"What's wrong with it?" Bat asked. "You've just married an extravagantly beautiful, conspicuously devoted woman."
Jonas shrugged. "And the fourth-quarter figures are good, and we're going to sell a sponsor a TV production starring a cute little girl we've both screwed. So ... ?" He blew a loud sigh. "Maybe I don't want to go to Europe for just two or three weeks. What if I kept Angie over there for six weeks instead of two? What if we stayed six months? What would happen?"
"You'd go nuts, is what would happen," said Bat. "You're playing games with me."
"The point is, do you think you could handle it?" Jonas asked. "You got it all in your head now? You wouldn't pass up any more Phoenix Aircraft deals? You wouldn't make any TV shows we have to sponsor ourselves? You wouldn't make dumb changes in the Margit Show?"
"In other words, I wouldn't make any decisions while you're gone."
"Put it in a confrontational way. You always do. All right. I won't kid you. I'm tired. And I've got a great new wife. And maybe I haven't got unlimited time ahead of me. But I've gotta hurry home in two weeks because I'm not sure if you can run the whole thing for any longer than that. So, tell me the truth. You think you can handle it?"
Bat's face was flushed. "My idea was that we'd run it together for a while."
"That's what we've been doing."
"No," said Bat firmly, shaking his head. "I'm an errand boy. I'm sick of it."
"You haven't ever been a fuckin' errand boy!" Jonas yelled. "I can hire errand boys for twenty percent of what I pay you. I let you restructure the whole damned business. What the hell do you think you are?"
"I'm what you'd have been if your father had lived," said Bat. "A son who can make suggestions but had better not make decisions."
"You never pass up a chance to unload my father on me, do you? No— Let's get back to the question. Suppose I decide to retire at the age of fifty-five. You ready to run the whole goddamned works?"
"I— "
"I'm not saying without mistakes. I made mine. But are you ready to tell me, honestly, that you're ready to take over all the stuff we call CE and run it without me? I'll take your word on it."
"What do you think?" Bat asked.
"What I think isn't the point. Whatta you think?"
"You put me in— "
"Right," Jonas interrupted. "That's the whole point. I put you between a rock and a hard place. Which is where you'll be put every goddamned day when you run the business. And then you gotta be smart. And then you gotta have guts."
"You're smart, and you've got guts," said Bat tentatively.
Jonas shrugged. "I'm here. I haven't lost it."
Bat lifted his chin high. "I've got in me what you've got in you. You put it in my mother, and it came out in me."
"Okay. You think you're ready?"
Bat nodded, "Yeah. Right. I'm ready."
Jonas's faced hardened. "Well, I don't think you are — and the fact you think you are is the best proof you aren't. When my father died, I knew better than to think I was ready. But I didn't have any choice; I had to do it. Every day of my life, almost, I've wished I had the old man's help and advice. But not you. You throw it away. You resent it. You're an egomaniac, Bat."
"Where could I have acquired that gene?" Bat sneered.
Jonas reached for a bottle of bourbon. His hand trembled as he poured a shot. "Go on," he said. "Go get your cock sucked. Before I leave for Europe with Angie, we're gonna settle this. Tomorrow. Christmas day or no Christmas day, we're going to settle it. We're going to have a modus operandi, you and me. We're gonna be father and son. Or you're through."
4
Not long after midnight, Jonas led Angie to their bedroom; then Bat led Toni to theirs.
The room was warm, and Toni was not reluctant to undress, except as always for her panties. They had a bottle of Courvoisier in the room, and Toni poured them tiny final drinks as Bat stirred the fire and put on more wood. They lay down side by side in bed. Only when a blanket was pulled up over them did Toni slip the panties down and lay them on the nightstand. Bat laid his thirty-eight snub-nose Smith & Wesson revolver on the nightstand on his side of the bed.
"Are things that bad?" she asked.
"No. Just insurance."
"I don't want to have to think about it now," she said.
For an hour they thought of nothing but each other, and then they went to sleep.
