To Save a Son (4 page)

Franks' irritation at the lawyer already having made approaches was only momentary; there would have had to be some discussion in advance of their meeting for Nicky to be able to say whether or not he could broker the deal. He said, “Pretty much in line with English banks.”

“They'll do better, now we've got specific figures,” insisted Nicky.

“How much better?” demanded Franks.

“Ten,” predicted Nicky. “Maybe not for the whole amount but for the majority.”

Franks guessed his English financiers would demand a split commitment, too; pegging the development costs but putting a half or maybe a whole point higher on the money necessary until everything was operational. “Why don't we set up some meetings, to see what they'll do?”

Nicky pushed away his plate, hesitating. Then he said, “I've also gone to sources other than banks.”

“Private investors prepared for a forty-eight-million-dollar deal?” asked Franks.

“I've known people prepared to invest for a lesser immediate return. And sums greater than forty-eight million dollars,” assured Nicky. “People prepared to wait to see their investment mature and stay good. Hotels are bricks and mortar; permanent. Some people are attracted to permanence more than the uncertainty of the stock market.”

“No harm in exploring that, too,” conceded Franks. What about his unbroken principle? he asked himself at once. It still wasn't a commitment, he thought, in reassurance. And it would all make useful bargaining material when he went to the British banks.

“Took a chance on your saying that,” said Nicky. “There are some guys in town I've acted for on previous occasions. Give them my personal guarantee. Two from Chicago and one from Houston. The Chicago guys are going back tonight; they're locked into a meeting there tomorrow. So I've set up a conference this afternoon, back at the office.”

“Thought you weren't hustling,” said Franks, unsettled at the speed with which things were moving.

“They couldn't change their plans,” repeated Nicky. “It seemed ridiculous to lose the opportunity; we'd arranged to go back after lunch anyway.”

Franks tried to avoid the thought but he couldn't; Nicky was very much in the subservient role. He said, “Okay. But just because of the circumstances. From now on let's take things a bit slower; I want to talk things through and make my own decisions how to proceed, not have them made for me.”

“You're always going to be the one who calls the shots,” reminded Nicky, unoffended by the rebuke.

“You've acted for them before?”

“All of them,” assured Nicky. “Like I said, I can personally guarantee them. One, Roberto Pascara, is a friend of my father's, from the early days when he set up the trucking business.”

He'd go to the meeting, decided Franks. But from now on he'd insist that Nicky do everything at his pace. He was the one in control, after all; and he was determined to stay that way.

Even before they entered the conference room adjoining Nicky Scargo's office, Franks had strengthened the lunchtime decision and was positively determined against becoming involved with private investors. He'd make the pretense—not just for Nicky's sake but for Enrico as well, as the old man knew one of them—but he'd find a reason to make any business arrangement impossible. He'd always insisted upon personal, unfettered control, and he'd always been successful. So it would be ridiculous to consider changing the pattern.

Franks was not aware of Nicky making any warning telephone calls to Maria Spinetti but she appeared to expect the men, ushering them into the conference room with the same vague seductiveness Franks had noticed before. Franks didn't sit immediately but went instead to the window, gazing out at the twin towers and the nearby Woolworth Building. He looked in the direction of the unseen East River and the Lower East Side, thinking back to the time they had been children together and Enrico had set them the contests in that first apartment, just off East Houston. He'd never dreamed then of being a self-made millionaire—didn't know what a millionaire was—or of one day standing in a high-rise building in the heart of the city's financial district about to discuss, even if in the charade he intended, a forty-eight-million-dollar deal. How much he wished his father had lived to see all this happen.

David Dukes was the first to arrive, precisely on time, a tall, discreetly dressed blond-haired man with a pronounced Texan accent and an even more pronounced Texan courteousness, profusely thanking Franks for making the meeting, as if the Englishman had flown specially from London to keep the appointment. The others arrived within minutes, and Franks was momentarily confused when three instead of the expected two entered. But at the moment of introduction to Roberto Pascara, Franks saw the man offer his hand without direction, and Franks realized that he was blind and that his other hand was resting slightly on the arm of his escort, a younger but very similar man. As if he were conscious of the confusion, Pascara said as they shook hands, “And this is my son, Luigi.”

Franks extended the greeting to the younger man and Luigi responded with a firm handshake, cupping his father's grasp to his arm with the other hand while making his gesture.

As Franks completed the ritual with Roland Flamini he thought how similar the three men were. All were darkly saturnine and dressed similarly, in muted greys.

Nicky, who seated himself at the head of the table after making the introductions, retained the role of broker, initiating and guiding the discussion. He spoke at once of the family relationship, to declare his own interest. Briefed from the lunch-time discussion, he was able to detail now the amount of money Franks considered necessary. He talked, too, precisely, factually, of the preliminary discussions with the three U.S. banks. Franks sat attentively, despite his already-made decision, admiring Nicky's presentation. Franks was aware, too, of the attentiveness of everyone else in the room. Only the younger Pascara appeared to be making any notes; the three older financiers sat with head-bent interest toward the lawyer. The blind man seemed completely accustomed now to his surroundings, facing the speaker as if he could see as well as hear. It was the elder Pascara who began the discussion when Nicky stopped talking.

“What's the breakdown of the forty-eight million dollars?” he asked, head moving searchingly, waiting for Franks' response to discern a direction from the sound of a voice.

“For each complex, five complexes in all, 9.6 million,” said Franks. “Two in Bermuda, three in the Bahamas. I'm estimating 6.5 million as outright construction cost, for each hotel.” The meeting wouldn't be entirely wasted, he thought; it could act as a rehearsal for the approaches he would later make to the banks. He went on: “Into that costing will have to be built commission money. That's always going to remain an uncertain figure, but it's essential that some provision is made. We'll need to spread some money around to maintain schedules.”

