Chance nodded. His mind felt numb, chiUed to the point where thought was impossible.
"I just wanted you to understand, to save us mutual embarrassment."
Chance said tightly, "You're aware that John has akeady cosigned my notes for one million two himdred and twenty-five thousand?"
The lawyer nodded.
"And that if the hotel is never finished, not opened, those loans are as good as lost, that the security would be nearly worthless?"
The lawyer nodded again.
"Then it seems to me very poor business for the Kern estate not to go ahead as John had planned. It's going to take another two million before we can open but, if I'm a judge, our future earnings, based on what is being made by the Peacock and the other places, should make it a very profitable investment."
Wellman rubbed his bald spot. "Apparently I did not make myself clear. There is nothing that I, as trustee for the estate, can do about it, no matter whether I agree with you or not. The will is simple and plain. Mrs. Kern receives an income of two thousand dollars a month for the rest of her life, the use of the Reno home and the Fallon ranch. At her death the estate is divided among several schools and church organizations."
Chance said, "When was this will signed?"
"Almost five years ago."
"Long before John agreed to back me in the hotel. I don't think he intended it this way."
"I'm certain he did not." The lawyer stood up. "But there's nothing you or I can do about it now."
"No." Chance saw that the lawyer could do nothing. It was up to him. Somewhere he had to raise two million dollars.
He spent the night reviewing the list of men who had attended his last meeting with Kern. In the morning he went down to the bank and talked to Bert Parkman. Parkman was courteous but not too helpful. "As long as John was guaranteeing your loans, we could continue them, but frankly our
loan committee has the distinct feeling that Vegas is being overbuilt."
Chance shrugged. "Ten years ago they told me that another downtown gambling club would fail. They said the war would ruin Vegas."
The banker looked at him curiously. "I like you, Elson. I liked you the first time we met at John's ranch, and I know-that you are honest, that you actually believe this hotel will succeed."
"John thought so. I'd take his judgment in preference to mine, any day."
Parkman smiled. "I knew John a long time, and he was one of the most successful men I've known, but I'll tell you a secret about John. Too often he allowed himself to be governed in a deal not by his head but by his heart. It was a matter of pride with him that Nevada money should build the biggest hotel on the Strip. He beheved that we were allowing the state to shp away from us, and he also beheved in you. Maybe John was right, but as a banker I can't see my way clear to risking three million dollars in an enterprise that I know is speculative to say the least."
"What about the loans John's already guaranteed? His estate will be called upon to pay those if I fail to make the payments."
"I know that."
"I should think that knowledge would affect the decision." "You mean that I should throw good money after bad?" Chance was losing his temper and fighting to keep from showing it. "Mr. Parkman, those men who are putting up the money for the other places aren't all stupid. They are investing miUions in the future of this state. Yet you, and the men like you, aren't willing to risk one nickel against your future. And if you do lose full control of Nevada, you have no one but yourselves to blame. May I make a suggestion? I can see why the bank can't continue my construction loans, but can't we bring a group of John's friends together and explain the situation? Can't we form a new corporation to go ahead? I'd be willing to shave my holdings a good deal to make this possible."
Parkman was thoughtful. **It doesn't hurt to try. You would lose control, of course."
Chance thought, "No matter where you turn there is always a squeeze." Kern had never been grasping, but John Kern was dead.
His talk with the banker led to a number of meetings. He pointed out finally that they need not actually put up cash if they would only step in and guarantee his construction loans, as Kern had.
As time passed, he grew desperate. Under his contract with the Blatt Brothers he had to meet material bills and labor costs at the end of each week, and his bank balance was alarmingly low. It dawned on him finally that they were staUing, unwilling to give an outright No, yet having no real intention of taking over.
He had a final meeting with six men in the bank's board room. The discussion dragged on for over an hour with suggestions and countersuggestions, none of which made much sense.
He stood up. His voice was moderated, his words carefully chosen. "Years ago John Kern set me up as a kind of listening post in Las Vegas. He realized something which none of you seem to care about, that the business of this state was passing into the hands of strangers.
"I tried to keep faith vdth him. I have always felt a closer kinship with him and the Reno interests than I have Vidth the men who are building Vegas. I guess that feeling died with Kern. You people are actually jealous of Vegas. From now on I'll get the money where I can."
Parkman said, "Are you talking about racket money?''
"Not necessarily. IH try the other southern club-owners. I've tried to avoid cutting the place up into points as most of the other hotek are. I'll have to now."
"I hate to see it. Chance." Parkman was genuinely distressed. "If I had enough of my ov;^ I'd guarantee your loans myself."
Chance shook hands with him. He nodded to the others. He turned and walked slowly from the bank. He was through with Reno.
^/ut^ite^ f^
Chance was rapidly building up a hate for bankers and insurance-company representatives. Never before had he had any real dealings with the men who control the purse strings and make the loans for the world.
He went to Cahfomia banks. He flew East to Hartford and Philadelphia, learning that hotel buildings in Las Vegas were one of the few types of business property that the great insurance companies had no interest in.
