To Save a Son (17 page)

From the Houston report it seemed that Dukes was better known as Georgio Alcante. It was in that name that he had been indicted and later convicted for taking women across the state line for the purpose of prostitution and also for illegal gambling. There was another prostitution conviction in the name of Tony Alberi.

Determined to prepare himself as carefully as possible for the confrontation, Franks read and reread everything several times, absorbing the details of all the indictments and then reading all the newspaper clippings that the lawyers in both towns had managed to assemble. All the indictments and the media coverage that stemmed from them dated from at least ten years earlier. In the covering letter from Chicago, the lawyers said that the businesses in which Flamini and Pascara had involved themselves since that time appeared reputable and bona fide. It provided no reassurance for Franks. He decided that he deserved the sneers and the suspicions of the FBI agents for blundering into the situation as he had. And Nicky and his father weren't entirely to blame. Predominantly, certainly, but he was at fault, too. He could have—should have—initiated just this sort of character search, but he'd been too eager to win a race and create the situation of Nicky working for him. Whatever happened, Franks knew that he would always suffer self-recrimination for that infantile attitude. He deserved, in fact, to suffer it.

Although Franks was confident he'd memorized all the pertinent facts, he made notes to prompt himself for the confrontation. He worked oblivious to the time, only vaguely aware of Tina calling England and moving around the suite, surprised when he finally looked up that it was already dark beyond the windows and that she'd put the lights on in the suite.

“Must be good stuff,” she said.

“Just more detail to what the FBI people said last night.”

“No difficulty in invoking the propriety clause then?”

“αNone whatsoever,” said Franks. He hoped she didn't ask to see the material. “Everything fixed at the house?”

She nodded. “It's the early Concorde tomorrow, nine
A.M.
We should be up there long before lunch.”

Franks put the papers back into their envelopes and then put the envelopes into his briefcase. He said, ‘“Hope David doesn't suffer too much at school when all this becomes public. Children can be cruel little bastards.”

“Will
it become public?”

“I think we've got to accept the fact that they'll try to bring charges, from the attitude of those two last night.”

“But it's not like in England, not here,” she said. “Grand jury hearings are usually private. If the charges are dismissed at that stage, then there won't be much publicity. Certainly not enough to get over to England and cause David any embarrassment.”

Maybe only minimally as far as the businesses were concerned, he thought. “Weil see what Rosenberg says.”

They ate dinner out, more to escape the restricting walls of the hotel suite than through hunger, at Keane's just off Sixth Avenue. Franks could rarely remember their having difficulty talking before, but tonight there was, each making concerted efforts to find something other than the current crisis and each failing. He was relieved when, finally realizing it, she actually burst out laughing and said, “This is bloody ridiculous, isn't it?”

He laughed with her and predicted, “This is what we'll do when it's over. Laugh about it.”

“I hope so,” she said.

“I know so,” he said confidently.

That night it was Tina who wanted to make love, and they did, relaxed and enjoying each other, climaxing together like they always did, and then staying together and he grew hard again, and they made love again, very quickly.

“You're a good fuck,” said Tina.

“So are you,” said Franks, who knew Tina got pleasure from talking dirty when they made love.

“Don't ever fuck anybody else.”

“I haven't. And I won't.”

“I'd cut your balls off if I found out you had.”

“Sadist.”

“Be one. Hurt me. Squeeze my tits.”

He did, hard, pinching the nipples, and she screamed and bucked beneath him, and said, “I came, without you.”

“I love you,” said Franks.

“I love you, too,” said Tina. “I'm sorry I was shitty and wouldn't do it last night.”

“You weren't shitty.”

“I was,” she said. “I know I was. Those men frightened me. I hadn't been frightened, not until then. They made everything look so bad. I couldn't make love after that.”

“You made up for it tonight,” said Franks, moving away from her at last.

“I think it would be nice,” she said.

“What?”

“You quitting when it's over. The kids at school and us together all the time.” She turned to him in the darkness and said, “Do you know that's something about us? We're never bored with each other's company, are we?”

“No,” said Franks. “Lucky, I guess.”

“I don't think luck has got anything to do with it.” She was silent for several moments and then she said, “Poor Maria.”

“Why poor Maria?”

“Didn't you see how she was, up at the house?” demanded Tina. “Bewildered. Disgusted, too. How can she have any more respect—love—for Nicky after this? It must have been awful for her, watching him cringe and crawl. I just can't believe anymore that he's my brother.”

“Maybe you could still stay friends with Maria,” said Franks. “It's going to be difficult for anyone else to stay close, but I don't see why you couldn't keep in contact with her. She wasn't involved in any of it, after all.”

Tina shifted beside him in the bed, folding herself into his body. “She was Nicky's personal assistant when it began. She must have known something.”

“I don't see why,” said Franks, trying to be objective.

“Maybe I'll try to keep something going,” said Tina. “Let's get the immediate problems over and start again from there.”

Tina had to leave early the following morning to meet the incoming flight from England. They breakfasted in the suite, not speaking a lot, and there was a hesitation, a reluctance at the actual moment of parting, when the call came from the lobby that her car was waiting.

“Be careful,” she said.

“And you.”

“I'm just going out to an airport.”

“And I'm just going to a business meeting.”

“Good luck.”

“It'll be fine. Don't worry.”

“Call me?”

“As soon as I can.”

“Sure you don't want me to come? Elizabeth could take the kids up to Scarsdale by herself. She's done it before.”

“You go,” said Franks. “I've got your proxy vote. That's enough.”

“It's going to be nasty, isn't it?”

“Maybe.”

“Careful,” she said again.

“You know I'll be.”

“I love you, Eddie Franks.”

“I love you, Tina Franks.”

