The Rebellion of Yale Marratt (78 page)

 

 

"I'm damned if I can see how you can sit here and discuss . . ." Sam was
about to say "unimportant things," but he thought better of it. "Things
like this when we've got a million dollar deal in the fire. Remember,
Yale, part of this Latham deal has been financed by me." Pleased that
at last he had captured Yale's attention, Sam continued. "Let me bring
you up to date. I picked up another five thousand shares of Latham stock
yesterday. An old duffer out in Chicago had them. I was lucky to get to
him first. Despite the publicity he didn't know what was going on. I got
it for forty dollars a share. You've got one hundred and ninety thousand
shares now. With Agatha's fifty thousand shares, you've got clear control."
Sam laughed, "I'll bet even your old man has been tempted in this deal.
He's listed with two thousand shares. The short-sellers are willing to
pay ninety dollars a share. That would net your father one hundred and
eighty thousand dollars. His loyalty to Alfred Latham must be under a
severe test. How about you, Agatha? You could make a couple of million
dollars damned quick."

 

 

"It's going to be worth considerably more to go to the next board meeting
and see my brother's face," Agatha said. "Besides, I have had those oil
leases checked very carefully. I think, for once in his life, my brother
may have made an excellent investment. They may be more valuable than
the Shipyard."

 

 

"What have I averaged out at?" Yale asked Sam.

 

 

"Right at the moment we are in it for a total of five million, seven
hundred thousand. Thirty dollars a share. I'm in as deep as you are,
chum. But if necessary we could liquidate the place and clear a few
million. The Latham Yards own one hell of a lot of Midhaven real estate.
Besides . . . there are those oil leases. . . ." Sam grinned at Agatha.
"What are you going to do with the short sellers . . . especially
Paul Downing? He really got sucked in. He's forty thousand shares
short. In addition to his stock there were at least another sixty
thousand that were sold short when the stock was selling for about
eighteen dollars a share."

 

 

Yale smiled. "I'm going to try to have my cake and eat it. Tomorrow
I will offer Downing forty thousand shares at seventy-five dollars a
share. That's a damned good deal. I could try for more but I want to
get clear before the thing gets too hot legally. I think Downing will
snap it up. He'll get off a nasty hook for three million dollars. He
can afford it."

 

 

Sam shook his head. "You want to be careful. You'll lose control of
Latham's. You and Agatha have got to hold onto at least a hundred
and eighty thousand shares between you. Alfred Latham has a hundred
thousand. If you're too greedy you and Agatha could end up depending on
proxies for clear control. Alfred will try to pick up any stock you sell
to the short sellers."

 

 

Yale looked at Aunt Agatha who had been following their conversation
with great interest.

 

 

"What do you think, Aunt Agatha?"

 

 

"Oh, I've been thinking, young man. Don't worry about that! I figure
that if you can manage it, you'll have made nearly a million dollars,
clear, and you still will have one hundred thousand shares of Latham
stock. Anyone as clever as that, Sam, will swing those proxies when the
time comes. When do we force a stockholder's meeting, Yale? I think you
should make it next week for certain." Agatha sipped her Scotch. She
looked meditatively at Sam. "I think we should elect you President,
and myself Chairman of the Board. Of course, we must not overlook the
fact that Paul Downing was playing golf with Pat Marratt and my brother
this morning. They are no doubt hoping to prick our little balloon. What
they don't know is that when Yale came to me with his little scheme I
decided that if Sam Higgins could quietly try to pick up some Latham
stock I could certainly do as well. I bought an additional ten thousand
shares of Latham stock last April just as security."

 

 

Sam looked at Agatha suspiciously. "You must have been responsible for
that famous saying. . . ."

 

 

Agatha took the hook. She asked Sam what he meant. She laughed until
she had to wipe tears out of her eyes when Sam said coolly: "I wouldn't
trust my own grandmother . . ." Sam turned to Yale. "Cripes, I think
Agatha should be Chairman of the Board. She's a fox."

