Cassidy

by Morris West

  I waited perhaps five minutes, then the doors to the bedroom opened and Marius Melville stepped into the room.

  The effect of his sudden presence was strange. The air in the room was charged with electricity, as if a storm was about to break. Yet around the man himself there was an aura of stillness and singular repose. He was tall, lean almost to frailness, but he held himself straight as a guardsman. He must have been well into his sixties; his hair and his imperial beard were snow white. His skin, the colour of old walnut, contrasted vividly with the immaculate whiteness of his tropical suit. His hands and feet were small as a woman’s. His eyes were black as jet. His nose was a hawk’s beak above a mouth thin and scarlet as a knife-cut. Yet, when he smiled, his whole face lit up and you felt warmed as if by an embrace. He came towards me and held out a welcoming hand.

  ‘Mr. Gregory. A great pleasure to meet you.’

  ‘The pleasure is mutual, Mr. Melville.’

  ‘Please, sit down. We have much to discuss.’

  I took a high chair. He sat on the settee, with the coffee table in front of him.

  ‘First, if you will permit me, I should like to thank you for your care of my wife and family in Klosters.’

  ‘Please! It was the least I could do for the daughter of an old and dear friend… I always felt sad that he had been estranged so long from his family. As one gets older, one has great need of continuities. But,’ he shrugged eloquently, ‘our destiny is written on the palms of our hands. Most of us learn too late to read it… You are a lawyer, I understand?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And you specialise in corporation law, banking and international tax matters.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Cassidy always spoke very highly of your talents.’

  ‘He was praising his own handiwork.’

  ‘Which he was sometimes disposed to do, eh?’ Melville gave a small, good-humoured laugh. I smiled and slid away from the contentious subject.

  ‘Sometimes.’

  ‘Well now, to business, Mr. Gregory. I have an offer on the table: five million dollars for a briefcase full of the microfiche records of the late Charles Cassidy. Are you willing to sell?’

  ‘I’m afraid not.’

  He took it quite calmly. He studied the backs of his hands for a moment, then he asked, ‘The price is too low, perhaps.’

  ‘The price is not an issue, Mr. Melville. Cassidy left me free to decide on the disposition of the documents. My decision is not to sell them.’

  ‘Then of course I accept that. I confess I am not too surprised. My offer was made when Cassidy first told me he was terminally ill. At that stage he had no means of knowing whether you would accept to be his executor… However, there are certain other options which I should like to discuss with you, if you are so disposed.’

  ‘I’m a good listener, Mr. Melville.’

  He gave me a swift, appraising glance and a smile that had very little humour in it.

  ‘I believe you are, Mr. Gregory. Yes, I believe you are. Well then… Charles Cassidy and I were friends. We were also associated in business and therefore, sometimes, our interests were in conflict. Most of the time we managed to resolve that conflict by friendly negotiation. Occasionally, we had sessions of very hard dealing, in which one of us came out the loser. For this reason, and by mutual and open understanding’… He made a large, Latin gesture of opening his heart to me and to the world, ‘each of us preserved certain areas of privacy in our business affairs. We did not disclose everything to each other… One of the reasons I was prepared to buy Cassidy’s records from you for so high a price was precisely that. Once he was dead, there was no one else who could profit from his secrets. Unless…’ He lapsed into a small, carefully contrived, silence… ‘unless you yourself decided to take over his interests. He hoped you would. He told me he was going to discuss it with you in London. I presume he did so?’

  ‘He did.’

  ‘And your decision?’

  ‘To take the matter in stages. First, to study the basic documents. Second, to establish the exact relationship between the Melville enterprises and Cassidy’s. Third, to ascertain your future intentions and, finally, to decide if, when and how I step into the enterprise.’

  ‘Very prudent,’ said Melville drily. ‘Very logical and lawyer-like. Cassidy trained you well. No wonder he hated your guts. Now, may I ask to what stage you are now arrived?’

