To Save a Son (7 page)

Maria Spinetti left Nicky's firm after their engagement was announced, to be replaced by an upgraded secretary from one of the outer offices, and Franks and Tina became socially involved with the couple. They were living together in advance of the actual wedding ceremony, and Franks and Tina often stayed overnight in Nicky's brownstone in the upper Sixties. On weekends the couple frequently drove up to Scarsdale. Tina had installed a court and there were a lot of tennis parties because it turned out to be Maria's favorite game, too.

As their friendship increased, Franks reflected how fortunate it was that he had not responded stupidly in the early days to the invitation from Maria. He remained convinced there
had
been an invitation. But not any longer. Now her attitude was one of warm but correctly defined friendship. He supposed that she'd actually become Tina's best friend. As the wedding drew nearer the two women spent almost every day together, planning her trousseau and the dresses for the bridesmaids—one of whom was Gabriella—and the changes that Nicky was letting her make to the Manhattan townhouse.

Maria's mother was a widow, with an apartment on Long Island, so the reception was held at the Scargo's Westchester home. There were marquees in the garden again and a band, and the tennis court was floored for dancing. It was in July, during the English school holidays, so David was able to attend. The Scargos invited all their relations, and Nicky included a lot of business acquaintances. Dukes and Flamini and Pascara attended. Apart from the brief period of the opening ceremonies, it was the first time Franks had been involved with them in anything like a social occasion. Angela Dukes wore a tight-fitting suit and a wide-brimmed picture hat, and Flamini's wife still appeared bewildered, although she was more at home here, in a family setting.

It was boisterous and Italian-American. Franks watched Tina dancing with someone he believed was a cousin but wasn't sure and thought how completely happy he was. Contented, too. At last. His fears at taking in outside investors had been misplaced, he accepted honestly. And he finally felt he'd proved himself.
To
himself. And to the Scargo family. He was no longer the refugee with a label in his lapel. He was actually smiling at his own reflections when he felt movement alongside and turned to see Nicky, smiling also.

“Leaving?” said Franks. Nicky and Maria were honey-mooning in Europe, two weeks of the trip in one of Franks' villas near the Lido, on the coast near Venice.

“Not yet,” said the lawyer. “Poppa wants to see us both.”

Enrico was in the drawing room, at the window that overlooked the party. He was standing there gazing out when Franks and Nicky entered. As they did so he held out his arms to both of them, in a welcoming embrace, and when they walked forward put his arms around both of them, pulling them close. Nicky put his arm around his father, and after an embarrassed hesitation Franks did so too. Enrico released them both after a while and said, “This is a wonderful day. Both my sons successful. Now both my sons married to beautiful girls. A wonderful day.”

Franks became aware of an ice bucket and wine beside the table from which Nicky usually poured the drinks. Enrico performed the task this time, formally handing them glasses. “I want this to be a very special toast,” he said. “Special beyond the rest.”

Franks smiled back, admiring the man. He had to be seventy, Franks supposed; maybe older. But little seemed to have changed from the day of that dockside arrival, all those years ago. The hair was completely white now but remained very full, and he was still upright and comparatively hard-bodied, apart from the paunch. Franks raised his glass, responding to Enrico's invitation.

“To my son and to a man I regard as my son,” said Enrico, thick-voiced. “I want you to know how proud I am. How proud I've always been. I don't think there can be a man as happy as I am with the life he's had.”

Franks had the impression that Nicky felt embarrassed now. He said, “Let me make another toast. Let me say thank-you to a wonderful man and a wonderful family who took me in and made me part of it.” There was a risk of this becoming maudlin, he thought. But he wanted to say it. None of them would ever know but he'd just made an apology for all his stupidity in the last few years in his attitude toward them.

They drank, and then Enrico proposed again, “To us always being like we are today.”

“As we are today,” echoed Nicky.

