing, but not focusing, though she knew there were things she should be doing.

A list, she said to herself. I need a list of people to call.

Oh my God, she thought to herself. Her grandmother, Dorothy…

When Andrea went off to college, Dorothy, who had been living with Nicholas and Andrea, had moved back to her home in Carrington, North Carolina, partly for the warmer weather. The past few years, her health had been in decline. Earlier this year, she’d had a heart attack and had been unable to attend Andrea’s graduation. How was she going to tell her grandmother that her two boys had been shot?

Who should she call first? It slowly dawned on Andrea the sphere of people she was close to other than her father and uncle was very small. What would she do if anything happened to them?

Don’t cry, Andrea. Do. Not. Cry, she told herself over and over again. She took a pad out of her bag and started a list. At the top, she wrote Grandmom, then followed that with:

Don Marshall & his wife Karen

Beth Cowling

Marcus Ricci

Short list, she thought to herself. Andrea and her father had become close friends with Don Marshall and his wife Karen after the Marshall Pharmaceutical adventure almost ten years ago. Don was CEO of Marshall now and Nicholas held a seat on the board of directors.

But she now recalled the reason Don and Karen hadn’t been at her graduation party, they were on an around-the-world cruise; that left Beth Cowling and Marcus Ricci.

Beth still lived primarily in North Carolina, but handled some of the legal matters for Nicholas and Michael at their company, Harding Industries.

Beth was also best of buds with Dorothy and could help there, so that decided who Andrea would call first—Beth Cowling, then her Grandmom, then she’d figure out how to get word to Don and Karen.

Chapter 3

Carlton Oakes was already up at 6:00 a.m., working out on his rowing machine while watching the morning news in the basement gym of his mansion in Harding, New Jersey. Being the vainer of the two Oakes brothers, Carlton was semi-obsessed with his physical appearance, something his brother Jefferson and cousin, Schuyler Colfax, never tired of teasing him about.

Carlton’s cell phone rang three quick burst-tones. Three was for Schuyler, and two was for Jefferson; Carlton Oakes was a man who did not like surprises.

Carlton answered, directly jumping into the conversation with no greetings. What are you doing up this early, or are you just getting in?

I assume you’re working on your manscaping or whatever it is you pretty boys do, Schuyler retorted.

That was almost amusing. What is it, Schuyler?

Truth be told, neither of the two Oakes brothers had much of a sense of humor. Schuyler thought Carlton was too serious, always focusing on his next multimillion dollar deal, and Jefferson was just too downright mean to have a sense of humor. Unfortunately, Schuyler had to put up with both of them because they controlled most of the family trust money.

I just got a call from a good friend in the Morristown Police Department. I don’t think it’s hit the news yet. Nicholas Harding and his brother Michael were both shot late last night.

And? Carlton asked.

And what? Schuyler asked, quickly getting fed up with his cousin’s snooty attitude.

And what is their condition, Schuyler? Are they still alive?

As far as I know, yes. But they’re both at Morristown Medical Center. My source said they were both hurt pretty bad and are in critical condition, maybe still in surgery. My contact says they may die, Carlton.

Even though he had a phone earpiece in and had still been rowing, Carlton now stopped. Interesting, he said. Who the hell would want to shoot those two boy scouts? They’re annoying, but even I wouldn’t go that far. The police have any leads?

None they’re willing to talk about yet, Carlton. Maybe the Harding brothers are not as boy scout-y as they appear. My source said they were both shot up pretty bad. Someone definitely wanted them dead, and maybe they’ll get their wish.

Where did this happen? When? Carlton asked.

Outside of Morristown, up in the Parsippany area, just before midnight. I hear Kerry Marcus is all over this. I also hear that she and Nicholas are pretty close. Apparently, she sent some New Jersey State Police down to Princeton to bring Nicholas’s daughter up here to the Medical Center. Did Nicholas ever give you an answer to your question? Schuyler asked.

You mean about Oakes Industries buying out Harding Industries?

