“As long as that!” said Dukes.
“Maybe longer,” Franks exaggerated. He wondered if it would work. Nicky’s figures were too optimistic, so he was being quite truthful and quite professional. So it still might be possible to frighten them away. If they decided to withdraw because the return was too small in the short term, the company formation would be abandoned and he’d be extricated without losing any face. Being the strong man unable to carry the weaker ones with him, in fact.
“Haven’t you been too optimistic?” challenged Pascara. “Your prospectus talks of it having a high profitability potential.”
“Nowhere in anything I’ve said or submitted have I promised quick returns,” rejected Franks easily.
“Let’s look at the long term,” said Dukes. “When everything is established and running, Nicky’s estimated five million dollars a year, from each complex. Is that optimistic?”
Shit, thought Franks. As much as he wanted to escape he wouldn’t impinge on his own integrity with an outright lie. “No,” he said. “When everything is established we could expect something higher, maybe even seven million dollars.”
“It’s gamblers who expect an instant profit,” said Pascara. He spoke as if able to see Dukes.
In reply, the Texan said, “An eventual seven million dollars a unit looks pretty good to me.”
Shit, thought Franks again. He said, “That won’t be achieved for years.”
“If we decide to proceed today, you still want control stock holding?” said Flamini.
“Yes,” said Franks. If they tried to override him on that he’d have another acceptable reason for withdrawing.
“So you intend making the success a personal thing?” said Flamini.
Which was how it had always been, reflected Franks. Would a psychiatrist see an inferiority complex in the attitude? Probably. He said, “I think personal control and supervision is important, as you know. That’s how I’ve always operated. I couldn’t consider any other arrangement.”
“I think the personal involvement is extremely important,” said Pascara.
“Is there anything that anyone doesn’t consider to have been covered?” prompted Nicky, resuming the chairman’s role.
From the assembled men there were various gestures and head shaking.
“Then it would seem to be the time for commitment,” encouraged the lawyer.
Pascara was the first to speak. He said, “I accept Franks’ controlling stock holding. And I’m prepared to come in for an equal third of the remaining stock.”
“That goes for me, too,” said Flamini at once.
“I’m happy with that,” said Dukes.
“Which leaves you, Eddie,” said Nicky.
Franks responded to everyone’s attention, rationalizing what had happened. From a true business perspective, it was a good deal; an excellent one in the prevailing economic situation. Fourteen was his top percentage payment, which was just acceptable. Forming the company with them meant he wasn’t held up by the current financial tightness. And he was retaining what was always the primary essential: his own control. It was time he succeeded in subjugating completely his ridiculous attitude toward Nicky. Time, too, to lose the sort of inferiority complex that he’d wondered about earlier. He said, “I’d like very much to go forward.”
Franks returned to England that same night and the following day called upon the loans he had negotiated. It took only days for the arrangements to be completed and now it became Franks who made the telephone calls to New York, imposing a timetable and belatedly seeking a character reference from each of the financiers. Franks had begrudgingly to concede the response was impressive. Nicky personally vouched for the three men, providing satisfactory details of their previous associations. Franks drafted his own money from London to Manhattan on the same day he received confirmation of the loans, but already Dukes had made his investment. Pascara and Flamini were only three days behind. The only delay came from the legal formalities of incorporation, which would be done in Delaware because of its advantageous tax arrangements. Franks waited until the company became legal before instructing Nicky to send his rejection letters to the island landowners. In each case there was immediate capitulation to the old price, and Franks let them imagine they’d lost a deal by their intransigence until finally they approached him. He drove the price down from their original figure, settling $150 an acre cheaper and saving $375,000.
The bribes he’d predicted were necessary, and Franks went through the formality of calling them commissions and negotiated figures not low enough to cause resentment but not high enough, either, for any of the officials wrongly to imagine there could be additional draining demands.
All the time Franks remained aware that he was operating differently than before and meticulously summoned New York meetings to which he gave complete progress reports. Never once was he seriously questioned.
Franks was busier than he could remember being—even in the early days when he was starting out—and he enjoyed every minute-stretched, hour-packed day of it. The expansion broke the relaxed, long-weekend life-style that he and Tina had enjoyed. There was far less tennis and more long evenings when he isolated himself in the study, maintaining a cent-by-cent check on expenditure and equating it against the day-by-day progression of the building. Franks was very aware of the difficulties that could have arisen between himself and Tina and loved her all the more because she never once complained. There were many times when she had reason. He was in England for the pre-starting Open Day introductions to Harrow, but on the day David actually started at school Franks was unable to leave Bermuda because of a material supply crisis. And he missed Gabriella’s birthday, which he had assured her he would attend.
When construction work started simultaneously on every complex, the only way to maintain the supervision he intended was to virtually live permanently in the islands, reducing further his time in England. He decided it was time to fulfill his promise and buy a home in America.
