Authors: Harold Robbins
“You should have fun,” he said. “I hear he has a fabulous place there.”
“It won’t be just fun. We’re planning an album and a video together. He has a number of songs that we can work on,” she said.
“That makes it even better,” he said. “Rainbeau is signed to our label.”
She laughed. “But I’m not. You’ll have to deal with my people.”
“Smartass.” He chuckled. “But I’m not worried about it. We’ll work it out.”
“I’m sure you will,” she said flatly. “Especially after all we’ve been through together.”
“Bitch.” He laughed.
“’Bye, baby,” she said and hung up.
Daniel looked at Neal. “That was Thyme,” he explained. “Everything is okay with her. We’ll not have any trouble. The police have already spoken to her.”
“She didn’t tell them that you arranged the date?” Neal was still anxious.
“She’s a smart bitch,” Daniel answered. “Always thinking, but a little blackmail goes a long way.”
Neal smiled. “I feel better already. It could have been very embarrassing for us.” He was still standing in front of the desk. “Congratulations, Daniel. You’ve made it. I don’t know whether to kiss you or shake your hand.”
Daniel laughed. “For now, you can shake my hand. I don’t know who will be popping into the office.”
“The power trip gave me a hard-on that won’t quit,” Neal said, rubbing his crotch.
Daniel stared at the bulge in Neal’s pants. His mouth went dry. “Take it out,” he said hoarsely. “I want to see it.”
Neal quickly opened the zipper and his erect penis sprang, swollen, before him. Without touching himself, he met Daniel’s eyes. “Say the word,” he whispered, “and I’ll come all over your desk.”
Daniel took a deep breath, his face flushed. “Put it away,” he said nervously. “This is no time to get crazy.”
“But I love you,” Neal said.
“Wait until we get home,” Daniel said. “Right now, we have work to do.”
Quickly Neal straightened his clothes and stretched back into the chair in front of Daniel’s desk. “Okay.” He smiled. “I’m ready.”
“Is the presentation we prepared for Jarvis about changes in the company still at the printer’s?”
“Yes.”
“Get all the papers back and take them home. Make sure you have all of them and then put all except two into the shredder. Any asshole who might get a copy could blow us out of the water.”
“You mean all the work we put into it goes down the toilet?” Neal asked.
“Not really,” Daniel said. “We’ll simply rewrite it from Shepherd’s point of view instead of Jarvis’s. The program is just as good for one as the other.”
“But Jarvis had the money to carry it off. How do we know how much Shepherd has left?”
“I figure that he has the money,” Daniel said. “He was too quick to move in during the meeting.”
Neal stared at him. “Do you think Shepherd had anything to do with Jarvis’s death?”
“I don’t think so,” Daniel answered. “I had a feeling that Bradley was ready to take Jarvis on at the meeting. The rest was coincidental.” He rose from behind his desk. “Now get on your horse, you can make the printer before he closes at eight o’clock.”
He waited until Neal had closed the door behind him; then he asked his secretary to find Siddely for him. He was located in Jarvis’s office, and Daniel reached him there by phone. “Sherman,” he said, “I think we have to talk.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” Sherman answered. “I’ll be right down to your office.”
The attorney seemed to have regained his composure after the shock of the afternoon. He held his hand out to Daniel. “Congratulations,” he said effusively. “I am glad that Bradley has made the right choice.”
“Thanks, Sherman.” Daniel gestured toward a chair. “We still have some problems. The most important is if there will be any flap from Jarvis’s company or heirs.”
Sherman shook his head. “I’ve already been trying to get in touch with Mrs. Jarvis, but she’s traveling in South America, and nobody seems to know exactly where she is.”
“That doesn’t make me feel any better,” Daniel said.
“But there is another problem,” Sherman added. “Jarvis had two hundred million of his own, but it wasn’t enough, so he took an under-the-table partner to advance him another two hundred million to begin the deal with Bradley. He was also expecting another four hundred million to buy Bradley out. I don’t know where he was going to get that money.”
“That’s a lot of money. How could he hide it?” Daniel said.
Sherman looked at him. “Jarvis was a strange man. He kept things to himself. Even I don’t know who he was doing business with for that money.”
“Dirty money,” Daniel said flatly.
“Maybe,” Sherman said, holding up his hands. “But we don’t know.”