No, about whether he’d go to the prom with you. Of course, about the buyout, genius, Schuyler replied.

He did. He made it very clear that neither he nor his brother had any interest in selling all or a portion of Harding Industries to anyone. I even threw out the number of fifty million dollars, which is more than twice the Harding Industries fair market value, and he didn’t bite, not even a nibble.

Fifty million dollars! Are you insane, Carlton? What if he did bite?

Then, dear cousin, we would negotiate. That is what businessmen do. Don’t get your panties in a twist, Schuyler. I know what I’m doing.

You say so.

Yes, I do say so, Schuyler. Have you told Jefferson of these happenings?

Of course not. You know he hates to be awakened before 8:00 a.m.

Call him. I assume nothing is on your agenda, as usual.

I am a New Jersey state senator, you know, Schuyler said rather indignantly.

Yes, and I’m sure that position is almost as taxing as being president of the United States and probably takes up a couple hours of your valuable time each week.

You know, I don’t care for the attitude, Carlton. You, Jefferson, and I are supposed to be equals.

Whatever, Schuyler. The operative word in that sentence would be ‘supposed.’ Now call Jefferson, and the two of you meet me in my office at 10:00 a.m.

Why?

Opportunity, dear Schuyler. With the two Harding brothers incapacitated or worse, someone has to run Harding Industries. Michael is divorced and has no children. Nicholas is widowed, with one child, his daughter, who may be, shall we say, more susceptible to influence than her father and uncle.

I just don’t get why you and Jefferson have such a hard-on for the Harding brothers and their company; they’re small game. Oakes Brothers Industries is the big dog here.

You don’t need to get it, Schuyler, just make the call. Carlton disconnected the call before Schuyler could reply.

Sanctimonious prick, Schuyler said after he heard the click. He did not look forward to calling and waking up Jefferson; sort of like kicking a rattlesnake to wake it up. At least it could be done over the phone. He didn’t know how Marlene stayed married to Jefferson. Schuyler figured she must have done something God-awful evil in a previous existence to have to put up with Jefferson Oakes in this one.

Chapter 4

Beth Cowling was up early in Carrington, North Carolina, hobbling around her kitchen, making coffee. The back wall of the kitchen was all windows that opened out onto her enclosed porch and looked out over a wide lawn with huge pine trees and in the distance, a small stream-fed pond that was stocked with perch and trout, where she sometimes fished for her dinner. The grass was covered with heavy early dew, and the crickets had begun their morning singsong-chirping chant that sounded like the whirring of a large engine.

Her plan had been to sit on her porch, reading the paper with her pot of coffee. She was doing light work from home while her broken leg healed.

She picked up her ringing cell and noticed it was Andrea Harding calling. That seemed odd. First, it was early in the morning, but mostly because Andrea was definitely not the chatty type.

After getting an update on what had happened in New Jersey from Andrea, Beth sat for a moment collecting her thoughts and planning her next steps. She had asked a flurry of questions, most of which Andrea could not yet answer.

First, Beth had to get to Dorothy and inform her before anyone else did. Dorothy Harding was Nicholas and Michael’s mother, Andrea’s grandmother, and Beth’s best friend. Dorothy, Nicholas, Michael, and Andrea were a very, very close family. When Andrea was ten years old, her mother, Paula, had died in an auto accident, and Dorothy had moved to New Jersey to help Nicholas and Andrea. She had ended up staying until Andrea went off to college and had then returned home to Carrington, a small country town in North Carolina. Dorothy was a retired schoolteacher who had switched careers late in life, to writing children’s books. Her health had been in decline since she had suffered a rather serious heart attack in the last year.

Andrea had said to Beth, Grandmom is going to want to come up here, but I don’t want her making that trip, and I know it’s a big favor, but can you please stay with her for a while?

Of course I can, honey, Beth had replied. "It sounds like the medical side of things are covered, but you need a good lawyer up there with you. With my bum leg, I’m not much good right now. Tell you what. I’ll go over to Dorothy’s now and tell her and then get back to you. Then I’ll work on