She went to sleep. Only rarely did Bat suffer any pain in his old wound scars, but occasionally he did. It happened after he had lifted too much weight with his right arm. He had lain sleepless in this house once before after lifting luggage off an airplane out on the landing strip. He'd done it again today, and he felt sharp twinges in the permanently damaged musculature of his chest.
He slipped off the bed and took a heavy shot of brandy.
Sitting in a chair, he stared at the flickering darts of flame rising from the red-hot crumbling coals on the andirons. He had said nothing to Toni about the confrontation he'd had with his father. He wouldn't, not until they were away from here. Fort Lauderdale ... Maybe.
A twinge stabbed him. Dave Amory had them, too. He'd been hit in the leg. It was the price you paid for being an infantryman, Dave said. And he said, too—
Maybe for the price you bought something. Bat remembered nights in Belgium when they had sensed something was wrong, just sensed it, without any real evidence. One night he had rolled quietly out of his foxhole, two minutes before an infiltrating German had struck into it with a dagger. The German died because an infantryman developed a sense— Oh, yeah. The Kraut was not an infantryman.
Like that night ... Bat heard nothing. But he sensed something. Something was goddamned wrong, just like it had been the night the German struck into an empty foxhole with a rune-marked SS ceremonial dagger.
He didn't take time to pull on his pants. He didn't have a robe. He grabbed the thirty-eight and slipped quietly out of the bedroom, wearing only slingshot underpants.
The household was asleep. It was dark. A few smoldering coals glowed in the big fieldstone fireplace. No electric lights burned. The silence was complete. Even so. Bat needed only a minute outside his room to confirm his suspicion that something was horribly wrong— The front door was open.
5
Jonas slipped a nitroglycerine tablet under his tongue. He clutched his chest.
The man in the brown overcoat, wearing a brown hat, holding a small-caliber silenced automatic pistol leveled on Jonas and Angie, shrugged and said, "Maybe God's gonna do it for me. Maybe I have to do nothing."
"I can make you a better deal," Jonas whispered hoarsely.
"You'd be surprised how many men offer me a better deal," said the man. He was Malditesta. "The first time I bought that, I'd be the dead man." He shook his head. "I already made the deal."
Angie was naked. She had thrown herself across Jonas, to block a shot. She was sobbing.
"What's your deal?" Jonas asked. "Just me? Not her?"
Malditesta shook his head. "Just you, Mr. Cord. Not even your son."
"You'll do it and leave?" Jonas asked. "Can I believe that?"
"I am paid for one," said the hit man. "If they want another one, they pay again. And— I'm a pro. It won't hurt. If the little lady will get out of the way, I can make it very easy — easier than that heart attack you seem to be havin'. Push the little lady off, Mr. Cord."
"Do what he says, Angie," Jonas pleaded.
"NO!" she shrieked.
"You're a businessman, Mr. Cord," said Malditesta. "You understand, it's nothing personal. This is my business. It's what I do. It's how I make my living. A man has to make his living doing what he can, what he knows how to do. This is strictly a business deal. You can understand that. Make her understand it."
"Angie," Jonas whispered. "Get away. Let him do it. What he says is true."
Angie shook her head and clung more tightly to Jonas.
"It can be both of you, if that's what it has to be," said Maldites
ta.
6
"Like shit!"
Malditesta stiffened, then glanced behind him. "Mr. Cord Junior," he grunted. "With a gun pointed at my back. Okay. I've still got one pointed at your father and his new wife. You think you can drop me before I drop one of them? Or both? Even with a slug coming through me I can pull this trigger once or twice. Standoff, huh?"
Angie rolled off Jonas and lurched to her feet. She stood halfway between Jonas and Malditesta. "No standoff," she said. 'The only one you can kill now is me."
Jonas scrambled off the bed.
"No!" Bat yelled. "Stay behind her. He won't shoot her."
"You think so?" Malditesta asked Bat. "And who's this? We're attractin' quite a crowd here. With another gun, yet."
Toni had come through the door and was edging her way around Bat, to confront Malditesta from the side. She did have a gun: her .30-30 Winchester.