“Get back to the party,” instructed Enrico, swallowing heavily. “Get back out there and enjoy the fun.”

As they made their way out of the house Nicky said, “David Dukes has a suggestion about the Caribbean operation.”

“What?” asked Franks.

“He wasn't specific,” said Nicky dismissively.

Franks found the Texan by the dance floor, indulgently watching as Pascara's son swirled around with his flamboyant wife. “Nicky says you've got an idea about the company,” he said.

Dukes turned to him. “Only an idea,” he said. “Just thought I'd put it forward, to see what everybody thinks.”

10

It made practical sense to have preliminary discussions on Dukes' proposal while they were all in New York, despite Nicky's honeymoon absence. They still used his office and conference area—because that was where they always met—the day after the Westchester reception. Franks automatically chaired the meeting, but because the discussions were informal he agreed to Pascara's suggestion that there was no need for formal note-taking or record-making.

“What's the suggestion?” Franks demanded when they were settled.

“Gambling,” announced Dukes shortly.

“Gambling?” The question came from Pascara, slightly ahead of Franks.

“Quite separately from our involvement together I've acquired an interest in Las Vegas,” expanded Dukes. “I've spent a lot of time there recently. The profit from gaming is astonishing. Some of the larger hotels with casinos, like Caesars Palace and the Sands, think in terms of millions of dollars a week.”

“You think we should consider expansion into Las Vegas?” said Pascara, responding to rare prompting from Luigi, beside him.

Dukes shook his head. “My thought was that we should install casinos in our own complexes.”

“It goes against our concept,” said Franks. “Our whole theme is absolute luxury. Slot machines don't fit in.”

“I wasn't suggesting that they did,” said Dukes. “Why not make the casinos like the hotels, high class, high stakes, everything discreet and plush? The very fact of
not
having slot machines would be a gimmick that would fit exactly into our mold.”

“My feelings are with Franks,” said Flamini. “We're doing well with a good image. I'm not sure that gambling fits into it.”

“Would the governments of the islands allow it anyway?” said Pascara, hinting opposition.

“We won't know until we've made an approach,” said Dukes. “There's already a casino in Nassau so I don't see why they should object to another one.”

“Maybe on the grounds that there is already one in existence,” said Franks.

“Like I said,” reiterated Dukes, “we won't know until we've made an approach.”

Franks knew from his French operation how popular the casinos were in places like Cannes and Deauville. Conscious of his mistaken initial attitude toward the men, Franks tried to remain objective. His immediate response was to reject the idea outright, but a more considered reflection was that the sort of casino that Dukes was suggesting might be an advantage. The Bahamas and Bermuda were geared for American vacationers and there was a great limitation to casino gambling in the United States. To Pascara he said, “What do you think?”

“I'm unwilling to come out for or against at this stage,” said the blind man. “I'd need some certified accounts to be convinced if it's practicable. And I'd certainly need to know the attitudes of both the island governments.”

“Flamini?” invited Franks.

“I like our luxury concept,” said the other Italian. “It's worked. At the moment I'm unsure we'd be able to maintain the standard if we go into casinos. There are too many shady areas in gambling.”

“Not if it's properly governed and policed,” said Dukes. “The sort of security that exists in Vegas is incredible. And it works. They keep files on all the known crooks and gangsters. I'd defy any of them to last longer than an hour before they're identified.”

“I don't suppose there would be any harm in exploring it,” said Flamini. “This is informal, after all. If we decide against it we haven't really wasted anything.”

“I'd like to see something of the actual operation,” said Franks with his predictable need to examine everything personally.

“Why don't I take you down and introduce you to my Las Vegas partner? Name's Harry Greenberg. The hotel is the Golden Hat.”

“We still need to know the attitude of the islands,” reminded Flamini.

“Why don't I go to Las Vegas and then across to the islands?” suggested Franks. “I could get the feel of everything and we could have a complete discussion next time, when Nicky's back.”

