The List (39 page)

“Yes, dear,” Renny said teasingly. “Are you going to call me?”

“If I need you to pick up something at the grocery store on the way home.”

“I wish.”

Jo laid her hand on his shoulder. “Also, remember what I said last night.”

“I will.”

“And remember everything else, too.”

“I will.” Renny leaned over for their first good-bye kiss. “See you soon.”

“Bye.” Jo stepped away, handed her boarding pass to the attendant, and walked down the ramp. She didn't look back, afraid that if she did, she might not have been able to keep walking away.

21

Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look.

J
ULIUS
C
AESAR
,
ACT 1, SCENE 2

T
he faces of the people in the airport concourse were as indistinguishable from one another as cornstalks in a field. Renny felt sharply the pain of separation and muttered his first airport prayer as he jostled his way through the throng to the parking deck. “Soon, God. Let me see her soon.”

At home, he put Brandy on her leash, and they ran until both were gasping for breath. Upon returning to the apartment, Brandy lay down on her side in front of the air-conditioning vent next to her bed. Renny was finishing a second glass of water when the phone rang. It was Thomas Layne.

“Are you feeling better?” Layne asked. “You looked a little under the weather at the church.”

“I'm fine now.”

“Glad to hear it.”

Renny didn't respond, and Layne cleared his throat. “I want to get together, just the two of us, while I am in town. Is tomorrow a possibility for lunch?”

Renny couldn't remember any scheduled conflict, but stalled, “I'll need to check my calendar when I get to the office in the morning.”

“Of course. I hope you're not tied up; it's important that we talk as soon as possible.”

“Sure. Do you want me to call you tomorrow morning?”

“No,” Layne said quickly. “Since I'm here with Lois and Jack, it would be better if I called you. I have your work number.”

“OK.”

“I look forward to seeing you tomorrow.”

At 9:30 the next morning, Renny was at his desk when the phone rang.

“Mr. Layne on line one,” the secretary announced.

After Renny picked up, Layne got straight to the point. “Are you free for lunch?”

“Yes.”

“Let's meet at Alton's at noon.”

“All right.”

“I'll see you there.”

Renny started to sweat. He decided to call Jo. Her mother answered the phone. “Hello, Mrs. Edwards, this is Renny. Is Jo available?”

“Good morning, Renny. No, she worked from seven last night until seven this morning. She collapsed into bed an hour ago; I'd hate to wake her.”

“That's OK. I'll try to catch her this evening.”

“She said you two had a good weekend.”

“Yes, we did.”

“I look forward to meeting you. You need to visit us soon, before we build our igloos.”

“Did she tell you about that?” Renny laughed. “I'd like to come. How about today?”

“We'll find a time, and I'll tell her you called.”

“Bye.”

Renny pulled into the Alton's parking lot a couple of minutes before noon. Except for a few uptown clubs, Alton's was the most expensive restaurant in the city. Many businessmen considered it the perfect setting for a power lunch. More deals were settled over Alton's steak roulade than in corporate boardrooms, but Renny would rather have a grilled cheese sandwich with Jo than steak with Layne.

A snooty maître d' greeted Renny in the foyer of the restaurant. “Are you meeting someone, sir?”

“Yes, Mr. Thomas Layne.”

“Mr. Layne is in the lounge waiting for you.”

Everyone in the restaurant wore a coat and tie, and the air conditioner hummed at maximum capacity. Renny shivered, but not from the cold. Taking a breath, he entered the wood-paneled lounge. Layne saw him and, scotch in hand, stood up to greet him. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“No, I still have an afternoon of paper shuffling to endure at the firm. I'd hate to miss a comma or apostrophe.”

“Well, let's have a seat. They have a table waiting for us.”

Layne led the way to a table for two. As soon as they sat down, a waiter appeared with another scotch and took Renny's order of water with a twist of lemon.

“How are you doing?” Layne asked in a fatherly tone as he set his glass on the table. “Things going well for you and the beautiful Ms. Johnston?”

“Very well,” Renny said. “I hope we're going to get married.”

“A whirlwind romance.”

“Yes, it has been.”

“No date yet?”

“Just serious discussions, but I'm sure it won't be long. ”

“I see.”

Renny continued, wanting to complete his presentation. “And I also see our marriage solving the questions raised about Jo in Georgetown. I've been keeping an eye on her as Mr. LaRochette asked. And although I'm seeing her for personal reasons, I think it will help us all if she agrees to marry me. Then there would be no reason to be concerned that she would compromise the secrecy of the List. It would be against my interest, and therefore her interest.”