"So," muttered Malditesta. "I guess the question is: Just how important is the new Mrs. Cord? I guess you're Miss Maxim," he said to Toni. "You better point that rifle down. It might go off. And if anybody's gun goes off, the new Mrs. Cord is dead. Her at least. Like I asked, how important is she to you folks?"
Bat pressed the snub-nose thirty-eight against Malditesta's lower back. "How important is your spinal cord?" he asked. "You kill her, I'm not gonna kill you. I'm gonna put a thirty-eight slug right through your spine. You'll spend the rest of your life in the Nevada pen and you won't be able to walk or piss. I'm not going to kill you, Malditesta. I'm gonna cripple you. You ever figure on that?"
Malditesta moaned, as if he were already in agony. "I drop my gun, you let me go?" he asked. "It was a business deal, strictly."
"Sure." said Bat. "A business deal."
Malditesta hesitated for a full half minute, as if running past in his mind whatever alternatives he might have; and then he dropped his pistol to the floor.
Bat grabbed for a half-full, heavy champagne bottle that stood on a table behind him. He raised it and brought it down hard on Malditesta's head.
Malditesta dropped to his knees, then sprawled on the floor. "You ... made a deal," he moaned.
"I lied," said Bat as he raised the bottle and struck again.
7
"And he lied," said Toni as she pulled a revolver from inside Malditesta's coat.
Jonas sat on the bed. He breathed heavily.
"We'll get a doctor," said Angie as she covered herself with a flowered silk wrapper.
"No. I don't need a doctor. I needed the pill. That's all I need. You've seen me take those before. The nitroglycerine stops the pain."
"Pain you shouldn't have," she said. "You don't need— "
"We don't need an investigation either," said Bat grimly. He nodded toward the lifeless body of Malditesta. "Uh— You realize that nobody knows but the three of us."
"Whoever sent him knows," said Angie.
"And will be the last to call the police to help find him," said Bat. "I'll drag him out in the desert and bury him," he said. "No one is going to be looking for him. No one else is awake. There are no witnesses but us."
"I'll help," said Angie.
"Then we'll have to get rid of his car," said Bat. "He must have had one. Drive it fifty miles or so and abandon it."
"You can do that in the morning," said Jonas.
8
Bat and Angie dragged the body of Malditesta by a rope looped under his arms. Toni carried their tools: a pickaxe and a spade. Against the cold wind, all three wore sheepskin jackets and blue jeans, boots and gloves and hats.
The moon was setting. In half an hour it would be dark. They walked as the moon dropped toward the distant mountains and covered most of a mile before Bat stopped and began to chop at the frozen earth with the pickaxe. Frost had penetrated only a few inches, and he did not take long to dig a shallow grave.
Toni knelt over the hit man and went through his pockets. He carried no identification.
When the grave was ready they rolled Malditesta into it. Bat filled the hole, and together they shuffled over it until it was all but indistinguishable from the level desert around it. As they walked away the wind had already begun to scatter sand and dust over the grave and over their footprints.
9
Back inside the house they found Jonas sitting in the living room. He had put wood on the embers, and a fire was blazing.
"I'm hungry," he muttered. "And don't stare at the bottle. I'm entitled to a nip. The doctors say so. Bourbon helps reduce tension — and tension was what caused the pain."
"I'll see what's available in the kitchen," said Angie. "Anybody else want a snack?"
Bat and Toni shook their heads. Bat poured two Scotches.
"Well," said Jonas. "What I said had to be settled ... is settled."
Bat stood beside his father's chair and put his hand on his shoulder. "How do you want to settle it?" he asked.
"I'm afraid I've missed something," said Toni. "What are you settling?"
Jonas looked up at her. She stood by the fireplace in her jeans and wool shirt. "If I'm gonna talk business in front of you, I need to know how it stands between you and Bat."
"We're going to be married," said Bat. "We would have told you before we went back to New York."
Jonas smiled and nodded. "That's the best news I've had for a long time. So ... Tonight Angie offered her life to save mine. The least I can do for her is try to keep myself alive as long as possible. What the doctors tell me is I have to avoid tension and too much exertion. Well, you can't ride herd on a business empire without tension and exertion."
Bat moved over to stand beside Toni. He took her hand.