He kissed her and she held on to him, reluctant to let him go, as well. He said, “Kiss the kids for me.”

“Okay.”

“I'll get up on the weekend. I promise. They can't make me stay here.”

“Call me after the meeting with Rosenberg, too? I want to know everything that's going on.”

“Of course I will.”

“I love you.”

“You've said that already.”

“I just wanted to make sure you understood.”

“You'll be late for the flight.”

Tina stood away, looking at him intently. Abruptly she stretched up, kissed him again, and then she was gone.

Franks felt a lonely emptiness after she left; briefly he wished he'd accepted her offer to come with him to the meeting, something he had never wanted and she had never done before. He shook himself, like a dog sloughing off water, at the reflection. It wouldn't be so bad after the confrontation. Franks showered and shaved leisurely, and, still in his robe, went again through all the documentation that he'd read the previous day, making the final, absolute check. There was no necessity to add anything to his notes or to his intended presentation, Franks decided.

Franks went early to Nicky's office, wanting to be there waiting when they arrived. The lawyer looked awful, wax-faced and sweating, his suit crumpled and damp around him.

“For God's sake, get hold of yourself!” Franks said to the other man.

“I'm sorry,” Nicky said. “I'm scared, Eddie. Really scared.”

Franks curbed his irritation. “It won't take long.” he said. “There's nothing to discuss. It'll be over very quickly.”

“Maria's moved out,” announced Nicky.

“Left you?”

Nicky shrugged. “I don't know. She said she wanted to go back to her mother's place for a while, to think things out.”

Franks supposed he should express some regret, but he didn't; it would have been hypocritical. Nicky's problems were of his own creation, every one of them.

“You'll run the meeting?” urged Nicky.

“Of course.”

“What did the reports say, from Houston and Chicago?”

“Nothing that we didn't already know; just more detail, that's all.”

“I wondered if Tina might come?”

“She wanted to. I told her to go to Scarsdale instead.”

“She going to see the family this weekend?” asked Nicky carelessly.

“No,” said Franks.

“Course not,” mumbled Nicky in immediate retreat. “Stupid question.” He looked unnecessarily at his watch and said, “Ten forty-five.”

“Yes.”

“They'll be here soon.”

“Take a drink or something, Nicky.”

“Maybe I will. You want one?”

“No.”

Franks watched while the man he'd once thought of as a brother went to a cocktail cabinet concealed in a floor-to-ceiling bookcase and gushed liquor into a glass. There were no identifying bottles, everything in cut glass decanters, but the liquid was amber and so Franks guessed it was some sort of whiskey. Nicky gulped at it and coughed awkwardly. “Sure?” said the lawyer, holding up the glass.

“Sure.”

Embarrassed, despite his contempt now for the man, Franks walked from the office into the conference chamber. Where it began and where it was going to end, he thought. It was strange that they'd never changed the venue, to the Madison Avenue office suite from which the island businesses were run. The two office floors were only rented, Franks remembered, his mind straying to practicalities. With the demand for office space in Manhattan as high as it was, it would be easy enough to get out of the lease, might even make a profit. It would be the only part of the businesses that stood any possibility of doing so.

He took the chair at the head of the table and spread out his prepared material. Should he feel scared, like everyone else? He didn't. He knew now—had proof—what sort of men Dukes and Flamini and Pascara were, but he didn't feel scared of them. If he felt anything, he supposed it was contempt again. Anger, too. Anger at their imagining they could cheat him. He qualified the thought. They
had
cheated him. And would have gone on cheating him, but for the FBI investigation. Maybe they had reason to be contemptuous of him. Of his naivety, at least. They wouldn't be contemptuous, not after today.

Nicky must have had some warning of their arrival because before the men appeared the lawyer hurried in and came close to where Franks was sitting, like a child seeking the protection of a bigger brother at the threat from the school bullies.

They all entered together, and Franks wondered if they'd met elsewhere first; they might have considered it a good idea. Dukes led, blank-faced, gazing around the conference area as if he expected there to be more people than just Scargo and Franks present. Pascara followed with the caution of his blindness, Luigi attentively by his side, and Flamini came last. They grouped inside the door and Franks decided at once that their controlled apprehension was in his favor.

“Shall we sit down?” he said.

Their hesitation lasted a few more seconds, and then they moved around the table, Dukes still leading, taking their customary chairs.

“What about you?” Franks said to Nicky, who'd remained standing nervously at his side.

The lawyer physically started at being addressed, hurrying to a seat next to Franks, not the one he normally occupied at the far end.

“What's the reason for this?” demanded Pascara, his head moving searchingly as he tried to establish where Franks was sitting.

“The dissolution, under the propriety clause that exists in each and every contract, of the companies holding the hotels in Bermuda and the Bahamas and of the separate company running the casino in Nassau,” announced Franks with strict formality.

“Why?” demanded Flamini.

Franks already had a bookmark in the record of the company deeds, so he found the place easily. “Clause Fourteen, to which all of you are signatories, in the case of Roberto Pascara by the hand of Luigi Pascara, vested with power of attorney, reads as follows,” said Franks, still formal, “‘All agreements, understandings and contractual agreements understood and agreed by the directors of this company shall be deemed null and void if, in the opinion of the controlling stockholders, each or any of those directors commits any act or conducts himself in any way so as to endanger the public propriety of this company. If such impropriety having occurred or been discovered, it shall be the duty of the chairman to summon a full meeting of the board to decide upon the action to be taken, such a meeting not to be later than fourteen full working days after the date of any such occurrence or discovery.…'” Franks looked up. “My first awareness that there could be some transgression of this clause came less than five days ago,” he said. “Therefore this meeting is called well within the understood and accepted regulations governing the conduct of the companies concerned.”