The Scarletti Inheritance

by Ludlum, Robert

  Looking at the articles shored up Chancellor’s undermined confidence but the effect was short lived. He could hear faintly through the office door the ring of his secretary’s telephone and it immediately brought back the memory of his mother’s angry call to him. She’d been trying to find Ulster since yesterday morning.

  Chancellor picked up the intercom. ‘Try my brother’s home again. Miss Nesbit.’

  ‘Yes sir.’

  He had to find Ulster. His mother was adamant. She insisted on seeing him before the afternoon was over.

  Chancellor sat down in his chair and tried to breathe properly again. The masseur had told him it was good exercise while sitting down.

  He took a deep breath, pushing his stomach out as far as possible. The middle button of his suit coat broke from the thread and fell on the soft carpet, bouncing first on the chair between his legs. Damn!

  Miss Nesbit rang him on the intercom. ‘Yes.’

  The maid at your brother’s house said he was on his way over to see you, Mr Scarlett.’ Miss Nesbit’s voice conveyed her pride in accomplishment.

  ‘You mean he was there all the time?’

  ‘I don’t know sir. Miss Nesbit was hurt. Twenty agonizing minutes later Ulster Stewart Scarlett arrived.

  ‘Good God! Where have you been? Mother’s been trying to reach you since yesterday morning! We’ve called everywhere.’

  ‘I’ve been out at Oyster Bay. Did any of you think of calling there?’

  ‘In February? Of course not .. Or maybe she did, I don’t know.’

  ‘You couldn’t have reached me anyway. I was in one of the cottages.’

  ‘What the hell were you doing there? I mean, in February.’’

  ‘Let’s say taking stock, brother mine .. Nice office, Chance. I can’t remember when I was here last.’

  ‘About three years ago.’

  ‘What are all those gadgets?’ asked Ulster, pointing at the desk.

  ‘Newest equipment. See… Here’s an electric calendar that lights up on specific days to remind me of meetings. This is an intercommunicator setup with eighteen offices in the building. Now, right here a private wire to…’

  ‘Never mind. I’m impressed. I haven’t much time. I thought you might like to know… I may get married.’

  ‘What!… Ulster, my God in heaven! You! Married! You’re going to get married?’

  ‘Seems to be a general request,’’

  ‘Who, for God’s sake!’

  ‘Oh, I’ve whittled the numbers down, sport. Don’t fret. She’ll be acceptable.’

  Chancellor eyed his brother coldly. He was prepared to be told that Ulster had chosen some Broadway trollop from a Ziegfield show, or, perhaps, one of those weird female writers in black sweaters and men’s haircuts who were always at Ulster’s parties.

  ‘Acceptable to whom?’

  ‘Well, let’s see, I’ve tried out most of them.’

  ‘I’m not interested in your sex life? Who?’

  ‘Oh, but you should be. Most of your wife’s friends—married and otherwise—are lousy lays.’

  ‘Just tell me who you intend honoring, if you don’t mind?’

  ‘What would you say to the Saxon girl?’

  ‘Janet!… Janet Saxon!’ Chancellor cried out with delight.

  ‘I think she’d do,’ murmured Ulster.

  ‘Do! Why, she’s wonderful! Mother will be so pleased! She’s just terrific!’

  ‘She’ll do,’ Ulster was strangely quiet.

  ‘Ulster, I can’t tell you how pleased I am. You’ve asked her, of course.’ It was a statement.

  ‘Why, Chance, how can you think that?… I wasn’t sure she’d pass inspection.’

  ‘I see what you mean. Of course… But I’m sure she will. Have you told Mother? Is that why she’s calling so hysterically?’

  ‘I’ve never seen Mother hysterical. That should be quite a sight.’

  ‘Really, you should phone her right away.’

  ‘I will. Give me a minute—I want to say something. It’s quite personal.’ Ulster Scarlett sat carelessly down in a chair in front of his brother’s desk.

  Chancellor, knowing that his brother rarely wanted to be personal took his seat apprehensively. ‘What is it?’

  ‘I was pulling your leg a few minutes ago. I mean about the lays.’

