The Piranhas (22 page)

“What do you really need me for, Uncle Rocco?” I asked. “It seems to me you do pretty good on your own.”

“I don’t agree with that. If you stay in the business, sooner or later they’ll get you. I can’t handle this excitement anymore, I’m too old for it.” He looked at me. “You’re family. Look down at the floor. Is this any way to live? You’re going to have to get me out.”

I stared at him. “I’ll have another grappa.”

We both put away another shot. Finally I felt warm again. “How do we get this thing cleaned up?”

“I have connections downstairs. There’ll be no word.” He looked down at the two men on the floor. “There is only one thing that I feel badly about. That Oriental rug on the floor cost me a hundred and fifty grand. It was one of only two in the world. And these two bastards have ruined it.”

4

THERE WAS ONE
thing about grappa: maybe it burned your guts out, but it also blew the cobwebs from your brain. It turned my head into a 64K computer. I sat on the bar stool and watched Uncle Rocco talking on the telephone. Around us in the room, cleaning men were working and straightening, getting everything back to normal.

Uncle Rocco was speaking in Italian. I didn’t understand Italian all that well, but my mental computer enabled me to know exactly what he was saying. He told whoever he was talking to that they were assholes, and none of them could follow the rules. And if they didn’t obey the rules they would all wind up in the shithouse. Then he smiled, said
“Ciao,”
and put down the telephone.

“Alma and the child are on their way up,” he said to me.

“Good. I have to get some sleep. I have to catch a shuttle to New York for an L.A. flight.”

“You’re not going,” he said firmly. “We have a more important meeting here tomorrow.”

“I’ve made arrangements to conclude the contract with Aerospatiale at my office tomorrow,” I said. “I have a half billion on deposit with them, and if I don’t sign, I can blow it all.”

“You won’t blow it,” he said confidently. “But if you don’t make this meeting tomorrow you
will
blow it.”

The 64K grappa computer clicked in. “Uncle Rocco,” I said, “I thought you asked me to be here for family business, but that wasn’t it, was it?”

Silently he poured more grappa into our glasses. “Drink,” he said.

“You’re my uncle,” I said angrily. “I came up here tonight ready to die for you if I had to. But you’re not being honest with me. You’re just playing Godfather.”

“There are no more Godfathers,” he said quietly. “We are all nothing but honest businessmen.”

“What is the business then?” I asked sarcastically. “Death?”

“I didn’t look for it,” he said. “These men were children playing games. They saw too many movies.”

I stared at him for a moment. “I don’t get it. What does your meeting tomorrow have to do with my agreement with Aerospatiale?”

“The meeting is with Europeans,” he said. “They have more influence with Aerospatiale than you have as an American. And your biggest competitor is a Dutch company that is bidding on the same deal.”

“I know that,” I said shortly. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“The Dutch company will buy you out for three billion,” he said. “Cash.”

“Two years from now,” I said, “my business will be worth five billion.”

“The magic word ‘deregulation’ has doubled the number of airlines of three years ago. You did well because they needed you. But now labor, maintenance, and fuel costs are beginning to rocket,” Uncle Rocco said seriously. “Seventy percent of the new airlines are underfinanced and loaded with junk bonds, shylock-interest payments. The industry is already discounting fares like crazy just to keep their heads above water. A small recession, and you’ll wind up with more repossessed aircraft than you can stick up your ass.”

“It’s not going to happen,” I said. “The market is still climbing, and all the business forecasts are upbeat.”

“I’ve been around a long time,” he said quietly. “And there’s one thing I’ve learned. Life is a roller coaster. Everything that goes up comes down.”

“But sooner or later it goes up again,” I said. “History taught me that.”

“Right,” he agreed. “But you have to be careful that you don’t get castrated in the downslide.” He gulped his grappa. “If you get three billion for your company, how much do you net?”

I rolled the numbers over in my head. “Between six hundred and six hundred fifty million after taxes.”

A new respect came into his face. “You’re rich.”

“I’m not in your class, Uncle Rocco,” I said.

“But you did better,” he said heavily. “You never had to shovel society’s shit since you were fifteen, you never had to do hard time for eleven years of your life, or murder to save your life or to gain respect from the society. And you never had the dead imprinted on your eyelids when you went to sleep.”