  ‘Stage one is completed. I have studied what Cassidy left me. I have arranged for further research to be done on certain areas of obscurity. Now I am part way through stage two. I have an outline knowledge of the connections between Cassidy and yourself.’

  ‘Would you mind describing them to me – as you see them?’

  ‘Better still, Mr. Melville, let me show you a copy of my diagrams. You will be able to correct any obvious errors.’

  I took out the microfiche blowups and laid them in sequence on the table in front of him. He pored over them for nearly a minute, his eyes downcast, his face immobile as a wooden mask. Finally, he put the cards together in a neat stack and handed them back to me with a smile.

  ‘Very good, Mr. Gregory. Acceptably accurate. A few minor changes would bring them right up to date. I begin to wonder if you are not almost as formidable as Charlie himself – a strong ally, a dangerous enemy. So, if you accept my assurance that you are at the end of stage two…’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘Then I should like to hear your assessment of both businesses.’

  ‘I’m not an accountant. Even if I were, I do not have enough figures to make a financial judgment. But in general terms…’

  ‘That’s what I’m anxious to hear: the general terms.’

  ‘Very well.’ I spread the cards again and, using Donohue’s pencil as a pointer, began an elementary analysis. There’s Cassidy – there’s Melville. Leaving aside the questions of gross income and net worth, because I know Cassidy’s but I don’t know yours, I’d say Cassidy’s in a much sounder position than you.’

  ‘You intrigue me, Mr. Gregory! Please go on.’

  ‘Item one. All Cassidy’s income flows back to a single trust in a secure tax haven. The trust is very rich; so you can cut off all the trading companies and sink ‘em in the ocean, but the trust remains a solid financial institution in its own right. I know that for various reasons the companies are vulnerable, and we should talk about that, but in a final analysis they are dispensable. Now, let’s take you. Your revenues are not shown as flowing back to a single source. Just as the lines of control do not lead back to one institution… in short, Mr. Melville, you are a very rich man but, if my guess is right, you are not your own master. These people,’ I pointed the lethal pencil at the card, ‘these “unspecified holders” could, in the last resort, unite against you and bring you down. Equally, they and you could mount an assault against Cassidy’s interests and bring those down. But the core asset would still remain untouched… End of commentary. If I have seemed impertinent you must forgive me. You did ask.’

  ‘On the contrary, my friend. I find your candour refreshing and your logic sound. I am vulnerable – as vulnerable as Cassidy when he came to you the night he died and begged you to take over the administration of his affairs. I am older than he was; though, thank God, I am in better health. Still, I am daily aware that I am living on borrowed time. Like my friend Cassidy, I have a daughter, but no son…’ He gave a small dry laugh and made a fluttery gesture of deprecation. ‘God knows why I tell you this, but in the early days, before you ran off with his daughter, Cassidy and I used to say that you and Laura would make a good match. We even made plans to arrange it. Then she married this fellow Larsen, you and Cassidy became enemies and all our plans came to nothing. However, in the weeks since Cassidy’s death I have thought that another kind of alliance might be possible – an alliance of interest which is often more permanent than marriage. That’s your third point, Mr. Gregory. Where do we both go from here? I need a man to protect
my daughter and her interests.’

  ‘Against Friends of the Friends?’

  For the first time, I had touched a nerve. A slow flush of anger showed under the dark skin. A moment later he was in control of himself. He said coolly, ‘Against the intrigues normal to every large institution.’

  ‘Before I could make any comment on that, I would have to know whom I was getting into bed with.’

  ‘In a business sense, of course.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘That might be difficult, not to say dangerous. The whole point about corporate structures is that they create new legal persons, untainted by history. A corporation cannot commit adultery. It cannot go to gaol. It cannot be indicted for murder. All the entities we are talking about – Cassidy’s, mine, the Friends’ – are such corporate bodies. But in the end there has to be a strong man to run them.’

  ‘And what makes you believe I am that man?’

  ‘Cassidy thought you could be. My daughter says you are. Each minute that we talk brings me closer to the same opinion.’