He stopped in Oklahoma City on his way back and spent a day with Teddy Blatt. Blatt was sympathetic but not helpful, and Chance caught the Vegas plane with the reahzation that unless he raised the money in southern Nevada he was through.
How had Benji Danzig raised the money from the Texas bankers? Had he held a gun to their heads? At the moment Chance felt that he too could use a gun. It wasn't the fear of losing everything he and Doc and Dutch had amassed. Money could be made again. It was the fear of losing the hotel itself. To him it was not merely steel and stone and mortar. It was a kind of shrine. He knew now that Danzig had had the same unreasoning feeling for the Peacock.
Judy met him at the airport. The sun had darkened her skin and it seemed to him that she looked better than when he left, but her face was still too thin and there was a drawn look about her eyes.
She came into his arms, kissing him, holding him tight, her body against him. "Chance, what's happened?"
He told her on the way out to the ranch. Doc and Dutch were both there. They were no longer working at the restaurant.
"It boils down to this," he said. "We've got to raise two milhon by the last of next week or we're finished."
Dutch looked glum. Doc was studying the rug between
his carefully polished shoes. He looked up finally. *'Well, we hit this town with nothing, so, we leave it with nothing."
Dutch said, 'Xeave it?^ His voice was almost a squawk. Joe was standing in the doorway, not understanding, but catching a certain amount of panic from Dutch.
"Fm not through yet." Chance's voice was tight. He'd held all this within him for a long time. At least it was a rehef to be home, to have someone to talk to. "I'm going to hit every club-owner in town. I'm going to finish this thing if I have to cut it up a hundred ways."
The first two men he talked to were encouraging. They were definitely interested. This was difi^erent from talking to
bankers and hard-eyed insurance executives. These men believed in Vegas. They made no promises, but they told him to come back in a couple of days after they had had a chance to think, a chance to consult associates.
And then it was as if a curtain were pulled down, as if someone had given orders that he was not to have a nickel out of Vegas. The men who had been so cordial turned elusive.
He went to see his lawyer, slumping tiredly beside Morton Hoffner's desk. "I don't get it," he told the attorney. "It's as if someone passed the word, as if someone is out to get me."
Hoffner was watching him. Hoffner said, "Maybe there is."
''Who?"
Hoffner shrugged. "You should know that better than I. Who would want to get you?"
"CeUini." The word leaped into Chance's consciousness. Cellini had been aroimd Vegas increasingly in the last two months. Chance had heard that the man had purchased a ranch house north of the new Charleston addition. "But why in hell would Cellini want to get me? He wouldn't stir things up just for the hell of it." He said this aloud without believing it. He was in no state at the moment to stand an attack from Cellini or from anyone else.
Hoffner looked at him closely. "The other hotels are finding money. Chance."
"Racket money."
The lawyer shrugged again. "Does it make a difference 263
whose hand the money is in? It was all printed at the same place."
Chance started to say, "It makes a difference to me," and then he stopped. He had told Kern that the Syndicate would never really take over Vegas because it was getting too big. What was he gaining, kicking away a chance to finish his hotel? Other places had racket boys for silent partners and seemed to be getting along okay.
He looked at Hoffner with a new awareness. "Would you know where to find some of this money?"
Hoffner sensed the suspicion. He had gone to a great deal of trouble to cloak his connection with the mobs in Vegas, and he did not want to come out into the open now. "I don't know personally." He chose his words with care. "But in this town it's impossible not to know men who would know. Should I drop the word around?"
Chance thought for a long moment, then he nodded. "Pass the word. I might make a deal, if the terms were right.*' He stood glaring down at the lawyer. "Remember that, if the terms were right."
He turned then and went quietly out of the office. Hoffner sat for long minutes without moving. He felt no elation. In fact he felt a certain sadness. In an oblique way, he had taken a personal satisfaction that Chance had succeeded in doing what he had lacked the strength to do, to stand off the demands of organized crime.
Slowly he picked up the phone and dialed an unlisted number. A man's heavy voice answered and he said, "Cellini, Elson was just here. He's ready to deal, if the terms are right, but don't try and push him too hard. He might throw the whole thing in the ditch ff he gets pushed."
He replaced the phone then. He wished he was a thousand miles away, he wished he had never heard of Las Vegas. Chance would get a call, and the hotel would be built, but something had gone out of the town, something, he felt, that would never return. Cellini was moving in, gradually, carefully, studying each move, not making one mistake.
Chance got his call the next morning. He got it while 264
they were seated at the breakfast table, Doc and Dutch and he, with Joe waiting on them.
He hadn't said anything to Doc or to Dutch. There was no use worrying them about possibihties until he knew what was going to happen.
It was a man's voice, rather high, like a deep-throated woman's. "Mr. Elson?" "That's right."
"I understand through mutual friends that you are looking for some money."
Chance gripped the phone with his hand imtil the knuckles showed white. This hadn't taken much time. They had watched him struggle, probably laughing to themselves as he twisted and turned, like a rat caught in a maze. He hated them, these nameless men.
"I might be." His tone was expressionless, showing none of the surge of his inner feeling. "If the rate is attractive."