“It could be a lot of work for nothing,” said Flamini.

“Surely you wouldn't consider going on without it!” said Franks, surprised at the apparent reversal of the man's attitude.

“No,” said Flamini. “Maybe Nicky's the one to do it, that's all.”

“Nicky's not here,” said Franks, reluctant to surrender personal supervision.

Franks met Dukes in Nevada at the end of the week. Harry Greenberg was a fleshy, eagerly smiling man who wore a lot of gold jewelry and smoked cigars through a stunted holder. The friendship between him and Dukes was very obvious from the time and trouble the casino director devoted to them. Both were given hospitality suites on the top floor of the hotel and a chauffeured limousine was made available to them throughout their stay. Greenberg personally escorted them through the security and monitoring rooms, producing the criminal files about which Dukes had spoken in New York. Greenberg explained the intricacies of the various games and their profit margins, and did not confine himself to his own hotel but took them on varying tours through the rest of the hotels on the strip. Everywhere they were personally greeted by other directors and shown the facilities.

Franks didn't like Las Vegas in any way. The supposedly luxury hotels seemed to him plasticized and surface smart, the halter-topped and check-shirted clientele raucous and herdlike, and the casinos garishly offensive. Throughout, however, he remained utterly objective, refusing any judgment on initial impressions and letting everyone fully explain the benefits.

He refused, too, to commit any opinion to Dukes, although he did in Dukes' suite go fully through the figures that Greenberg made available. From those figures, incomplete though they were, the profit of which Dukes was so enthusiastic was undeniable.

From Las Vegas Franks flew directly to Bermuda where in less than a week he encountered opposition from almost every government minister and official to whom he talked. Franks went to the Bahamas prepared for the same response, but found the attitude quite different.

He raised the question with William Snarsbrook, the tourist minister with whom Franks had first made contact when he arrived on the island to investigate the possibility of hotels and with whom he had remained in social and business contact ever since. Snarsbrook was a refined, educated Bahamian—with a degree in economics from the London School of Economics—and one of the few officials during those early negotiations who had not sought what was now disguised in the audited returns as “commission.” A tall, bespectacled, quiet man, Snarsbrook had only ever accepted the hospitality at the various hotel openings, and although it had been made clear he could dine and stay as a guest of the company at any of the hotels, Franks knew the man had never taken advantage of the offer.

They met on the second day of Franks' visit, at the hotel across the round-backed bridge leading to Paradise Island. Of the three complexes on the island the one nearest the capital had unofficially become the leader of the chain, and in the early part of their discussion Franks let the other man infer his visit was like so many of the others before it, the sort of personal check they had come to recognize and expect from him. It was only when they were well into the discussion, agreeing how successful the investment had been, that Franks mentioned the possibility of installing a casino.

“You'd like me to test the water?”

Franks hesitated at the man's expression. Surely at this late stage Snarsbrook wasn't maneuvering for a bribe? Cautiously Franks said, “I'd welcome some indication of how an approach might be received.…” He paused further, and then to give the man the opportunity for a demand if he intended one, said, “Would it be difficult?”

“It shouldn't be too much of a problem to gauge a reaction,” said the minister.

Snarsbrook wasn't going to ask for any commission, Franks decided. He was relieved. He liked the man, and his opinion would have been diminished if there'd been any sort of approach. “How long?” he said.

“Soon,” promised Snarsbrook. It was a promise he kept, making contact within two days. Following the success and prestige of the existing hotels, the Bahamian government would favorably consider a casino providing it was an improvement over that which already existed.

“This is an official reaction?” pressed Franks, determined against any misunderstanding.

“Absolutely,” guaranteed Snarsbrook. “Your company—but more importantly you, personally—have got a very good name here on the island. An established reputation.”

“That's very flattering,” said Franks.

“There's no reason why it should be,” said Snarsbrook. “What's been achieved here on the island is a personal thing … personal to you.”