"Where the hell do we go?" he asked gruffly.
"The elevator is down the hall on the left, sir," replied the policeman.
"Thank you, young man, and my regards to the commissioner."
"I'll tell him myself, sir. We're on special detail and report only to him."
"You'll have a long and rewarding career, fella. What's your name?"
"O'Shaughnessy, sir."
"Another wop, right?" The three men laughed as the V.I.P and his bodyguard walked down the hall to the elevator.
"I can't believe I'm doing this!" continued the businessman, his breath short.
"Some nobody flies in, supposedly from Amsterdam, and I'm summoned to meet him, and that's exactly what it was, a goddamned summons! Who the hell does he think he "?"
"The others say he knows the words, Albert," replied the man acting as bodyguard, removing his hand from under his raincoat.
"All the words."
"It could be a fishing expedition," said the shorter man, the one called Albert.
"If it is, he knows where certain fish are. The banking and the utility boys want to meet you after you've seen this William Clayton-" "No doubt a false name," interrupted the executive.
"There's no one by that name on any list I've got."
"You hardly have an inclusive list, Al, none of us do. Just listen to his words and don't volunteer a damn thing. Do as the others did, act innocent and shocked."
"You know, just because you're a lawyer you don't have to remind me of the obvious." The elevator door opened; both men walked in, and the armed attorney pressed the four-digit code for the floor as it had been given.
"Take off your coat and hat, Stuart," added Albert Whitehead, CEO of Wall Street's Swanson and Schwartz, a major brokerage firm.
"I will now," agreed the lawyer named Stuart Nichols, removing his Burberry and Irish walking cap.
"I didn't care to before. I wanted to make sure those cops were on our side."
"That's paranoid."
"No, memories of things past. I was a military prosecutor in Saigon, where a lot of uniforms wanted to see me dead. A couple nearly did and they were dressed as MP's.. .. You're still going to introduce me as your attorney?"
"You're goddamned right. I'll add that you know everything everything-about me. I'm an open book to you-only you."
"He still may ask me to leave."
"Give him reasons why you shouldn't. You're good at that."
"I'll try, but if he insists, I'm not going to argue."
"Glad to meet you, Mr. Nichols, and delighted you're here," said "William Clayton," a.k.a. Brandon Scofield, a.k.a. Beowulf Agate, convivially addressing the attorney and shaking hands. Scofield was dressed in a conservative dark blue business suit that came off a very high-priced rack serviced by tailors. He led his guests to their appropriate chairs, each with a side table, and rang a silver bell. Antonia, dressed in a starched black-and-white maid's uniform, her graying hair pulled back into a severe bun, emerged from a door. She was an imposing sight.
"Coffee, tea, a drink? ..." asked Brandon.
"By the way, this is Constantina, from the hotel, and she doesn't speak a word of English. It was a request I made; she and I converse in Italian."
"Sorry it's not French," said Stuart Nichols, the lawyer.
"I took several years at prep school and it served me well in Saigon."
"Let's see.. .. Constantina, vous parlez franca is
"Che cosa, signore?" "Capisce france se
"Non, signore. Linguaggio volga re
"I'm afraid she can't join us. She says it's a vulgar tongue. When will they make peace with each other?" No one cared for anything, so Antonia, nodding professionally, was dismissed.
"I know your time is limited, as is mine," said Scofield, "so shall we get down to business?"
"I'd like to know what our business is, Mr. Clayton," insisted Whitehead.
"Our mutual business, sir," replied Beowulf Agate.
"Stocks, bonds, debentures, loans-corporate and transnational, in the main initial stock offerings, naturally, but, most vitally, your servicing the intricacies of mergers and buy outs Inestimable contributions."
"You're covering an enormous range of activities," said the CEO of Swanson and Schwartz, "and the majority are of a highly confidential nature."
"As they are in the Exchange in London, the Bourse in Paris, the Borsa in Rome, and the Borse in Berlin, all are highly confidential. But certainly not regarding Amsterdam."
"Would you clarify that, please," broke in Nichols.
"If I have to, perhaps you don't know your client, or his firm, as well as you think you do," answered Brandon.
