Sons of Fortune

“I wondered if perhaps we could meet.” Nat hesitated because he wasn’t quite sure what to say. “And I think it would be wise if it were just the two us,” he added. “Jus…jus…just the two of us.”

“Yes, I’m sure that would be all right,” said Nat, “but it will have to be somewhere no one would recognize us.”

“Might I suggest St. Joseph’s Cathedral?” said Mr. Goldblatz, “I don’t think anyone will recognize me there.”

Nat laughed. “When did you have in mind?” he asked.

“I would have thought sooner rather than later.”

“I agree,” said Nat.

“Shall we say three o’clock this afternoon? I can’t imagine there will be that many people in church on a Monday afternoon.”

“St. Joseph’s, three o’clock, I’ll see you there, Mr. Goldblatz.” No sooner had Nat put the phone down than it rang again.

“Joe Stein,” said Linda.

“Joe, what’s the latest?”

“I’ve just picked up another hundred thousand of Fairchild’s stock, which takes you up to twenty-nine percent. They’re currently around $2.90, which is less than half their high point. But you do have a problem,” said Joe.

“And what’s that?”

“If you don’t get hold of fifty percent by next Friday, you’ll be facing exactly the same problem Fairchild’s had a fortnight ago, so I hope you know what your next move is.”

“It may become clearer after a meeting I’m having at three o’clock this afternoon,” said Nat.

“That sounds interesting,” said Joe.

“It could well be,” said Nat, “but I can’t say anything at the moment because even I’m not sure what it’s all about.”

“Curiouser and curiouser,” said Joe. “I’ll look forward to hearing more. But what do you expect me to do in the meantime?”

“I want you to go on buying every Fairchild’s share you can lay your hands on until close of business tonight. Then let’s talk again just before the market opens tomorrow morning.”

“Understood,” said Joe, “then I’d better leave you and get back on the floor.”

Nat let out a long sigh, and tried to think what Murray Goldblatz could possibly want to see him about. He picked up the phone again, “Linda, get me Logan Fitzgerald—he’ll be on his New York number.”

“Your wife did stress that it was urgent and she called back again while you were speaking to Mr. Stein.”

“Right, I’ll phone her while you try and find Logan.”

Nat dialed his home number and then began strumming his fingers on the desk as he continued to think about Murray Goldblatz and what he could possibly want. Su Ling’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

“Sorry I didn’t—call you straight back,” said Nat, “but Murray…”

“Luke’s run away from school,” said Su Ling. “No one’s seen him since lights out last night.”

“You’ve got the chairman of the Democratic National Committee on line one, Mr. Gates on line two, and your wife on line three.”

“I’ll take the party chairman first. Would you ask Jimmy to hold and tell Annie I’ll call her right back.”

“She said it was urgent.”

“Tell her I’ll only be a couple of minutes.”

Fletcher would have liked a little more time to compose himself. He’d only met the party chairman a couple of times, in a corridor at the national convention, and at a cocktail party in Washington, D.C. He doubted if Mr. Brubaker would remember either occasion. And then there was the problem of how to address him, Mr. Brubaker, Alan, or even sir. After all, he’d been appointed chairman before Fletcher had even run for the Senate.