I placed a hand on his arm. “It was many years ago, Uncle Rocco,” I said. “It was another time, another world.”

“But I’m still alive,” he said quietly. “And for me it’s still the same world. That’s why I want to get out of it.”

It was my turn to fill the glasses with grappa.
“Salute,”
I said. We gulped our drinks. The door opened and four men in overalls carried in another large rug and placed it on the floor, replacing the bloody one that had been removed.

I stared down at the rug, then turned to Uncle Rocco. “I thought you said that there were only two rugs of this kind in the world.”

He smiled and nodded. “That’s true. But I wasn’t going to take any chances if anything should happen to mine. So I bought both of them.”

“What are you going to do with the other one?”

“I’m shipping it to Pakistan. It was made there over two hundred years ago, but the Pakistani are still the only ones who can clean and repair it.”

I got down from the bar stool. My legs were a little wobbly. “I’m going to bed,” I said.

Alma appeared, fully dressed now. She crossed to Uncle Rocco. “Are you all right?” she asked.

He nodded “Everything’s okay.”

She turned to me. “Angela is already asleep.”

“Good,” I said.

“She adores you,” she said. “She thinks you’re a hero.”

I laughed. “She’s a child. When she grows up she’ll think I am stupid.”

It was Uncle Rocco who interrupted. “You are a hero. You came to save my life.”

“I was stupid,” I said. “You didn’t need any help.” My head was beginning to hurt. “I’d better get to bed, I’m getting dizzy.”

“I’ll help you downstairs,” Alma said quickly.

“No, thanks,” I replied. “I’ll manage.”

She turned to Uncle Rocco. “Did you tell him that I was going to Los Angeles?”

I stared at Uncle Rocco. “You didn’t tell me.”

He held his hands outstretched. “I forgot.”

“Oh, shit.” I said. Then I weaved out of the room and managed almost to fall down the staircase. The three security men that were posted on the floor helped me tumble into bed. The ceiling spun around and I passed out. Grappa. I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t wake up until noon the next day.

Uncle Rocco was sitting on the edge of my bed when I opened my eyes. “How do you feel?” he asked.

I squinted at the light. My head felt like it was exploding. My mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton. “Awful,” I mumbled.

He reached to the night table and picked up an empty glass and a pitcher filled with a reddish-brown drink loaded with ice cubes. He filled the glass and handed it to me. “Drink it. You’ll feel better.”

I held it to my mouth. A terrible smell hit my nose. “What the hell is it?” I asked.

“Bloody Mary and Fernet Branca,” he said. “Swallow it.”

I drank it quickly. I began to feel nauseous. “It tastes like shit,” I said.

Quickly he refilled the glass. “Again,” he ordered.

Automatically I did as he said. Suddenly I could breathe again, my eyes cleared, and my headache disappeared. “Jesus,” I said. “Who gave you that formula?”

He laughed. “It was my mother’s anti-grappa medicine.”

“It works,” I said. “I’ll grab a shower and get dressed. What time did you say that we’d have a meeting?”

“I’ve already had the meeting. There was no way I could wake you up,” he said.

“Then what the hell happened?”

“Everything is all right.” He smiled. “I told them that you said you would take care of it.”

“Take care of what?” I asked.

He smiled. “Buy control of Millennium Films.”

“I don’t know anything about that business. What am I going to do with it?” I asked.

“Turn it over to them,” he said.

I thought for a moment. “And what happens if I decide to hang onto it?”

“That’s what Jarvis wanted to do,” he answered.

“Then I have no choice,” I said.

“And neither do I,” Uncle Rocco said. “I’m the
patrone.
We’ll both be dead.”

5

I PULLED THE
Blazer into the garage of my office building and stopped in front of the parking attendant. He came out of his small booth and smiled at me. “Good morning, Mr. Stevens.”

“Good morning, John,” I said.

He looked at me. “Miss Latimer is waiting for you in the garage-floor waiting room at the elevator.”

“Thank you, John,” I said and crossed toward the elevator corridor. I opened the door. She was alone in the small room. She stubbed out a cigarette in the sandbox next to her.

“What’s wrong?” I asked. I’d never seen her smoking in the daytime.