 

 

"Agatha and I have another plan," Yale said. "If there's anyone that
could put Latham on its feet, I think it's Pat Marratt. I'm sure, Sam,
that you have too many irons in the fire to fool with Latham's. I'm not
interested. Pat Marratt might make a few concessions to get the prestige.
Agatha has agreed to let me feel him out." Yale picked another hot dog off
the grill. He slowly spooned piccalilli on it. "There's no doubt about it.
Marratt piccalilli is the best there is," he said admiringly. "I think the
Marratt stock would look good in the portfolio of Challenge Incorporated."

 

 

"What!" Anne and Cynthia demanded almost simultaneously . . . amazed
disbelief in their voices.

 

 

"Pat called me this morning," Yale continued coolly. "He insisted that
I meet with him and Paul Downing in his office tomorrow morning. I told
him that any discussion we would have required clarification. I mentioned
that the board of directors of Challenge Incorporated would have to be
present. When I told him that I would meet with him in the Challenge barn,
I could hear him sputter. I think he believes that we are going to talk
business in a stable, among horses and cows. Anyway, he's coming. We'll
see what develops."

 

 

"Oh, Yale. I won't sleep all night." Cynthia wailed. "Why do Anne and
I have to see him?"

 

 

Yale smiled at her and Anne. "I just want to remind you that you
and Anne are the co-directors of Challenge. Tomorrow, your financial
advisor . . . meaning me . . . Yale grinned, ". . . will offer Pat a
very interesting proposition, in exchange for his eventual assignment
of the stock in Marratt Corporation to your non-profit foundation. You
may have Pat as a productive partner. . . ."

 

 

"I can see him, now . . ." Anne groaned. "You don't really think he'll
buy that idea, do you, Yale?" she asked sarcastically.

 

 

Yale shrugged. "Probably not . . . but it would simplify things if
he would."

 

 

 

 

They talked for a while, trying to anticipate the national reaction to Mat
Chilling's book. Working in cooperation with an established publisher,
Challenge, Inc. had completely subsidized the promotion. Complete
distribution would be accomplished within ten days. Full advertising
would start to break tomorrow. All possible media had been covered
. . . national spot radio advertising . . . national coverage through
newspapers and magazines . . . even some billboard advertising:
"Challenge Foundation presents the most important book written in the
past hundred years,
Spoken in My Manner
. A book to guide thinking men
and women everywhere. A book that will spell the end of war and hatred
for all mankind."

 

 

"It's the first book," Yale said, "that has ever been launched with a
million dollar advertising campaign. Actually, it is the opening gun for
Challenge Incorporated. We plan to sell at least half a million copies."

 

 

Sam flipped the pages of a copy of the book. "I don't know anything
about book publishing," he said, "and I still am not quite sure what in
the hell Challenge is trying to do . . . but I think in this area, Yale,
you are a little cracked. You've stuck a price tag of ten dollars a copy
on this book. It has four hundred pages. I'd say it was worth about five
dollars at the most."

 

 

"Open to the middle of the book," Anne told him. "See . . . when you buy
a copy of this book, you send us your name and address. Your ten dollars
makes you a contributor and charter member of Challenge Incorporated. All
that you have to do is to fill out the pre-paid postcard . . . and tell
us that you believe in the Ten Commandments of Challenge. We will send
you your own personal gadfly pin, or lapel button." Anne shoved a tiny
box across the table to Sam. Sam opened it and took out a pin that was a
perfect reproduction of a green cattle fly. Sam turned it over and over,
bewildered. "Who in hell would want to wear this?"

 

 

"Millions of people we hope . . ." Cynthia said. "Actually you don't
have to wear the pin. It is a psychological symbol. It means that you
are picking up the challenge that Socrates accepted as his mission in
life. Like him you became a gadfly to make men think . . . to analyze with
whatever powers they may have; to never stop seeking the truth." Cynthia's
voice was very earnest. Yale looked at her, surprised at her intensity.

 

 

Sam was about to reply when Yale said, "Sam . . . read the book, and
then argue with us. It will make it much simpler."

 

 

Sam shrugged. He looked at his watch. "It's eleven o'clock. I'm pooped.
Let's go to bed and read a while, Clara."