“Bribes?” said Dukes, determined to understand.

“Bribes,” confirmed Franks. “That's the way it is.”

The sightless Pascara smiled, and said, “Allowing for that there still seems to be an additional expenditure of 3.1 million.”

“The 6.5 million dollars is specifically assigned to the actual construction. The furnishings, fittings … everything … are planned to the highest specification. The theme is luxury. I'm not interested in hamburgers, and beer served in plastic beakers.”

Flamini smiled, an expression without humor, and said, “I'm sure none of us here are either, Mr. Franks.”

“So that means budgeting to expensive standards,” said Franks. “There also has to be an anticipated operational cost, until there's a cash turnaround.…” Franks paused, enjoying himself. It wasn't just a useful rehearsal: it was an opportunity to show Nicky how professional he was. He went on, “This isn't a high-yield investment. This is something that is going to start slowly—maybe with some setbacks—but then come good.” The statement might also act as a deterrent if their interest was in a quick-buck return; it might be better for the Scargo family if it were one or more of the financiers who refused to go ahead rather than himself.

“What about the bribes?” persisted Dukes. “It won't stop with the construction. There'll be sweeteners for laundry and garbage collection and for market men—things like that.”

“It's a way of life we'll have to go along with,” agreed Franks. “The important thing is to let everyone know we will work within the system but that we're not stupid. We'll make a deal and we'll stick to it.”

“Don't you object to the system?” asked Pascara unexpectedly.

Franks looked toward the man, wondering if the son ever spoke or merely acted always as his father's eyes. “Of course I object to it,” he said. “But it
is
the system.” Franks felt a burst of impatience for the meeting to end. He'd indulged himself by meeting these investors and letting Nicky see what sort of negotiator he was. But he'd stay alone; there was little point in extending the playacting any longer.

“We've already heard from Nicky of your considerable success in Europe,” said Flamini.

Franks looked up the table toward the man with whom he had been brought up, realizing Nicky had taken the discussion with these men further than he had indicated at lunch. He said pointedly, “All my other companies are strictly limited and private.”

“Meaning total independence?” said Flamini.

“Just that,” said Franks. He was conscious of the looks that went between Dukes and Flamini and decided that the declaration, coupled with his earlier remark about the slowness of initial profit, would go a long way toward deterring them. Luigi Pascara was hunched over his pad, scribbling hard, the scratch of the pen audible in the silence of the room. Nicky stirred, searching for a way to move the meeting on, but before he could do so the elder Pascara said, “You're telling us that you would expect to retain that independence? Absolute control, in fact?”

“Yes,” said Franks. “If whatever company I formed included private investors rather than banks, then of course a board would be correctly constructed and hold proper board meetings. But I would expect the running and administration to be my responsibility.”

“Uninterrupted?” pressed Duke.

“Uninterrupted,” confirmed Franks. How could he bring everything to an end? he wondered.

“From which it follows that you intend putting up the greater part of the forty-eight million dollars?” said Flamini. “To be a majority shareholder you would expect to make the majority investment?”

Franks paused, uncomfortable with the detailed insistence. “Of course,” he said.

“How much do you consider investing and how much would you require from us?” took up Pascara.

“That would depend upon the sort of return you were expecting from your investment,” said Franks carelessly, trying to gain time to enable himself to make the calculations.

“Your intended investment doesn't depend upon that,” said Dukes, joining in the demands.

“The suggested figure of forty-eight million dollars is a provisional one, an estimate that needs refined calculation after the market study and detailed costing of land purchase and material prices,” said Franks, recovering. “I would expect to put in something like twenty million of that myself, with an additional shareholding of five million in my wife's name. That would leave a shortfall of twenty-three million.”

“I don't think twenty-three million dollars split in some way between the three of us would be a bad stock holding,” said Dukes. “I'd certainly like to consider it further.”

“I think I would, too,” said Flamini.

“I'm interested,” came in Pascara. “I need more detailed costs, development schedules, things like that, of course.”

“Naturally,” said Franks easily, pleased at seeing an end in sight. “All that would be available.” Nicky had set the meeting up so it could be Nicky later to tell them he'd decided to go ahead a different way. He was sure each of them had been involved in abortive business discussions before.

“How soon?” said Dukes.

“I'd guess the market surveys and detailed discussion would take three months,” avoided Franks, more relaxed now. “Then there would have to be talks with the landowners, for the site purchases to be costed.”

“There should be something in four months then?” said Flamini.

“There should be something by then, certainly,” said Franks. He was disinterested now, regretting that he'd agreed at all to such a pointless gathering.

“Can we schedule another meeting?” asked Dukes.

“Of course not,” said Franks, letting the feeling show. He gestured to the lawyer at the top of the conference table and said, “Nicky convened this meeting. I'll keep him informed on the progress and when there's something to discuss he'll arrange something further between us.”

“That sounds a good enough arrangement,” said Pascara, and there were nods from the other men at the table. Luigi Pascara looked up from his pad, stretching the cramp from his fingers, as glad as Franks that it was over.

Nicky insisted on summoning Maria to serve drinks, although it was not yet five o'clock. Dukes and Flamini and the younger Pascara agreed to martinis and whiskey, but the sightless man asked for mineral water. Maintaining the social pretense, Franks took gin as well.

“A toast, to a successful business partnership,” proposed Nicky, raising his glass.

“To a successful business partnership,” recited the other men in the room.

“A successful business partnership,” echoed Franks dutifully.

•     •     •

Within a week of the meeting, Argentina declared a moratorium on foreign debts of forty billion dollars, and Syria and Iraq at the same time demanded the surrender by Israel of the occupied territories on the West Bank with the threat of military intervention if that surrender was not made.