There was a dry chuckle at the other end of the wire. "I'm
sure it will be. Would you care to discuss it, say over lunch?"
"Why not? I never lost anything yet by talking."
The man laughed. "I'll expect you at twelve-thirty. I'm in
Room DA at the Peacock. The name is Smith, Horace Smith."
Doc glanced at Chance when he returned to the table,
and then looked hard, noting the grayness under Chance's
tan.
"What's happened? It wasn't Judy?"
"No." Chance picked up his napkin and sat down. "Just a man who wants to advance the dough to finish the hotel." Doc started to grin, then sobered. "Something's the matter. You feehng okay?"
The muscles across Chance's stomach were knotted. He wasn't certain that he could eat. "I'm all right."
Doc was not satisfied. "What is it then? Who is this guy?"
"His name is Smith, Horace Smith. He has some clients
in the East who are wiUing to invest in The Desert Queen.
It's racket money. Doc. Don't you understand? Racket
money."
Dutch's slow mind was not grasping the meaning of 265
Chance's voice. But Doc did. Doc half came out of his chair. "Take it easy, kid."
"Sure," said Chance, "I'll take it easy, and I'll take their Goddamn bloody money. What else can I do? I got you into this, and I got Dutch into it, and I got Kern's estate involved to the tune of a million and a quarter, but I'm not kidding myself, Doc, and I'm not kidding you. I've sold out. I'm going to finish that hotel if I have to wipe the blood off every bill they dehver."
"All right," said Doc. "Let's don't get emotional." He never had expected to use those words to Chance. Chance was the one who always had himself under control.
"I'm not," said Chance. He forced himself to drink some coffee.
"I'm going to take the dough. Doc. I'm going to do the thing I've accused other club-owners of doing. And do you know what I'm going to do then? I'm going to beat the hell out of them."
Doc stared at him. Doc said, "Easy, boy. I'm not criticizing you for grabbing money where you can get it. God knows you tried everything else, and I know what the hotel means to you."
"And to you."
Doc shook his head. "Not to me, or to Dutch. To us it's merely a gravy train, a way to make money. To you it's everything. It means that you've done the impossible, that you've fought your way from a rag-assed kid in an orphanage to the top. It means as much to you as the Presidency means to some men. But don't try any fast ones. These boys you're deahng with, whoever they are, are masters of a fast shuffle. They'll stop you, and they'll get you. It's bad enough to have them as partners. Don't cross them. Just remember Danzig."
Chance thought of Doc's words as he sat opposite Horace Smith in the Hving room of the man's suite. Smith was a distinct surprise. He stood a bare inch over five feet. He was middle-aged and the fine hair on top of his rather small head was thinning.
But the eyes behind the gold-rimmed glasses were cold and
watchful as a hawk's and he never took them from Chance's face as he talked.
His voice was cultured, with a trace of a New England accent. Chance learned later that he had graduated from an old Eastern university with a major in business administration.
He said, "I've been wanting to meet you. I was quite interested in some of the ideas you employed in your restaurant. They showed both understanding of the general public and imagination. And I have full confidence that you will manage to achieve the same atmosphere at The Desert Queen. If I didn't, I wouldn't have advised my principals to make this offer."
Chance thought how the racketeering activities had changed. Horace Smith had probably never canied a gun in his life. He was an employee, a highly trained employee, a specialist in finance and business management. The Danzigs of the earher era were as passe as Hombone and the gamblers from Tonopah and Goldf
ield.
"I understand that you need two million to complete the building and open for business."
"As near as we can figure, yes."
"The contract is cost plus."
Chance smiled faintly. "And the materials are being bought in the gray market. Still, with my future partners I don't believe that we need have too much fear either that the contract v/ill not be completed or that the materials needed will not be forthcoming."
There was a wintry smile around Smith's thin lips. "I see we understand each other."
"Not quite," said Chance. "Two miUion is the figure needed for completion, but there is another item, a bank loan for one million two hundred and fifty thousand. I want this paid off."
Smith looked a little startled.
"It v/as guaranteed by a personal friend. His estate is liable and I do not feel free to take in any outsiders until that obligation is cleared."
It was obvious from Smith's expression that this was an 267
unexpected development. He played thoughtfully with his salad fork, his eyes on the table before him. "If you will excuse me for a few minutes/' He rose and went through the door into the bedroom, closing it behind him. Chance guessed that he had gone to phone. He sat back, looking around the room.
He had no real idea how the Peacock was doing under its new management, but to him it seemed to have lost a certain character with Danzig gone. Now, it was just another resort hotel, differing from its Palm Springs and Florida brethren only in the fact that one large room on the main floor was given over to gambling.
For all Chance knew, this very room might have been Danzig's own. The man had been so dominant that even now you seemed to feel his presence in the place.
Horace Smith came quietly back. He sat down at the table, helped himself to more crab Louis from the chafing dish, and ate as if there were nothing but food on his mind.
"Wonderful chmate you have out here. A few days of sun always loosens my bones and takes the ache out of my muscles."
Chance Elson Page 28