Tina didn’t choose to live as close to her parents as he had expected. The Scargo mansion was just outside Pleasantville, with a distant view of the Saw Mill River. The house that Tina selected was quite a lot farther south, on the outskirts of Scarsdale, sufficiently far away from the Scargo house and, conveniently, much nearer to Manhattan. There were about seven acres of land—two of those undeveloped scrub and undergrowth for which he immediately hired a landscape gardener—and the house itself was smaller than the one in England, only four main bedrooms and a small servants apartment over the garages, which meant Elizabeth, who had become Gabriella’s permanent nanny, had to live in the main house. It was colonially designed: white clapboard, with front porch pillars and a widow’s walk like a hairnet around the roof, although it was a long way from Boston and Portland and Rockland where such high balconies were the traditional lookout points for wives seeking the return of their sea-going husbands. Franks indulged Tina, leaving her entirely in charge of the furnishings and decoration, pleased she had something with which to occupy herself during his long, enforced absences.
He took permanent hotel rooms in Nassau and Hamilton, commuting between the two island capitals in a private aircraft, succeeding by his presence in reducing the building delays to an absolute minimum, the longest being two months in Bermuda. He created an extensive advertising campaign and altered the sailing schedules to enable the cruise liner to offer a combined shore-cruise itinerary. The schedule change succeeded, establishing at once a satisfactory occupancy figure, in advance of the response from the advertising campaign. And when that response came, it exceeded Franks’ expectation. It didn’t achieve Nicky’s estimate, but neither did it reflect the realistically careful figures Franks had advanced.
He made a ceremony out of every opening. Dukes and Flamini attended, but Pascara said business commitments prevented his coming. Dukes’ wife was much younger than the Texan, blond and long-legged. Her name was Angela, and Tina said later she liked her. Flamini
’s wife was quiet and appeared slightly bewildered by everything; she reminded Franks of Mamma Scargo.
Nicky came too, bringing Maria Spinetti with him. Franks was surprised but didn’t show it. She behaved impeccably, absolutely confident but never once showing any overfamiliarity because of her working relationship with the board.
The Bahamian ceremonies took ten days, and on the last night, when they were alone in their suite, Tina said excitedly, “Nicky told me tonight he was getting married.”
“Who to?” asked Franks obtusely.
“Maria, of course,” said the woman. “Isn’t that wonderful?”
9
The Caribbean operation became an Eddie Franks success, like everything else. The family was practically domiciled in America, having David brought from England for vacations. Franks divided his time between Manhattan and the islands, commuting weekly and often taking Tina and Gabriella with him. Increasingly there was little to report beyond the profit forecast for the end of the year, but Franks continued to summon monthly board meetings, and Dukes and Flamini and Pascara always attended.
Maria Spinetti left Nicky’s firm after their engagement was announced, to be replaced by an upgraded secretary from one of the outer offices, and Franks and Tina became socially involved with the couple. They were living together in advance of the actual wedding ceremony, and Franks and Tina often stayed overnight in Nicky’s brownstone in the upper Sixties. On weekends the couple frequently drove up to Scarsdale. Tina had installed a court and there were a lot of tennis parties because it turned out to be Maria’s favorite game, too.
As their friendship increased, Franks reflected how fortunate it was that he had not responded stupidly in the early days to the invitation from Maria. He remained convinced there had been an invitation. But not any longer. Now her attitude was one of warm but correctly defined friendship. He supposed that she’d actually become Tina’s best friend. As the wedding drew nearer the two women spent almost every day together, planning her trousseau and the dresses for the bridesmaids—one of whom was Gabriella—and the changes that Nicky was letting her make to the Manhattan townhouse.
Maria’s mother was a widow, with an apartment on Long Island, so the reception was held at the Scargo’s Westchester home. There were marquees in the garden again and a band, and the tennis court was floored for dancing. It was in July, during the English school holidays, so David was able to attend. The Scargos invited all their relations, and Nicky included a lot of business acquaintances. Dukes and Flamini and Pascara attended. Apart from the brief period of the opening ceremonies, it was the first time Franks had been involved with them in anything like a social occasion. Angela Dukes wore a tight-fitting suit and a wide-brimmed picture hat, and Flamini’s wife still appeared bewildered, although she was more at home here, in a family setting.
It was boisterous and Italian-American. Franks watched Tina dancing with someone he believed was a cousin but wasn’t sure and thought how completely happy he was. Contented, too. At last. His fears at taking in outside investors had been misplaced, he accepted honestly. And he finally felt he’d proved himself. To himself. And to the Scargo family. He was no longer the refugee with a label in his lapel. He was actually smiling at his own reflections when he felt movement alongside and turned to see Nicky, smiling also.
“Leaving?” said Franks. Nicky and Maria were honey-mooning in Europe, two weeks of the trip in one of Franks’ villas near the Lido, on the coast near Venice.
“Not yet,” said the lawyer. “Poppa wants to see us both.”
Enrico was in the drawing room, at the window that overlooked the party. He was standing there gazing out when Franks and Nicky entered. As they did so he held out his arms to both of them, in a welcoming embrace, and when they walked forward put his arms around both of them, pulling them close. Nicky put his arm around his father, and after an embarrassed hesitation Franks did so too. Enrico released them both after a while and said, “This is a wonderful day. Both my sons successful. Now both my sons married to beautiful girls. A wonderful day.”