“Good. I hope it all works out for you. But I didn't ask you to lunch to talk about Ms. Johnston.”

“You didn't? But you asked me about her in the parking lot at church.”

“Just a casual remark. Frankly, I'm not a bit worried about her telling anyone about the List. There's nothing she could do to interfere.” The waiter arrived, and Layne stopped to order a seafood bisque and crabmeat étouffée.

Renny, intent on delivering his monologue, hadn't looked at the menu. “Uh, the same, please. I'm confused. What did you want to talk about?” he asked.

“Something far more important. But first, I must ask if you are willing to keep our conversation confidential. Confidential from everyone.”

“I don't know,” Renny said uncertainly.

“There's nothing sinister involved. But to have any chance of success, my proposal must not be discussed with anyone else.”

“Including Jo?”

“Yes, although she's not my primary concern. I emphasize everyone to include all the others on the List.”

“And it's nothing illegal?” Renny felt like a schoolboy asking if it was OK to take only one piece of bubble gum without permission from the grocery store.

“Don't be silly. It's really just an issue of corporate protocol. Do I have your agreement?”

Renny conducted a three-second internal debate, decided corporate protocol was safe, and said yes.

“Good. First, I know you talked with Gus Eicholtz in Georgetown about his dissatisfaction with Desmond's domination of the List.” Layne held up his hand to keep Renny from interrupting. “Don't worry. I've talked with Gus myself, and we have devised a plan to break Desmond's grip on our money. Here's how. There is going to be a meeting of the List this Saturday in Georgetown. You haven't received notification because you don't have a post office box in Charlotte yet. A courier service will probably deliver a notice to you this afternoon or in the morning. The purpose of the meeting is to set the amount of distribution to members. I've talked with Robert Roget, who is a member of the investment committee, and I believe Desmond is going to recommend five to ten million apiece, a ridiculous amount.”

Still, an amount, Renny thought.

“Here's the plan. Now that Bart Maxwell is gone without an heir and Ms. Johnston was excluded on primogeniture, there are eight voting members. Before we give rubber-stamp approval to Desmond's distribution plan, I want to call a vote replacing Desmond as president of the corporation.”

“On what grounds?”

“None are needed, but if Desmond wants to get ugly, I think there is a good chance he has embezzled funds from the corpus of the List.”

“Can you prove it?”

“You're a lawyer. The circumstantial evidence is strong. Think about it. Did you contact the Swiss bank to gain access to the account?”

“Yes.”

“Did you receive authorization to withdraw funds?”

“No.”

“Whose name was on the account as legal representative of the List?”

“Desmond LaRochette.”

“Who has possession of a power of attorney from your father authorizing access to the account?”

“I don't know.”

“Do I have to tell you?”

Renny shook his head.

“What would prevent Desmond from accessing the account as representative of the List and as holder of a power of attorney from your father?”

“I don't know.”

“Nothing. And I believe the LaRochettes have made a practice of pirating money using different powers of attorney for generations.”

“Then do we really know how much remains in the corpus? Mr. Eicholtz said there was at least two billion.”

“There is at least that much, but the LaRochette fortune—made with the help of our personal money—is probably much more.”

“But can you document all this?”

“I don't really have to. I'm just mentioning it to convince you that we need to act, and act now. The removal of Desmond can be accomplished by a simple corporate resolution based upon a majority vote.”

“Who would be the new president?”

“C'est moi,” Layne said with a self-satisfied smile. “And my first act would be to make a motion for distribution of a substantially, and I mean substantially, greater amount of money to every member.”

“How much greater?”

“One hundred million dollars apiece.”

Renny gasped, started to speak, then said, “Whew.” Finding his tongue, he said, “One hundred million would go into our individual accounts?”

“That's right. And we would authorize everyone to withdraw the full amount for his personal use as soon as possible.”

“Do you have the votes?”

“Gus is in Singapore and will not attend.” Layne pulled an envelope from the inside pocket of his jacket. “He has given me proxy to vote on his behalf. Do you want to read it?”

“No, that's all right. Who else is committed?”

“Weiss hates LaRochette. He thinks Desmond is an effeminate wimp and would vote with us just to watch Desmond turn red in the face.”

“Who else?”

“I have one more stop to make after I leave Charlotte. I'm going to talk with Michael Flournoy. Desmond's father once insulted Flournoy's father, and they got in a big fight after a meeting in Georgetown. The elder LaRochette pulled a derringer out of his hat and shot Michael's father in the kneecap. He never walked without pain again. I think we can count on Michael's vote.”