  ‘Then perhaps you will allow me to ask you some questions.’

  ‘Go ahead.’

  ‘Why have you invaded my family life?’

  His head came up with a jerk. His mouth tightened into that thin red line. He looked like a snake reared and ready to strike.

  ‘Invaded? That’s an ugly word, Mr. Gregory.’

  ‘Ugly things have happened. My family were invited to Switzerland without reference to me. While you were there, someone did a very good job of convincing my wife I was playing around in Sydney. Someone clearly encouraged her to do a little playing of her own and to split the family at a critical time while she remained to take part in some damned amateur ski championships.’

  ‘I don’t understand a word of this,’ said Melville coldly. ‘You insult me, Mr. Gregory.’

  ‘I haven’t finished yet. You set your daughter to watch me or have me watched from the moment I left London. The fact that we have become friends as a result of the encounter is no thanks to you. Finally, the day before yesterday, Pornsri Rhana, one of our fellow shareholders in Chao Phraya Trading, was found murdered in her Sydney apartment – and you haven’t said one goddamned word about it since I entered this room!’

  ‘And you think I engineered all this.’

  ‘You certainly engineered my family’s visit to Klosters and your daughter’s surveillance of me. I’d be happy to hear your explanation of the rest of it… After all, if we’re going to work together we’d better start with a clean deck, hadn’t we?’

  That surprised him, as I had hoped it might. He stared at me for a long moment, trying to read in my face how much I really knew and how far I was bluffing. With obvious reluctance, he began to explain himself.

  ‘…You know as well as I that Cassidy disapproved of your marriage to his daughter. It was against his wishes; it was against the Church. I don’t think he believed too much in God, but, like all the Irish, like all the Sicilians and the Maltese, the Church was where he was born, the Church was where he wanted to die. He used to say to me often: “It’s no marriage, Mario. It’s a sacrilege. If I could break it up, I would. That way they’d both get a fresh chance; and if Martin decided to marry your daughter – which she’d be free to do, because she was married outside the fold, too – then I’d happily give him the blessing I refused him in the first place!” Do you believe what I’m telling you, Mr. Gregory?’

  I shrugged and told him that if it wasn’t true it was at least ben trovato. I could almost hear Cassidy saying the words.

  He went on: ‘…So after Cassidy’s death and your departure for Australia, I decided to see for myself how things lay between you and your wife. I was not in Klosters, but I have many friends there. It was simple enough to plant a rumour or two, gossip heard from Australian visitors, a letter displayed at a party… It soon became clear that you had parted under strained circumstances, that your wife was uncertain and suggestible. She is also of a certain age, when the attentions of a young and handsome ski instructor are at least flattering. To the best of my knowledge, nothing has happened; but if it had, I should have been very happy to foster a match between you and my daughter. There now! What have I done that is so terrible? If you and your wife still love each other, I have brought you closer together. If you don’t – then you are both rich, free and happy…’

  Once again I was caught, snap-frozen, in that ice-age of irredeemable malice. I couldn’t be angry with him. I believed every word he said; about Cassidy, about Pat, about himself. In the same mood of utter detachment, I asked him to give his version of the murder of Pornsri Rhana. He shook his head emphatically.

  ‘For this I have no explanation. She was Cassidy’s mistress, Cassidy’s choice to run Chao Phraya Trading. She voted with Cassidy on the board of directors. I met her a few times. She was very beautiful, but I have small taste for Thai women. I find them full of sweetness but without fire. However, that is a personal taste… Regretfully, Mr. Gregory, I cannot help you.’

  ‘Then perhaps you would be willing to check a line of reasoning that has been put up to me.’

  ‘By whom?’

  ‘By two people – my lawyer and a very experienced police officer.’

  ‘You mean you’ve been to the police about this?’ He seemed genuinely shocked.

  ‘Other way round. The police have been to see me.’

  ‘Of course. Forgive my stupidity. Go on.’