  ‘I’m relieved to hear that!’

  ‘Oh, don’t mistake me—I’m not saying it isn’t true—just tasteless of me to discuss it… I wanted to see you get upset.

  ‘Take it easy, I had a reason—I think it makes my case stronger.’

  ‘What case?’

  ‘It’s why I went out to the island… To do a lot of thinking… The aimless, crazy days are coming to an end. Not overnight, but they’re slowly fading out.’

  Chancellor looked intently at his brother. ‘I’ve never heard you talk like this before.’

  ‘You do a lot of thinking in a cottage by yourself. No telephones, no one barging in on you… Oh, I’m not making any big promises I can’t keep. I don’t have to do that. But I want to try… I guess you’re the only person I can turn to.’

  Chancellor Scarlett was touched. ‘What can I do?’

  ‘I’d like to get some kind of position. Informal, at first. Nothing regimented See if I can’t get interested in something.’

  ‘Of course! I’ll get you a job here! It’ll be simply great working together.’

  ‘No. Not here. That’d be just another gift. No. I want to do what I should have done a long time ago. Do what you did. Start right at home.’

  ‘At home. What kind of position is that?’

  ‘Figuratively speaking, I want to learn everything I can about us. The family. Scarlatti. It’s interests, business, that sort of thing… That’s what you did and I’ve always admired you for it.’

  ‘Did you really?’ Chancellor was very serious.

  ‘Yes, I did… I took a lot of papers out to the island with me. Reports and things I picked up at mother’s office. We do a lot of work with that bank downtown, don’t we? What in hell is the name?’

  ‘Waterman Trust. They execute all Scarlatti commitments. Have for years.’

  ‘Maybe I could start there—Informally. Couple of hours a day.’

  ‘No problem at all! I’ll arrange it this afternoon.’

  ‘Another thing. Do you think you might phone Mother—’

  ‘Just as a favor. Tell her I’m on my way over. I won’t bother to call. You might mention our discussion. Tell her about Janet, if you like.’ Ulster Scarlett stood up in front of his brother. There was something modestly heroic about him, about this errant who was trying to find his roots.

  The effect was not lost on Chancellor, who rose from his chair and extended his hand. ‘Welcome home, Ulster. It’s the start of a new life for you. Mark my words.’

  ‘Yes. I think it is. Not overnight, but it’s a beginning.’

  Elizabeth Scarlatti slammed the flat of her hand down on the desk as she rose from her chair.

  ‘You’re sorry? Sorry? You don’t fool me for a minute! You’re frightened out of your wits and well you should be! You damned fool! You ass! What did you think you were doing? Playing games! Little boy games!’

  Ulster Scarlett gripped the arm of the sofa in which he sat and repeated to himself over and over again, Heinrich Kroeger, Heinrich Kroeger.

  ‘I demand an explanation, Ulster!’

  ‘I told you. I was bored. Just plain bored.’

  ‘How involved are you?’

  ‘Oh, Christ! I’m not. All I did was give some money for a supply. A shipment. That’s all.’

  ‘Who did you give the money to?’

  ‘Just—guys. Fellows I met at clubs.’

  ‘Were they criminals?’

  ‘I don’t know. Who isn’t these days? Yes, I guess they were. They are. That’s why I’m out of it. Completely out of it!’

  ‘Did you ever sign anything?’

  ‘Jesus, no! You think I�
��m crazy?’

  ‘No. I think you’re stupid.’

  Heinrich Kroeger, Heinrich Kroeger. Ulster Scarlett rose from the sofa and lit a cigarette. He walked to the fireplace and threw the match on the crackling logs.

  ‘I’m not stupid, Mother,’ replied Elizabeth’s son.

  Elizabeth dismissed his pouting objection. ‘You only supplied money? You were never involved in any violence?’

  ‘No! Of course not!’

  ‘Then who was the ship’s captain? The man who was murdered?’

  ‘I don’t know! Look, I told you. I admit I was down there. Some guys said I’d get a kick out of seeing how the stuff came in. But that’s all, I swear it. There was trouble. The crew started fighting and I left. I got out of there as fast as I could.’