They sat silently for a moment; then Daniel said, “All I can think is that we have to sit tight.” He reached for his first cigarette in six months. Deeply he sucked in the smoke, then coughed and choked. Quickly he put it out. “Shit,” he said. He looked across the desk at Sherman. “Do you think that Bradley might have been tied into it?”
“I don’t think so,” Sherman said. “Bradley was tapped out.”
“Bradley seemed very sure of himself. Even before the explosion,” Daniel said quietly. “But there are two things I still don’t understand. Why were Judge Gitlin and Jed Stevens meeting with him?”
“Judge Gitlin is Bradley’s attorney from Oklahoma. Jed Stevens I know nothing about.”
“I know about Stevens. He’s the CEO of General Avionics Leasing Corporation,” Daniel said. “He must be sitting on top of at least six billion. He leases commercial airplanes to half the airlines in the world.”
“Do you think Bradley brought him in?”
“Anything’s possible,” Daniel said. “That’s just another thing we have to find out.”
8
BRADLEY SANK INTO
the oversized chair behind his desk and looked across at Judge Gitlin and Jed, who sat in comfortable chairs opposite him. He pulled the white handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiped the sweat from his brow. “Jesus,” he said. “Jesus.”
Judge Gitlin looked at him. “We could use another drink.”
“Sherry—” Bradley spoke into his intercom—“the judge will have a shot of CC straight up. I’ll have a Glenmorangie on the rocks.” He turned to Jed. “And what will be your pleasure?”
“Coffee, black, with sugar,” Jed answered.
A moment later Sherry came into the office and placed the drinks before them.
“Hold all calls,” Bradley said, as she turned to leave. She nodded and closed the door behind her.
Bradley lifted his drink. “Cheers.”
The judge nodded and swallowed half his drink. Bradley spoke into the intercom again. “I forgot, Sherry,” he said. “The judge never takes one shot, he needs the bottle.”
Sherry returned quickly with the bottle of Canadian Club, placed it on the desk in front of Judge Gitlin, then left again.
Bradley sat there silently for a moment, then said to Jed, “I’m puzzled. You came in out of left field. What brought you into this game?”
“I was at your party last night,” Jed answered.
“So were almost five hundred others. But none of them came in with eighty-five million dollars.”
“That’s another thing I’m curious about,” Judge Gitlin said. “It’s the exact amount that was needed to keep Bradley in the company. How did you know about that?”
Jed smiled. “You have friends. I have friends. Friends talk. And I’m a gambler.”
“That’s high stakes,” the judge said.
“You don’t win with nickel bets,” Jed said.
“What do you expect to get out of it?” Brad asked.
“I don’t know yet,” Jed answered. “That’s what we have to talk about.”
“Even with the eighty-five behind me, it would still have been tough with Jarvis in the deal. But you came in with the money before anything happened to him,” Bradley said. “I still don’t know why.”
Jed smiled. “Maybe I like your style. You throw a great party.”
The judge refilled his glass. “You’re a young man,” he said. “Where do you get that kind of money?”
“I’m holding sixty percent of the stock of a company that I started: General Avionics Leasing Corporation, which has six billion in assets.” Jed looked at them. “So, gentlemen, you can see I can afford the game. Now, you just relax, I’m not going to take anything away from you. Maybe we’ll be lucky and make a lot of money together.”
Bradley turned to the judge. “What do you think?”
“You have no choice,” the old man said. “Besides, he reminds me of you. You’re both crazy.”
“Jarvis’s stake in this still worries me, now that his estate still has an option of forty percent of Millennium’s stock. How do we know what they’ll do?” Bradley said.
The judge spoke in a cold steely voice: “You got yourself into that problem. You’ll have to get yourself out of it.”
Jed turned to the judge. “Brad will work his way out of it,” he said. “I have faith.”
“Thank you,” Bradley said. “But we’ll have to talk some more after we have more facts in hand.”
“We will,” Jed said. “But right now I have to get back to my office.” He rose to his feet and placed several business cards on the desk in front of Bradley. “You call me or I’ll call you. We’ll set up some proper meetings. Lawyers, accountants, the works.”
Bradley looked up at him. “But meanwhile don’t you want a note for the eighty-five?”
Jed met his eyes. “Do you have the money to cover it?”
“No,” Bradley said.
