hr.thecarpetbaggers-第78节

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


various　accounts。〃
　Bernie's　face　was　flushed。　〃My　wife　is　very　clever　with　her　investments；〃　he　said。　〃I　don't　spend　my　time　looking　over　her　shoulder。〃
　〃Maybe　you　should；〃　I　said。　〃You'd　find　out　she　has　deals　with　practically　every　major　supplier　of　equipment　and　services　to　the　Norman　pany。　You　can't　tell　me　you're　not　aware　that　she　takes　a　salesman's　mission　of　from　five　to　fifteen　per　cent　on　the　gross　purchases　made　by　this　pany。〃
　He　sank　back　into　his　chair。　〃So　what's　wrong　with　that？　It's　perfectly　normal　business　practice。　She's　our　salesman　on　such　sales；　so　why　shouldn't　she　collect　a　mission？〃
　I'd　had　enough　of　his　crap。　〃All　right；　Mr。　Norman；〃　I　said。　〃Let's　stop　fooling　around。　I　offered　you　a　better　than　fair　price　for　your　stock。　Do　you　want　to　sell　it　or　don't　you？〃
　〃Not　for　three　and　a　half　million　dollars；　no。　Five　and　I　might　listen。〃
　〃You're　in　no　position　to　bargain；　Mr。　Norman；〃　I　said。　〃If　you　don't　accept　my　offer；　I'll　put　this　pany　into　receiver　ship。　Then　we'll　see　if　a　Federal　referee　finds　anything　criminal　in　your　wife's　so…called　legitimate　transactions。　You　seem　to　have　forgotten　that　what　you　do　with　the　pany　is　a　Federal　matter；　since　you　sold　stock　on　the　open　market。　It's　a　little　different　than　when　you　owned　it　all　yourself。　You　might　even　wind　up　in　jail。〃
　〃You　wouldn't　dare。〃
　〃No？〃　I　said。　I　held　out　my　hand。　McAllister　gave　me　the　Section　722　papers。　I　threw　them　over　to　Bernie。　〃It's　up　to　you。　If　you　don't　sell；　these　papers　will　be　in　court　tomorrow　morning。〃
　He　looked　down　at　the　papers；　then　back　at　me。　There　was　a　cold　hatred　in　his　eyes。　〃Why　do　you　do　this　to　me？〃　he　cried。　〃Is　it　because　you　hate　Jews　so　much；　when　all　I　tried　to　do　was　help　you？〃
　That　did　it。　I　went　around　the　table；　pulled　him　out　of　his　chair　and　backed　him　up　against　the　wall。　〃Look；　you　little　Jew　bastard；〃　I　shouted。　〃I've　had　enough　of　your　bullshit。　Every　time　you　offered　to　help　me；　you　picked　my　pocket。　What's　bugging　you　now　is　I　won't　let　you　do　it　again。〃
　〃Nazi！〃　he　spat　at　me。
　Slowly　I　let　him　down　and　turned　to　McAllister。　〃File　the　papers；〃　I　said。　〃And　also　bring　a　criminal　suit　against　Norman　and　his　wife　for　stealing　from　the　pany。〃
　I　started　for　the　door。
　〃Just　a　minute！〃　Bernie's　voice　stopped　me。　There　was　a　peculiar　smile　on　his　face。　〃There's　no　need　for　you　to　go　away　mad　just　because　I　got　a　little　excited。〃
　I　stared　at　him。
　〃e　back；〃　he　said；　sitting　down　at　the　table　again。　〃We　can　settle　this　whole　matter　between　us　in　a　few　minutes。　Like　gentlemen。〃
　
　I　stood　near　the　window；　watching　Bernie　sign　the　stock　transfers。　There　was　something　incongruous　about　the　way　he　sat　there；　the　pen　scratching　across　the　paper　as　he　signed　away　his　life's　work。　You　don't　have　to　like　a　guy　to　feel　sorry　for　him。　And　in　a　way　that　was　just　how　I　felt。
　He　was　a　selfish；　despicable　old　man。　He　had　no　sense　of　decency；　no　honor　or　ethics；　he'd　sacrifice　anyone　on　the　altar　of　his　power；　but　as　the　pen　moved　across　each　certificate；　I　had　the　feeling　his　life's　blood　was　running　out　of　the　golden　nib　along　with　the　ink。
