Aces and Knaves

by Alan Cook

  "I've never played darts," Arrow said.

  "It should be an easy game for a lass as coordinated as you," Mr. Zeebarth said. "I'll show you."

  I had never played darts, either, but it was obvious I wasn't going to receive individual instruction like Arrow. Mr. Zeebarth very carefully helped position her body and then showed her how to hold the dart lightly between thumb and forefinger and guide it with her third finger. He pulled her arm back to her ear, and told her how to aim and release the dart in an economical overhand throw for maximum accuracy.

  He was so solicitous of her that it made me want to barf. And she soaked it up. Everybody was getting along better with Arrow than I was.

  Naturally, she beat me.

  While we played, the talk turned to the Internet. Mr. Zeebarth said that the owner of the pub had Internet access. Half-jokingly, I wondered aloud whether he would let me check my email. Mr. Zeebarth asked him and next thing I knew I was sitting in his office in front of a monitor.

  I read several routine messages. Then came the shocker: a message from eBay to the effect that I was the winner of the T-206 Wagner baseball card, with a bid of just over $380,000. I hadn't thought about that card since leaving the US. Now what should I do?

  I read the next message. It was from the seller of the card, congratulating me, telling me the amount of the postage and where to send a check. I had to stall him. I quickly typed a response to the effect that I was out of the country and would mail him a check in a few days.

  If I reneged, that information would be all over the Internet and my baseball card business would go down the tubes. Nobody would deal with me again.

  My face gave me away when I returned to the darts game. Arrow asked me if I had a problem. "Not if you happen to have several hundred thousand dollars you can lend me," I said.

  Chapter 25 WINNER

  The next day we raced the sun back to Los Angeles and arrived only two hours after we started, local time. The route took us over the whiteness of Iceland and Greenland. Mini-icebergs floated in the bays and snow covered the land, with no relief from the starkness and cold.

  In spite of being punchy after a ten-hour flight I was determined to call James Buchanan as soon as I got home. I had to come up with the money for the baseball card, but I couldn't afford to be obligated to him, especially since he was the enemy. Maybe he would just take the card, himself, and resell it. He could probably make a quick profit and he was, after all, in the business of making money. I clung to that hope as the airport shuttle deposited me at the gate of the castle.

  Before I called James I went to check on my father. He was dressed and sitting downstairs, reading some reports. He looked fairly good, except for a few new wrinkles and more gray hair. He also looked as if he had shrunk. The bones in his face were more prominent and I was sure he had lost weight.

  I didn't tell him any specifics about our trip; Arrow would be coming tomorrow to give him a briefing. I considered asking him to lend me $380,000, but rejected the idea. Whatever credibility I had gained with him during the last two weeks would be lost—and more.

  Enough stalling; I had to make the call before the business day ended. A young man answered the phone, as I expected. He said Mr. Buchanan was out of town. Damn! This couldn't wait. Every day I delayed in sending the check lowered my credit rating with the buyer—and everybody else because he would share his dissatisfaction with the Internet.

  "Is Stan there?" I asked.

  "One moment, please."

  A lot of moments passed.

  "Stan here."

  "Hi Stan, it's Karl Patterson."

  "Hey, Karl, how they hangin'?"

  "Uh, fine. Listen, Stan, I need some help. I talked to James a few days ago about a very rare baseball card that was up for auction, and he said to go ahead and bid on it."

  "A Honus Wagner, right?"

  "You know about it then."

  "James filled me in. He said you might be calling. Did you get the card?"

  "Yes. I..."

  "Okay, give me the amount and the name and address to send the check to."

  I gave Stan the information, but I had the distinct impression that I was sliding down one of those Arctic icebergs with nothing to stop me until I hit the freezing water.

  "Shall I have the card sent to you?" I asked.

  "No; you're the owner of the card. We don't know anything about baseball cards here. You have a safe deposit box, don't you?"

  "Yes. But what I was thinking is that since I can't really afford the card at this time you might want to turn around and resell it for a quick profit."

  "Any profit on resale goes to you, since you're the owner. The most we'd do is charge you nominal interest. However, I don't see reselling it, Karl. Owning a rare card like the Wagner is a dream come true for a collector, such as yourself.

  "I suggest that you get your ass up here on Monday, when James will be back in town, and work out a deal with him to pay for the card. You know that James is a reasonable man."

  As reasonable as a king cobra. What could I do for James that was worth $380,000? I didn't want to think about it.

  ***

  "I'm not surprised that James would do something like that," my father said the next morning after Arrow and I filled him in on our adventures. "He still tramples on people."

  That didn't make me feel good. We had made light of our two fights, the only visible evidence of which was the bruise on my cheek and a Band-Aid on Arrow's chin. We had presented all the evidence, including the contradictory stories told by Michael and Seamus.

  When I mentioned the email link between Michael and James, my father said, "James has connections all over the world. It makes sense that he would have one where he grew up. Michael probably didn't admit to you that he had contact with James because he was suspicious of you. Then, after your meeting they exchanged emails. If Michael is in the pay of James he isn't going to say bad things about him."