Franks became aware of an ice bucket and wine beside the table from which Nicky usually poured the drinks. Enrico performed the task this time, formally handing them glasses. “I want this to be a very special toast,” he said. “Special beyond the rest.”
Franks smiled back, admiring the man. He had to be seventy, Franks supposed; maybe older. But little seemed to have changed from the day of that dockside arrival, all those years ago. The hair was completely white now but remained very full, and he was still upright and comparatively hard-bodied, apart from the paunch. Franks raised his glass, responding to Enrico’s invitation.
“To my son and to a man I regard as my son,” said Enrico, thick-voiced. “I want you to know how proud I am. How proud I’ve always been. I don’t think there can be a man as happy as I am with the life he’s had.”
Franks had the impression that Nicky felt embarrassed now. He said, “Let me make another toast. Let me say thank-you to a wonderful man and a wonderful family who took me in and made me part of it.” There was a risk of this becoming maudlin, he thought. But he wanted to say it. None of them would ever know but he’d just made an apology for all his stupidity in the last few years in his attitude toward them.
They drank, and then Enrico proposed again, “To us always being like we are today.”
“As we are today,” echoed Nicky.
“Get back to the party,” instructed Enrico, swallowing heavily. “Get back out there and enjoy the fun.”
As they made their way out of the house Nicky said, “David Dukes has a suggestion about the Caribbean operation.”
“What?” asked Franks.
“He wasn’t specific,” said Nicky dismissively.
Franks found the Texan by the dance floor, indulgently watching as Pascara’s son swirled around with his flamboyant wife. “Nicky says you’ve got an idea about the company,” he said.
Dukes turned to him. “Only an idea,” he said. “Just thought I’d put it forward, to see what everybody thinks.”
10
It made practical sense to have preliminary discussions on Dukes’ proposal while they were all in New York, despite Nicky’s honeymoon absence. They still used his office and conference area—because that was where they always met—the day after the Westchester reception. Franks automatically chaired the meeting, but because the discussions were informal he agreed to Pascara’s suggestion that there was no need for formal note-taking or record-making.
“What’s the suggestion?” Franks demanded when they were settled.
“Gambling,” announced Dukes shortly.
“Gambling?” The question came from Pascara, slightly ahead of Franks.
“Quite separately from our involvement together I’ve acquired an interest in Las Vegas,” expanded Dukes. “I’ve spent a lot of time there recently. The profit from gaming is astonishing. Some of the larger hotels with casinos, like Caesars Palace and the Sands, think in terms of millions of dollars a week.”
“You think we should consider expansion into Las Vegas?” said Pascara, responding to rare prompting from Luigi, beside him.
Dukes shook his head. “My thought was that we should install casinos in our own complexes.”
“It goes against our concept,” said Franks. “Our whole theme is absolute luxury. Slot machines don’t fit in.”
“I wasn’t suggesting that they did,” said Dukes. “Why not make the casinos like the hotels, high class, high stakes, everything discreet and plush? The very fact of not having slot machines would be a gimmick that would fit exactly into our mold.”
“My feelings are with Franks,” said Flamini. “We’re doing well with a good image. I’m not sure that gambling fits into it.”
“Would the governments of the islands allow it anyway?” said Pascara, hinting opposition.
“We won’t know until we’ve made an approach,” said Dukes. “There’s already a casino in Nassau so I don
’t see why they should object to another one.”
“Maybe on the grounds that there is already one in existence,” said Franks.
“Like I said,” reiterated Dukes, “we won’t know until we’ve made an approach.”
Franks knew from his French operation how popular the casinos were in places like Cannes and Deauville. Conscious of his mistaken initial attitude toward the men, Franks tried to remain objective. His immediate response was to reject the idea outright, but a more considered reflection was that the sort of casino that Dukes was suggesting might be an advantage. The Bahamas and Bermuda were geared for American vacationers and there was a great limitation to casino gambling in the United States. To Pascara he said, “What do you think?”
“I’m unwilling to come out for or against at this stage,” said the blind man. “I’d need some certified accounts to be convinced if it’s practicable. And I’d certainly need to know the attitudes of both the island governments.”
“Flamini?” invited Franks.
“I like our luxury concept,” said the other Italian. “It’s worked. At the moment I’m unsure we’d be able to maintain the standard if we go into casinos. There are too many shady areas in gambling.”
“Not if it’s properly governed and policed,” said Dukes. “The sort of security that exists in Vegas is incredible. And it works. They keep files on all the known crooks and gangsters. I’d defy any of them to last longer than an hour before they’re identified.”
“I don’t suppose there would be any harm in exploring it,” said Flamini. “This is informal, after all. If we decide against it we haven’t really wasted anything.”
“I’d like to see something of the actual operation,” said Franks with his predictable need to examine everything personally.
“Why don’t I take you down and introduce you to my Las Vegas partner? Name’s Harry Greenberg. The hotel is the Golden Hat.”
“We still need to know the attitude of the islands,” reminded Flamini.
To Save a Son Page 5