　I　turned　and　looked　out　the　window；　thirty　stories　down　into　the　street。　Down　there　the　people　were　tiny；　they　had　little　dreams；　minute　plans。　The　next　day　was　Saturday。　Their　day　off。　Maybe　they'd　go　to　the　beach；　or　the　park。　If　they　had　the　money；　perhaps　they'd　take　a　drive　out　into　the　country。　They'd　sit　on　the　grass　next　to　their　wives　and　watch　the　kids　having　themselves　a　time　feeling　the　fresh；　cool　earth　under　their　feet。　They　were　lucky。
　They　didn't　live　in　a　jungle　that　measured　their　worth　by　their　ability　to　live　with　the　wolves。　They　weren't　born　to　a　father　who　couldn't　love　his　son　unless　he　was　cast　in　his　own　image。　They　weren't　surrounded　by　people　whose　only　thought　was　to　align　themselves　with　the　source　of　wealth。　When　they　loved；　it　was　because　of　how　they　felt；　not　because　of　how　much　they　might　benefit。
　I　felt　a　sour　taste　e　up　into　my　mouth。　That　was　the　way　it　might　be　down　there　but　I　really　didn't　know。　And　I　wasn't　particularly　anxious　to　find　out。　I　liked　it　up　here。
　It　was　like　being　in　the　sky　with　no　one　around　to　tell　you　what　you　could　do　or　couldn't　do。　In　my　world；　you　made　up　your　own　rules。　And　everybody　had　to　live　by　them　whether　they　liked　it　or　not。　As　long　as　you　were　on　top。　I　meant　to　stay　on　top　a　long　time。　Long　enough　so　that　when　people　spoke　my　name；　they　knew　whose　name　they　spoke。　Mine；　not　my　father's。
　I　turned　from　the　window　and　walked　back　to　the　table。　I　picked　up　the　certificates　and　looked　at　them。　They　were　signed　correctly。　Bernard　B。　Norman。
　Bernie　looked　up　at　me。　He　attempted　a　smile。　It　wasn't　very　successful。　〃Years　ago；　when　Bernie　Normanovitz　opened　his　first　nickelodeon　on　Fourth　Street　on　the　East　Side；　nobody　thought　he'd　someday　sell　his　pany　for　three　and　a　half　million　dollars。〃
　Suddenly；　I　didn't　care　any　more。　I　no　longer　felt　sorry　for　him。　He　had　raped　and　looted　a　pany　of　more　than　fifteen　million　dollars　and　his　only　excuse　was　that　he　had　happened　to　start　it。
　〃I　imagine　you'll　want　this；　too；〃　he　said；　reaching　into　his　inside　jacket　pocket　and　taking　out　a　folded　sheet　of　paper。
　I　took　it　from　him　and　opened　it。　It　was　his　letter　of　resignation　as　president　and　chairman　of　the　board。　I　looked　at　him　in　surprise。
　〃Now；　is　there　anything　else　I　can　do　for　you？〃
　〃No；〃　I　said。
　〃You're　wrong；　Mr。　Cord；〃　he　said　softly。　He　crossed　to　the　telephone　on　the　table　in　the　corner。　〃Operator；　this　is　Mr。　Norman。　You　can　put　that　call　for　Mr。　Cord　through　now。〃
　He　held　the　phone　toward　me。　〃For　you；〃　he　said　expressionlessly。　I　took　the　telephone　and　heard　the　operator's　voice。　〃I　have　Mr。　Cord　on　the　line　now；　Los　Angeles。〃
　There　was　a　click；　then　another；　as　the　call　went　through　on　the　other　end。　I　saw　Bernie　look　at　me　shrewdly；　then　walk　toward　the　door。　He　turned　and　looked　at　his　nephew。　〃ing；　David？〃
　Woolf　started　to　get　out　of　his　chair。
　〃You；〃　I　said；　covering　the　mouthpiece　with　my　hand。　〃Stay。〃