“You didn’t tell me that cunt was coming to the meeting,” she said angrily.

“I told you all of them would be here. She’s one of the principals,” I said. “I couldn’t leave her out.”

“I don’t trust her.”

“You’re jealous,” I said. “Forget it. It’s only business. After today you won’t see her anymore.”

“Maybe I won’t,” she said. “But will you?”

“Don’t be silly. I won’t either.”

“I
am
jealous,” she admitted. “She really is special.”

“Yesterday’s style.” I laughed.

She looked at me. “You mean that?”

“You’re definitely today’s style,” I said, kissing her. “You’re my baby.”

“I’m sorry. I got upset.”

I started toward the elevator. “Everybody up there?” I asked.

“All there,” she said. “And they were early. Shepherd and his attorney, Gitlin; McManus from the B. of A.; Peachtree and his assistant, Shifrin; the cunt and her banker from Canada; the team from D.B.&L.; Siddely; the attorney representing Millennium; then Jim Handley from our office with our accountant, Dave Blitz. I thought I’d fill in as secretary and notary.”

I smiled at her as the elevator went up. “Bitch,” I said. “I should have known that you’d find a way to get yourself into the meeting.”

“I’m not crazy. I wasn’t going to leave you alone in the room with that woman.”

*   *   *

I COULD SEE
the curiosity on their faces as I entered the meeting. I stood at the head of the table, Kim sat to my left, her tape recorder and her stenotype machine in front of her.

“Good morning, Mrs. Jarvis and gentlemen. First, I want to thank you for your attendance at this meeting on such short notice. As you know, for the last few months I have been studying operations and problems of Millennium and I genuinely believe we now have to face the moment of truth. The company is hocked up to its ass and its income cannot support its operation for another two weeks. Under these circumstances even Chapter Eleven won’t help us. We have no inventory or assets to live on until we get well. All that faces us is protection under a reorganization plan or a public auction, neither of which will do any of us any good. Everything will be lost.”

They all were silent for a moment, then Judge Gitlin spoke quietly. He went right to the heart of the matter. “If the company busts,” he said, “there are only two real losers: Mr. Shepherd and Mrs. Jarvis. They each have four hundred million in it.”

“True,” I said. “But Shepherd owes me eighty-five million. I don’t see how he can pay me back, so I lose too.”

“You told him that you would support him,” the judge said quietly. “You knew that you would be on the line for the four hundred.”

“It wasn’t on paper,” I said. “And you never told me how much the company was in the shithouse.”

“We’ll sue your ass off,” the old man said.

“I have an eighty-five-million-dollar note that Shepherd signed. I have a better lawsuit than you have.”

“You’re nothing but a crook,” the judge said pleasantly.

“C’est la vie,”
I answered. “Life changes.”

Mr. Kinnard, Alma’s Canadian banker, looked at me. “How do we fit into this?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” I said. “That loan was made to the late Mr. Jarvis. I understand that his stock was given to the company as collateral.”

“But you tell me that this company is worth nothing,” he said.

“All I can give you is my sympathy,” I said.

“Jed, you’re nothing but a prick!” Alma snapped. “I thought I could depend on you.” She started to sob.

“Personally, you can,” I said. “But this is not personal, Alma, this is business.” I had to admire her. She was giving one of the greatest performances I had ever seen. A woman scorned—not a conspirator from the beginning. I wondered if she had used some of these same wiles in wresting control of the estate from Jarvis’s two sons.

“Wait a minute,” Shepherd said. He looked shrewdly at me. “You didn’t ask us to this meeting just to tell us that the company is broke. We all know that. You have something else in mind.”

I smiled at him. “You’re guessing right, Brad.”

“You want to take the company over,” he said.

“No, Brad,” I said. “I want to buy it.”

“You’re crazier than I was,” Brad said.

“Maybe I’ll be lucky,” I said. “I’ll give you fifty percent on the dollar for your interest.”

“It won’t work,” Brad said. “My agreement with Jarvis was to pay him off at one hundred percent.”

“Jarvis is dead,” I said. “Mrs. Jarvis might be agreeable.”

Alma looked at me, then at the Canadian banker, Mr. Kinnard. “What do you think?”

“Fifty percent would be better than nothing,” Mr. Kinnard said.