 

 

Clara looked at Sam with raised eyebrows. Reluctantly, she followed him
into the house. In a few minutes they all decided to go to bed. Yale helped
Aunt Agatha up the carpeted staircase. Cynthia fretted that they should
have offered Clara a separate room. "She said that she hadn't slept with
him since April. Now they have the bedroom with that single bed."

 

 

When they were back in their bedroom Cynthia said goodnight to Yale
and Anne.

 

 

Anne yawned. "It's too hot . . ." she said sleepily. "I pass. Okay, honey?
Besides, I wouldn't call this afternoon a checkmate . . . no matter what
you told Sam. He isn't that powerful a king . . . is he, Cindar?"

 

 

Cynthia blushed. "I felt like the fisherman in the Arabian nights who
pulled a strange bottle out of the water . . . uncorked it . . . and
out popped a monster."

 

 

"He wasn't a monster!" Yale said, joining their banter. "He was a
good-natured genii that became the fisherman's slave." Yale sucked in his
chest. Naked, he bowed to the floor. "At your service, memsahibs. Command
castles, and they are yours. Command the wealth of the world, and it is
yours . . . as for me . . ." he said, flipping a towel at Anne's behind,
"I'm going for a moonlight swim. Come on. It will cool you off. . . ."

 

 

The late July moon was silver on the water of the pool. They swam
for nearly an hour, playing like puppies in the water, nudging each
other, piling into each other, gliding their hands over each other's
bodies; threatening, cajoling, laughing for no reason other than sheer
delight. Finally, exhausted and shivering, they lay together on the
cement edge of the pooi and silently contemplated the stars and the long
moonlit shadows of the pine trees.

 

 

Yale kissed them. "Reminds me of a poem," he said softly, ". . .
de la Mare . . .

 

 

Slowly, silently, now the moon
walks the night in her silver shoon.
This way and that she peers and sees
silver fruit on silver trees. . . .

 

 

"Shhh . . . Be quiet," Cynthia whispered.

 

 

"Someone is coming . . ." Anne said.

 

 

"I'll bet it's Sam and Clara," Yale said. "We should have invited them,
I guess."

 

 

Both Anne and Cynthia protested that they weren't in the mood to see
either Sam or Clara again tonight. "Particularly, not naked like this,"
Cynthia said. They hid in the shadows of the cabanas, out of sight,
and waited, feeling guilty at spying, wondering what they would say if
they were accidentally seen.

 

 

Sam and Clara, wearing bathing suits and carrying towels, walked out of
the pine grove that skirted the pool, onto the moonlit flagstones. They
were holding hands. They stood silently and watched the water. Then Clara
turned and kissed Sam. A second later to their amazement they saw Clara
swiftly slip out of her Bikini bathing suit and dive into the pool. Sam
took off his trunks and dove in after her.

 

 

"Am I seeing things?" Cynthia gasped. Yale was chuckling.

 

 

"For heaven's sakes, you two," Anne said. "Shut up before they hear us."
While Sam and Clara were swimming together Yale wondered if the three of
them might reach the path to the house unseen. He put his arms around Anne
and Cynthia. They were both shivering. Yale was about to ask them if they
should make a run for the house, when Sam and Clara emerged from the pool.

 

 

"It's too late, now," he whispered. "We shouldn't have hidden. We'll have
to sweat it out."

 

 

They saw Sam walk toward the cabanas, almost to where they were standing.
He picked up a canvas-covered mattress from one of the outdoor chaises,
and brought it back to where Clara was waiting near the edge of the pool.
Clara lay on it.

 

 

"They are going to make love . . ." Cynthia said, wonder in her voice.
"We should leave."

 

 

But they were trapped. They heard Clara gasp, "Sam . . .!"

 

 

Later, when they finally got back to their bedroom Anne and Cynthia were
busy discussing it. They kissed Yale goodnight.

 

 

"I didn't want to watch . . ." Anne said to Cynthia, ". . . but I was
surprised . . . even objectively it wasn't ugly. . . ."

 

 

"I was crying I was so happy for them," Cynthia said. "Sam was very gentle
with her . . . I wonder what happened? Do you suppose Mat's book got them
thinking . . . ?"