  And he might have hired the thug in London to scare Seamus away from us.

  Arrow was going to talk to Elma that afternoon. We agreed that Arrow would tell her the Seamus version of events, but not the Michael version. Three reasons. There was no sense bad-mouthing Ned to Elma, especially since he was dead. There was no sense bad-mouthing Elma to herself by implying that something torrid had happened between her and Dickie Stewart. The third reason, of course, was that the Seamus version suited our purposes. We needed Elma's shares to keep James from taking over Dionysus.

  When we had finished our discussion my father indicated that he had something to say. He cleared his throat and looked uncharacteristically uncomfortable. He said, "You two did a good job—certainly beyond the requirements of your job, Arrow—and Karl, you're not even an employee. You're just trying to help your old man, which I appreciate."

  No wonder he was uncomfortable. He had never spoken to me like this before.

  "I don't ask anybody to do anything I wouldn't do," he continued, "especially if it places them in physical danger. With that in mind, I'm telling both of you to stay away from James. From now on I will fight him from behind a phalanx of lawyers. They get paid to do that sort of thing."

  I escorted Arrow out to her car, wishing that I could indeed stay away from James. As she prepared to get in she said, "In spite of our personal differences and the problems we ran into, I really enjoyed the trip."

  "Me too," I said.

  "I just wanted you to know that because I don't suppose we'll be seeing each other again soon."

  "We'll always have Wick," I said, and immediately regretted speaking so glibly.

  "I think I'd rather forget Wick."

  Arrow looked into my eyes for a long count, during which I had a compulsion to spout some inanity just to break the silence, but I restrained myself. Then she hugged me, a hard, committed hug. I hugged her back. She got into her car, started the engine and drove away without looking back.

  I walked back into the castle to speak to Luz. I hadn't ta
lked to her since before the trip. Jacie intercepted me in the living room, which looks out onto the street.

  "Arrow really likes you," she said, and I knew she'd been watching us. "It's too bad you are...the way you are. You would make a nice couple."

  Was Jacie trying to protect her turf by matching up Arrow? Or was she being sincere. I wasn't sure, but Jacie had changed. For one thing, she had never been so cordial to me before.

  I decided to go to Emerge that afternoon. It wasn't Tuesday, my usual day, but I had missed Tuesday. And they could use the help any day and every day. Besides, I wanted to see Esther. Maybe seeing her would help me clear my head.

  Chapter 26 HOMEBOYS

  The building with the Tartan Enterprises logo on it was up the hill from Market Street. I wondered whether Tartan owned the building or was just the major lessee. If James considered San Francisco real estate to be a good investment, I knew he'd be in it. Tartan occupied the highest floors of the building, a dubious perk in a city that had been ravaged by strong earthquakes as recently as 1989.

  The first thing I discovered upon exiting the elevator was that Tartan actually had some female employees, including the efficient receptionist who greeted me. In addition to assisting walk-in visitors, she answered telephone calls and pounded on a computer keyboard at something approaching the speed of light.

  When I told her I had an appointment with Mr. Buchanan she called his suite and then directed me to a private elevator, not available to ordinary mortals. It whisked me to the top floor of the building, where I was greeted by Stan.

  "It's great to see you, Karl," he said, shaking my hand. "Did you have a good flight up?"

  He was dressed in a dark suit, similar to what James' assistants wore at the casino, and I was glad I had worn my one and only suit for the occasion.

  I resisted the impulse to voice one of several retorts that came to me and merely said, "Marvelous flight. You're looking very professional today."

  Stan led the way into by far the largest office I have ever seen. It was in the northeast corner of the building and the two outside walls were solid glass. The view encompassed both the Golden Gate Bridge and the Oakland Bay Bridge, as well as part of the San Francisco skyline and many other points of interest.

  James was sitting at a gargantuan desk, talking on the telephone. He wore a sport shirt, unbuttoned down to his chest hair. Executive privilege.

  He hung up the phone, trekked around the desk and shook my hand, saying, "Karl! You're looking good for a Monday morning. Thank you, Stan. I'll call you if I need you."

  Thus summarily dismissed, Stan exited the office, but not before stealing a backward glance at us. I suspect he wanted to be in on the kill.

  "You haven't seen our quarters here, have you?" James asked, and then before I could reply he started taking me around his office, pointing out the view in each direction, of which he seemed to be inordinately proud. When he finished he said, "Not bad for a boy who grew up in Wick, eh?" and looked at me for my reaction.

  I said, "Aren't you afraid of going through the window?"

  Not only was the glass floor-to-ceiling, but it actually slanted outward at the top.

  James took a few steps back from the wall and ran limping at it, while I held my breath. He crashed into the window and I fully expected to see him disappear in a shower of broken glass and fall to the street below. However, he bounced back, grinning.

  "Satisfied?"

  "Don't try this at home."

  "Actually, it's more dangerous to get out of your bathtub at home."

  James waved me to a chair facing the glass wall and sat in a chair at a 45-degree angle to it. One of his male assistants brought us drinks without being asked, the clear drink that I had seen James with before and an iced tea for me. I must be in the database now.