  ‘There’s nothing more? That’s the extent of it?’

  ‘Yes. What do you want me to do? Bleed from my hands and feet?’

  ‘That’s not very likely.’ Elizabeth walked around the desk and approached her son. ‘What about this marriage, Ulster. Is it, too, because you’re bored?’

  ‘I thought you’d approve.’

  ‘Approve? I wasn’t aware that my approval or disapproval concerned you.’

  ‘It does.’

  ‘I approve of the Saxon girl, but I doubt for the reasons Chancellor thinks I should. She seems to be a lovely girl from what I’ve seen of her… I’m not at all sure I approve of you… Do you love her?’

  Ulster Scarlett looked casually at his mother. ‘I think she’ll make a good wife.’

  ‘Since you avoid my question, do you think you’ll make a good husband?’

  ‘Why, Mother. I read in Vanity Fair where I was New York’s most eligible bachelor.’

  ‘Good husbands and eligible bachelors are often mutually exclusive… Why do you want to be married?’

  ‘It’s time I should be.’

  ‘I’d accept that answer from your brother. Not from you.’ Scarlett walked away from his mother to the windows. This was the moment. This was the moment he had planned, the moment he had rehearsed. He had to do it simply, say it simply. He’d pull it off and one day Elizabeth would recognize how wrong she was. He wasn’t stupid; he was brilliant.

  ‘I tried to tell Chance. I’ll try again with you. I do want to get married. I do want to get interested in something… You asked me if I love the girl. I think I do. I think I will. What’s important to me now is that I get straightened out.’ He turned from the window and faced his mother. ‘I’d like to learn what you built for us. I want to know what the Scarlatti family’s all about. Everyone seems to know but me. It’s a place to start, Mother.’

  ‘Yes, it’s a place to start. But I should caution you. When you speak of Scarlatti, don’t be under any illusions that your name guarantees you a voice in its management. You’ll have to prove your value before you receive any responsibility—or authority. In that decision, I am Scarlatti.’

  ‘Yes. You’ve always made that very clear.’

  Elizabeth Scarlatti circled the desk and sat down in her chair. ‘I’ve never been wedded to the idea that nothing changes. Everything changes. And it’s possible you have talent. You are the son of Giovanni Scarlatti and, perhaps, I was a damned fool to change the surname. It seemed right at the time. He was a genius… Go to work, Ulster. We’ll see what happens.’

  Ulster Stewart Scarlett walked down Fifth Avenue. The sun was out and he left his topcoat open. He smiled to himself. Several passersby noticed the large, striking-looking man with the open coat in the February cold. He was arrogantly handsome, obviously successful. Some men were born to it.

  Ulster Scarlett, seeing the looks of envy from the little people, agreed with the unspoken thoughts.

  Heinrich Kroeger was on schedule.

  The Scarletti Inheritance

  Chapter Ten

  When Horace Boutier, president of Waterman Trust Company, received Chancellor’s request for an indoctrination program for his brother Ulster, Boutier knew immediately who to make responsible.

  Third vice-president Jefferson Cartwright.

  Cartwright had been called on previously for duty with Ulster Scarlett and with good reason. He was, perhaps, the only executive at Waterman Trust who did not instantly irritate Ulster Scarlett. In a large measure this was due to Cartwright’s unorthodox approach to his work. Quite unbankerlike.

  For Jefferson Cartwright, a blondish, large, aging man, was a product of the playing fields of the University of Virginia and learned early in his career that the qualities that made him famous on the gridiron—and on the campus—served him extremely well in his chosen profession.

  Briefly these were to learn the formations so thoroughly that one was always in the right position at the right time when on the field and always to press an advantage with the sheer bulk of one’s size.

  Off the field was merely an extension of the playing principles. Learn the surface formulas, wasting as little time as possible on complexities beyond one’s grasp, and, again, impress everyone with the size—and attractiveness—of one’s physical being.

  These principles—when combined with an easy, outgoing Southern charm—guaranteed Jefferson Cartwright’s sinecure at Waterman Trust. They even put his name on department letterheads.