　David　looked　at　Bernie；　then　shook　his　head　slightly　and　sank　back　into　his　chair。　The　old　man　shrugged　his　shoulders。　〃Why　should　I　expect　any　more　from　my　own　flesh　and　blood？〃　he　said。　The　door　closed　behind　him。
　A　woman's　voice　came　on　in　my　ear。　There　was　something　vaguely　familiar　about　it。　〃Jonas　Cord？〃
　〃Speaking。　Who's　this？〃
　〃Ilene　Gaillard。　I've　been　trying　to　locate　you　all　afternoon。　Rina…　Rina…　〃　Her　voice　broke。
　I　felt　an　ominous　chill　tighten　around　my　heart。　〃Yes；　Miss　Gaillard；〃　I　asked；　〃what　about　Rina？〃
　〃She's　dying；　Mr。　Cord；〃　she　sobbed　into　the　telephone。　〃And　she　wants　to　see　you。〃
　〃Dying？〃　I　repeated。　I　couldn't　believe　it。　Not　Rina。　She　was　indestructible。
　〃Yes；　Mr。　Cord。　Encephalitis。　And　you'd　better　hurry。　The　doctors　don't　know　how　long　she　can　last。　She's　at　the　Colton　Sanitarium　in　Santa　Monica。　Can　I　tell　her　you're　ing？〃
　〃Tell　her　I'm　on　my　way！〃　I　said；　putting　down　the　phone。
　I　turned　to　look　at　David　Woolf。　He　was　watching　me　with　a　strange　expression　on　his　face。　〃You　knew；〃　I　said。
　He　nodded；　getting　to　his　feet。　〃I　knew。〃
　〃Why　didn't　you　tell　me？〃
　〃How　could　I？〃　he　asked。　〃My　uncle　was　afraid　if　you　found　out；　you　wouldn't　want　his　stock。〃
　A　strange　silence　came　into　the　room　as　I　picked　up　the　telephone　again。　I　gave　the　operator　Morrissey's　number　at　Roosevelt　Field。
　〃Do　you　want　me　to　leave　now？〃　Woolf　asked。
　I　shook　my　head。　I　had　been　neatly　suckered　into　buying　a　worthless　pany；　shorn　like　a　baby　lamb；　but　I　had　no　right　to　plain。　I'd　known　all　the　rules。
　But　now　even　that　didn't　matter。　Nothing　mattered。　The　only　thing　that　did　was　Rina。　I　swore　impatiently；　waiting　for　Morrissey　to　pick　up　the　phone。
　The　only　chance　I　had　of　getting　to　Rina　in　time　was　to　fly　out　there　in　the　CA…4。
　
　5
　
　THE　BRIGHTLY　LIT　HANGAR　WAS　A　FRENZY　OF　ACTIVITY。
　The　welders　were　up　on　the　wings；　their　masks　down；　their　torches　burning　with　a　hot　blue　flame　as　they　fused　the　reserve　fuel　tanks　to　the　wings。　The　pile　of　junk　beside　the　plane　was　growing　as　the　mechanics　stripped　her　of　everything　that　added　weight　and　yet　was　not　absolutely　essential　to　flight。
　I　checked　my　watch　as　Morrissey　came　toward　me。　It　was　almost　twelve　o'clock。　That　made　it　near　nine　in　California。　〃How　long　now？〃　I　asked。
　〃Not　too　long。〃　He　looked　down　at　the　sheet　of　paper　in　his　hand。　〃With　everything　stripped　off　her；　we're　still　fourteen　hundred　pounds　over　lift　capacity。〃
　The　Midwest　was　pletely　locked　in　by　storms；　according　to　our　weather　checks。　If　I　wanted　to　get　through；　I'd　have　to　fly　south　around　them。　Morrissey　had　figured　we'd　need　forty…three　per　cent　more　fuel　just　for　the　flight　itself　and　at　least　seven　per　cent　more　for　a　safety　margin。
　〃Why　don't　you　hold　off　until　morning？〃　Morrissey　asked。　〃Maybe　the　weather　will　lift　and　you　can　go　straight　through。〃
　〃No。〃
　〃For　Christ's　sake；〃　he　snapped。　〃You'll　never　even　get　her　off　the　ground。　If　you're　that　anxious　to　get　yourself　killed；　why　don't　you　use　a　gun！〃
　I　turned　and　looked　over　at　the　pile　of　junk　beside　the　plane。　〃How　much　does　the　radio　weigh？〃
　〃Five　hundr