“Then what difference will it make?” Jed smiled. “We’ll work it all out later.” He shook Bradley’s hand, then the judge’s. “Gentlemen, until later,” he said and left the office.
Judge Gitlin stared at the closed door. He turned to Bradley. “We better get a line on that boy. He’s too relaxed for my taste. Also, it’s hard to trust a man who don’t drink.”
Bradley shook his head. He called Sherry on the intercom. “Get me McManus at the Bank of America.” He nodded to the judge. “You met McManus at the directors’ meeting. He’s been on our board since I got into Millennium. He’ll check Stevens out for us.”
“When can we go home?” the judge said. “Don’t forget I’m an old man. I need some rest.”
Bradley laughed. “Then I’ll tell Charlene to cancel your dinner date.”
“A dinner date?” the judge exclaimed. “With who?”
“Zsa Zsa Gabor,” Bradley answered. “She likes older men.”
“I don’t want to change Charlene’s plans,” the judge said quickly. “I’ll be okay for dinner.”
* * *
JED TURNED INTO
the parking garage on the street level of the ten-story green-mirrored glass building on Century Boulevard opposite the air-freight area at LAX. He left his Chevy Blazer with the valet and walked toward the elevators. He pressed the button for the seventh floor, which would take him to his office.
Kim Latimer, the attractive VP of Corporate Relations, and Jim Handley, the always worried-looking VP and Treasurer of G.A.L.C., were always waiting at the elevator door. It was crazy, but he could never get into his office without one or the other waiting at the elevator door. He was sure that they had paid off the parking valet.
“You’ve had a busy day,” Kim said.
“Kind of,” he answered as he started toward his office.
“What did you do with eighty-five million?” Jim asked. “It left us short on the payment to Boeing.”
“It’s safe,” he said. “Pay Boeing out of the Rental Reserve Account.”
They followed him into his office. He looked down at the messages on his desk. He shook his head. Uncle Rocco was always the same. He never left any messages.
Handley looked at him. “What happened to Jarvis?”
“He blew his top,” he answered wryly.
“Not funny,” the treasurer said. “Does it affect us?”
“I don’t think so,” Jed said. “I’m dealing with Bradley.”
“How do we fit into this?” Jim asked.
Jed shrugged his shoulders. “I’m not quite sure. I’m playing this one personally. I’ll repay the company from my own account tomorrow.”
“Okay,” Jim said. “I just want to protect you and us.”
“We’ll be okay,” Jed said. “Thanks.”
Jim left the office. Kim stood in front of his desk. “Are you all right?” she asked.
“I’m okay,” he answered. He slid into his chair. “This has turned into a rough day,” he said. “I’m tired.”
She came around behind him. “Let me rub your neck and shoulders. It’ll ease the tension.”
“Good,” he said. Her hands were gentle and warm. He turned his head. “That’s like magic. It really helps.”
“Your Uncle Rocco called me on my private line,” she said.
He turned to her quickly. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”
She shook her head. “Not in front of Jim.”
“What did he say?”
“He said that he will call you at home at midnight, your time,” she said.
“What else did he say?”
“‘Rico,’” she said. “They couldn’t get him in New York; now they’re putting together a grand jury to nail him in New Jersey.” She looked at him. “He wants you to have your phones debugged. And to sweep your apartment as well.”
“Get John Scanlon in Security and have him take care of it.”
“Are you in trouble?” she asked in a concerned voice.
“Not me,” he answered. “But I am worried for my uncle.” He watched as she called Security, then looked down at his messages. There was only one that was important. He picked up another phone. “Let me talk to Rudy Mayer in Purchasing,” he said to one of the secretaries in his outer office.
Rudy came on the line. “Yes, Boss.”
“What kind of deal does Aerospatiale want to give us on the A 300s?”
“It’s their new model. A 300-200. Stretchouts. It carries four hundred passengers. You order ten and place them on U.S. airlines, they’ll give you a twenty percent discount and a twenty-year finance plan.”
“They give you any idea of the figures?”
“No,” Rudy said. “They won’t give any numbers until you tell them that you’re interested.”
“Usually domestic airlines are cautious about foreign planes. But there is a market for them. Vacation season. Florida. Mexico. They’re always short of space.”
“What do you want me to tell them?”
“Tell them I’m interested. I’ll start talking to Eastern, American, Western, and Mexicana,” he said.