  For although Jefferson Cartwright’s knowledge of banking hardly approached an expert vocabulary, his ability to commit adultery with some of the wealthiest women in Manhattan, Long Island, and southern Connecticut brought many excellent accounts to Waterman. Yet the bank’s directors knew that their prime social stud was rarely a threat to any relatively secure marriage. Rather, he was a temporary divertisement, a charming, quick, and complete roll in the hay for the bored.

  Most banking institutions had at least one Jefferson Cartwright on the executive payroll. However, such men often were overlooked when it came to club memberships and dinner parties… One could never be sure.

  It was the vague sense of ostracism that made Cartwright acceptable to Ulster Scarlett. Partly because he knew why it existed and it amused him, and partly because Cartwright—outside of a few mild lectures about the state of his accounts—never tried to tell him what to do with his money.

  The bank’s directors knew this, too. It was right that someone should advise Ulster Scarlett—if only to impress Elizabeth—but as no one could change him, why waste a committed man?

  At the first session, as Cartwright called it, the banker discovered that Ulster Stewart Scarlett didn’t know the difference between a debit and an asset. So a glossary of terms was prepared to give him a basic language to work with. From there another lexicon of stock market phraseology was written for him and in time he began to master it.

  ‘Then, as I understand it, Mr. Cartwright, I have two separate incomes. Is that correct?’

  ‘Indeed it is, Mr. Scarlett. The first trust fund, which is comprised of stocks—industrial and utility—is for your annual livin’ expenses. Houses, clothes, trips abroad, purchases of any sort… Of course, you certainly could invest this money if you wished. You have durin’ the past several years if I’m not mistaken.’ Jefferson Cartwright smiled indulgently remembering a few of Ulster’s extravagant withdrawals. ‘However, the second fund—the open-faced bonds and debentures—is designed for expansion. For reinvestment. Even speculation. That was your father’s wish. Of course there’s a degree of flexibility.’

  ‘What do you mean flexibility?’

  ‘It’s hardly conceivable, Mr. Scarlett, but should your livin’ expenses exceed the income from the first trust we could, with your power of attorney, transfer capital from the second fund to the first. Of course, this is hardly conceivable.’

  ‘Of course.’

  Jefferson Cartwright laughed and gave his innocent pupil an exaggerated wink. ‘I have you there, haven’t I?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘It did occur once. Don’t you remember? The dirigible?… The dirigible you purchased several years ago?

  ‘Oh, yes. Y
ou were upset about that.’

  ‘As a banker I’m responsible to the Scarlatti Industries. After all, I’m your financial adviser. I’m held accountable—We covered the purchase from the second fund but it wasn’t proper. Not proper at all. A dirigible could hardly be called an investment.’

  ‘I apologize again.’

  ‘Just remember, Mr. Scarlett. Your father’s wish was that the monies due from the open-face securities were to be reinvested.’

  ‘How could anyone tell?’

  ‘Those are the releases you sign semiannually.’

  ‘The hundred-odd signatures I have to sit through?’

  ‘Yes. We convert the notes and invest the capital.’

  ‘In what?’

  ‘Those are the portfolio statements we send you. We catalog all investments. We make the selections ourselves as you have not—with your busy schedule—ever answered our letters with regard to your preferences.’

  ‘I never understood them.’

  ‘Well, now, that can be overcome, can’t it?’

  ‘Suppose I didn’t sign the releases?’

  ‘Well… in that unlikely event the securities would remain in the vaults until the end of the year.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘The vaults. The Scarlatti vaults.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘The releases are attached to the securities when we remove them.’

  ‘But no releases, no securities. No capital, no money.’

  ‘Exactly. They can’t be converted. The releases are just what the name implies. You release to us with your power of attorney the right to invest the capital.’

  ‘Suppose, for imagination’s sake, you didn’t exist. There was no Waterman Trust. No bank at all. How could those securities be turned into money?’

  ‘By signature again. Made payable to whomever you designated. It’s clearly set forth on each document.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘One day—when you’re more advanced, of course—you should see the vaults. The Scarlatti family occupies the entire east wing. The two remaining sons, yourself and Chancellor, have cubicles adjacent to each other. It’s really quite touching.’