  ‘The police know the woman was Cassidy’s mistress. They know she worked for Chao Phraya. They know that company’s connection with the pharmaceutical business… All this and some more, including the existence of a trust called in German Red Dragon, and the existence of a Melmar subsidiary which holds one-third of the issued stock… Now, they come to me and say, “Martin Gregory, you’re a lawyer. We’re going to read you a scenario and you’re going to give us an opinion on it…” Here’s the story they read me… Marius Melville is an international developer with no criminal convictions but a lot of criminal connections. Cassidy was a brilliant crook who managed to stay out of gaol. He has set up a chain of companies in South-East Asia in which Melville controls one-third of the shares. Cassidy’s dead, Melville wants to take over. Easiest way is to grab another third of the votes, leaving the Cassidy interest isolated and outvoted… You see how they’re reasoning, Mr. Melville?’

  ‘I do.’ He seemed very calm about it. ‘It’s called a hypothesis, a “let’s suppose”, an unproven assumption.’

  ‘I told them the same thing, almost in the same words. But they went a little further.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘They suggested that the killing may have been arranged by one Erhardt Möller, an expatriate criminal who is a one-third shareholder in Cassidy’s Manila operation. If you had him on your side that would give you control of two companies instead of one… That’s the police theory, of course.’

  ‘It has one fatal flaw, I’m afraid. The woman’s share reverts to her father, General Rhana. How can I possibly get him to sell out?’

  ‘A little more pressure would do it. Pressure from the personage at the Palace who can say yea or nay to your hotel permit, who would love to get his hands on the very substantial reserves of Chao Phraya. Pressure from below – from the police, the customs men and the shipping clerks, who are already putting the bite on… That’s the reading I got. What do you think of it?’

  ‘Ingenious, but a fairytale.’

  ‘Except for one fact. Möller was waiting for a remittance from Pornsri to buy a cargo of arms under demurrage in Luzon. The remittance was never sent. My lawyer was dealing with it and the police intervened. But some time yesterday Möller bought his cargo. I wonder where he got the money from?’

  ‘You must know,’ said Marius Melville softly, ‘that you have just committed a dangerous indiscretion.’

  ‘What’s indiscreet about it? We’re private. We’re talking deals. You have to know the kind of partner you’d be
getting. I have to know that I’m not in business with a man who’s getting so short-sighted he can’t see the snipers in the trees… Oh, and that’s another thing, Mr. Melville. Please never, never meddle in my private life again.’

  ‘Is that a threat?’

  ‘No. It’s a polite request.’

  ‘I’m happy to grant it… Now, may I take it you are willing to join forces with me to protect our joint interests and, in due course, those of my daughter?’

  ‘I’m willing to discuss such an arrangement; heads of agreement first, details in due course. I have to tell you that’s going to involve some disclosures about who controls what on the Melville side… There are a lot of nasty diseases about and I want to know whom I’m getting into bed with.’

  ‘I repeat, Mr. Gregory – I’d like to see you bedded and wedded with my daughter. She likes you very much – and she comes with a hell of a dowry!’

  ‘That’s a poor joke, Mr. Melville.’

  ‘It wasn’t intended as a joke. There’d be fewer divorces if people ran their marriages as a business partnership! May I suggest we meet at five this afternoon to discuss heads of agreement. I’m bidden with Laura to lunch at the Palace… Which reminds me: we needn’t make a big song and dance over the General’s interest in Chao Phraya Trading. I’m sure we can offer a very generous buyout. Why don’t you call him and talk to him? You’re a very persuasive advocate!’

  17

  As he walked me courteously to the door, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I had just heard the reading of my own death warrant. The sentence would be executed as soon as a deal had been arranged for the merger of our two interests. My only hope of reprieve was a marriage with Laura Larsen and a formal act of fealty to the code of the Friends which lay behind all the courtly phrases of the dialogue: ‘There is no halfway house, Martin Gregory. You are with us or against us. If you are against us, there is no place on the planet where you can feel safe again!’