  When we were settled, James said, "First, tell me about your trip to the UK."

  Taken aback by his brazenness, I was stuck for an answer. I half-stuttered, "You probably know more about it than I do."

  James laughed, almost choking on his drink. He said, "You've got to warn me when you're going to tell a joke. Look, Karl, I didn't get where I am today by beating around the beaver. Did Michael tell you he was working with me?"

  "No, but I figured it out. And I assume you had something to do with the hoodlum in Hyde Park."

  James frowned. "Michael assured me he was dependable. That's what happens when you delegate. I understand he botched the job. He wasn't supposed to get rough. I hope you and Arrow didn't get badly hurt." He looked at the bruise on my cheek, still evident, as if spotting it for the first time. "But I heard you sent him away screaming."

  "Arrow did."

  "That girl's got more balls than any of the testosterone-challenged boys on my staff. It's too bad she's a...girl. I'd love to have her work for me."

  "I'll tell her that. But I want you to promise me that no harm will come to Seamus."

  "Oh, Seamus is safe enough from me. There's no point in locking the barn door after the manure is gone. I assume he told you bad things about me in connection with the Dickie Stewart incident."

  "They weren't complimentary."

  "There was never any love lost between Seamus and me. But you can't believe everything he tells you—just as you can't believe everything Michael tells you."

  I saw no point in going into the details of what either one had told me so I kept quiet.

  "Next topic," James said. "I understand you got your baseball card."

  "I haven't actually received it yet, but I expect to soon. But I want to talk to you about that. Since I can't afford it, why don't we turn around and resell it."

  "It's your card so your decision. But I suspect that you won't get your money back with too quick a sale. It's got to age for a while, like fine wine. And as far as what you owe me, that's easily settled. All I need from you is one little favor."

  I had walked into his parlor and was entangled in his web, so what could I do but listen?

  James appeared to gather his thoughts and then said, "If I have any investment philosophy it's to stay flexible. The approach I take varies from company to company. With some companies, I'm content to take a minority interest. In other cases I've purchased a controlling interest in a privately held company. The trickiest thing to do is to acquire a controlling interest in a publicly-held corporation because you usually have to battle management."

  "Why would you want to do that?" I asked.

  "There are companies with untapped potential. For example, they might have products that aren't being marketed properly. Profits could be greatly increased with the proper management. But when management is the problem, naturally the managers object to being replaced. That's why it's necessary to gain control of the company."

  "And you feel that Dionysus is one of these companies." Isn't that what he was leading up to?

  "Nothing against your father or Ned, God rest his soul." James sipped his drink through a straw and looked out at the ant-like cars crawling over the Bay Bridge. "As you know, I've known Ned all my life. I took an interest in Dionysus at the time Richard brought Ned into the company and I've watched it ever since.

  "I never invested in Dionysus because I wanted to stay at arms-length from Ned, for personal reasons. But he and Richard did a brilliant job of growing the company. However, recently I felt they missed some bets."

  "Is that when you started buying Dionysus stock?"

  "Yes. Once they began to make mistakes, any obligation I had to Ned to stay out of his life ended. In the corporate world, management has a responsibility to increase value for the shareholders. If I can do it better than the current management, then the shareholders benefit if I take over the company."

  "If," I said, marveling at his hubris. "But who's to decide if you're the knight in shining armor who is going to save the company?"

  "The shareholders. By voting either for me or the current management."

  "If you take over Dionysus, what is going t
o happen to my father, uh, Richard?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

  "Richard has had a good run. The package he would get would put him on Easy Street. His stock would be worth more because I would pay him a premium over the market for his shares. He would be able to recover his health without the stress of business to worry about. He would live a good life. I think his new wife..."

  "Jacie."

  "Jacie would appreciate it too. They would have more time together. They could travel..."

  "Sail off into the sunset. What about the other employees?"

  "We'll need all of them to keep Dionysus growing."

  "Including Arrow?"

  "Including Arrow. I've got big plans for her, believe it or not."

  I took a rain check on that one. "Okay, where do I fit into this?"

  James leaned forward in his chair and looked me in the eye. He had an unblinking stare that was hard for me to meet, the mesmerizing stare of the predator before it strikes.

  He said, "As you know, Richard opposes my takeover of Dionysus. However, even though he's your father you can rationalize letting me take over because it's for his own good. But without the votes of the stock he controls, there is only one way I can do it. I need to have Elma's proxy."

  Suddenly, there wasn't enough air in the room. I abruptly rose and walked around, trying to get my breathing under control. I walked back to my chair, but I didn't sit down.

  James watched me but he didn't move. He said, "Two weeks ago I thought I had her proxy nailed down. Then you and Arrow went on your pilgrimage and now I find that she has defected—or at the least is seriously wavering. Your job is to get her back in my camp. For reasons we've already gone over, this won't make you a traitor to Richard."

  My brain was spinning, but I had sense enough to think of one thing. "If you can't convince her, how can I? She used to be your girlfriend..."

  "We know each other too well. And we know how far we can trust each other. I need the intervention of a third person to plead my case. You have more credibility than anybody with her, except perhaps Arrow. And I don't..."