"I'm the firm's attorney, Mr. Clayton. It is my sole client. There isn't anything I'm not aware of."
"Does that include Mr. Whitehead here? Because if it doesn't, I suggest you leave us."
"He's already told you it does."
"Then I can't imagine your not knowing about Amsterdam.. ..
Twelve years ago, a Randall Swanson, now deceased, and a Seymour Schwartz, currently retired and living in Switzerland, combined to start a new brokerage house in the most competitive few blocks in the capitalistic world. Wonder of wonders, within a few years they blossomed into an important player, growing so rapidly they soon were on the edge of becoming a major force rivaling Kravis and the former Milken. Then, more wonderful still, during the last year Swan-son and Schwartz engineered the most impressive mergers in recent memory number one on the charts, my friends. Simply remarkable, but how was it done?"
"Talent pays, Mr. Clayton," said the lawyer, in complete control.
"Mr. Whitehead is considered a brilliant, if not the most brilliant, managing director in current financial circles."
"Oh, he's good, very, very good, but can anybody really be that good? Talent without the resources to exercise that talent is a terrible waste, isn't it? But perhaps I've said enough, for if I'm wrong, I've frittered away your time, as well as my own, and that is unforgivable.
Time is money, isn't it, gentlemen?"
"Just what do you mean by resources?" asked a nervous White-head, unable to stop himself despite the subtle shaking of his attorney's head.
"Just what I said," replied Scofield.
"Investments in your talents, specifically foreign investment, if you like."
"There's nothing remotely illegal about that, Mr. Clayton," said Stuart Nichols.
"Surely, you realize that."
"I never implied that it was.. .. Look, my time is short and so is yours. All I wish to say-and if it does not apply to you, forget I ever said it-is this: Do not deal with Amsterdam. Amsterdam is finished, kaput, banished out of the league, for it wants to control everything and that cannot be permitted. Amsterdam can't be trusted any longer; it has turned, for its own short-term advantage, ultimately to self-destruct.
For that reason I left-fled, to be precise."
"Could you be clearer, please?" asked the attorney.
"No, I can't," answered Beowulf Agate, "for the records are buried in a maze of complexity. I'm not at liberty to discuss them. However, if you should care to reach me, call this hotel, ask for the manager, and he'll tell you the number and the code. However, again, if anything I've said does make sense, take my word, do not call Amsterdam. Should you do so, you could be on its death list.... I think this is good afternoon, gentlemen."
Scofield showed his bewildered guests out and firmly, loudly, closed the door on their backs. He then turned and walked into the living room as Antonia came out of the kitchen; she was still in her black-and-white uniform, but her hair had been freed from its confinement.
"They're lying from jib to jigger," said Bray, lighting a small, thin cigar.
"By the way, luv, you were damned convincing."
"It wasn't difficult, darling, the role fit, no acting required. You, on the other hand, gave a grand performance, extremely imaginative."
"Why thank you, my sweet, how so?"
"I read your notes on everyone you've already met with. With the others I could follow you, for there were too many coincidences, too much convergence of similar interests leading to collusion. You genuinely frightened a few of them, and they hid their fear with silence and abstract denials; the rest were completely confused. But when you mentioned foreign investments to these two, their silence was very loud, the mention of Amsterdam frightening, or so it seemed."
"Yeah, I kinda dragged that one out of my butt. It paid off, though, didn't it? They couldn't deny it fast enough, or at least justify it."
"How did you figure it, Bray? I'm simply curious."
"Part of the truth, Toni, part of the essential truth. We called them gaps in the old days, spaces that weren't filled.. .. Why would an up-and-coming brokerage house named Swanson and Schwartz sell out when their best years were ahead of them? Swanson died of a coronary when he had no history of heart trouble, and Schwartz left the States and became a citizen of Switzerland, both in their middle forties. For me, it was a classic Matarese pattern of manipulation. Both of those boys are Matarese down to their Gucci shoes."
"Sometimes you really revert to Beowulf Agate, don't you?"
"If the Serpent were still with us, I hope he'd agree. We owe a great deal to Taleniekov."
"Our lives, Bray, only our lives."