"You said I made you an errand boy," said Jonas. "Well, I never made you an errand boy. But I admit I kept a thumb on you. So, as from tonight the thumb is off. I'm taking Angie to Europe. I don't know how long we'll stay or when we'll be back. We may be gone six months. I don't know. When we do come back, I'll keep my nib out." He stopped, and a wry smile came to his face. "Out of whatever's left."
Bat, too, smiled, and he shook his head. "You never give up, do you?"
Jonas shrugged. "You're gonna have your chance. It's what you wanted, isn't it? I don't think you're entirely ready for it, but ... well, neither was I."
"Stick your nib in one more time, Jonas," said Toni. "Order him to take a vacation."
Jonas pointed a finger at Bat. "You do that, son," he said. "I'm still chairman of the board, and I'm telling you: You take a vacation."
"As soon as— "
"Not as soon as, goddammit! My old man wasn't indispensable. I'm not, either. And neither are you."
Bat sighed. "There are things that— "
"Bat," Jonas interrupted firmly. "Marry Toni. Take a nice honeymoon. I mean, really nice: out of touch with the phones." He paused. For a moment he seemed to have difficulty with his voice. "You're my son. You're more important to me than things that might go to hell while you're away. I'm sorry I didn't say it before now, but ... you see ..." His voice broke. "I love you, son." His eyes shifted to Toni. "I love you, too. And Angie. Bat— It's not a business order. It's a father-to-son order."
"All right," said Bat softly. "And— And, I hope you understand— No, why should you understand? I'll say it, flat out. I love you, too."
Jonas grinned. "We've just broken a Cord family tradition." He laughed through tears.
EPILOGUE
JONAS AND ANGIE RETURNED FROM EUROPE FOR the grand opening show in the Follies Cabaret of the Cord InterContinental Vegas Hotel.
The headliners opening night were Maurice Chevalier, Glenda Grayson, and Margit Little. The theme of the show was Folies-Bergère, and the revue had been designed under the personal supervision of Paul Derval, owner and manager of the Folies in Paris.
Never before had so many showgirls appeared on a nightclub stage. Never before in America had so many showgirls performed in such elaborate costumes and yet so nearly nude. In one scene the showgirls swam in an onstage pool. In
another some of them ice skated on real ice.
Margit performed a ballet solo. Though her leotards were high cut, they were modest by comparison with anything else in the show. Her television show was opening in October, and Bat would take no chance of damaging her television career.
Chevalier was his usual charming self with cane and straw hat, dancing a little but mostly singing his signature songs, such as "Valentina," "C'est Magnifique," and his new hit "Thank Heaven for Little Girls."
Glenda Grayson did her monologue in the first half of the show, coming on a bare stage in the tightly focused beam of a spotlight, wearing her black hat, a black corselette, showing the white skin of her upper thighs above dark stockings held up by red garters. She sang, but mostly she kept the audience roaring with laughter with a string of original one-liners. She returned to one of her favorite lines — "Y' wouldn't b'lieve it!" She finished with a line she had killed and now revived — "Golda, change your name. Please!" That line had always been poignant. The audience, who knew something of her history, was moved by it.
"It's been said of a great comic that he can make you laugh, then make you cry," said Jo-Ann, who sat at the table with Bat and Toni, Jonas and Angie. This was her first night out since the birth of her daughter.
For Glenda's second appearance, she was delivered on the stage in the middle of the finale, by a three-quarter-scale helicopter that descended over the audience at their tables and landed on the stage — on wires of course but realistic enough to draw loud applause just for the helicopter.
Four young male dancers lifted her from the helicopter and put her down on the stage. She was wearing the costume that had made her poison for television: the fifty strings of tiny, glittering black beads cascading from her shoulders over her body, down to her ankles. Only now, she wore nothing underneath; the thousands of beads fell over her body, not over a sheer black gown. Her modesty, if any, was protected by the tight control of the light that touched her. Her audience understood she was naked; but peer and squint though they might, they got no clear view of her. As she moved, the light dimmed, it changed color; lighting technicians had worked for two weeks to achieve the effect.
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