The Piranhas

by Harold Robbins

  Despite his physical discomfort, he felt good. The company he was just entering represented three billion dollars of newly invested American money. It was not only the film company—it was twelve television stations, thirty radio stations, and real estate that already consisted of thirty-four high-rise office buildings, apartments, and hotels. There were also the cable company and the video film rental and sales, sold in more than twenty thousand retail stores across the country. And he had control of all of it for only 200 million of his own and 800 million of syndicate money. All he had left to do was to spin off the real estate, and he would have more than enough to take the syndicate out, and Milken and Drexel Burnham Lambert had agreed to guarantee his money.

  They were all assholes, he thought to himself. It was not important to him that they had lost more than a half billion dollars in the last two years. There were assets to make all that back and even more. Little did they know what was on the horizon. He would show them how to make this business work. He glanced toward his chauffeur’s compartment as the driver spoke to the uniformed guard who had come out from the guard shack to check them. Reed smiled to himself. This was only the first day—after today they would all know his car.

  The guard nodded at the chauffeur, and, holding a plastic card in his hand, went behind the car and placed the card under the rear axle of the limousine. He nodded back to the chauffeur, and waved to him to proceed.

  The guard stood outside the small shack until the limousine turned and then stepped back into the guard shack and looked down at the two guards he had tied securely on the floor. Coolly he removed his gun from his holster and carefully attached the silencer to his automatic; then he shot each of the guards in the forehead. Calmly he walked out of the guard shack and onto the street outside the studio gate.

  Quickly he slipped behind the wheel of an inconspicuous dark green Ford and turned on the motor. Then he glanced back at the studio gate, checking the second sweep of his watch. At exactly the moment when the second hand reached twelve, he drove his car into the traffic as the deafening roar of the exploding bomb came to his ears from the studio behind him.

  * * *

  DANIEL PEACHTREE WALKED into the boardroom where the other directors were sitting. “I’ve just heard from Jarvis. He’s in his car, on the way here. It should only be a few more minutes.”

  Siddely smiled, relieved. “Good. I never knew him to miss a meeting.”

  The moment the words had fallen from his lips, the noise of the explosion echoed through the room, rocking the building.

  Siddely was pale. “What the hell is that? An earthquake?” His hands gripped the table tightly.

  “No way,” Daniel said. “I’m a Californian. I’ve been in a few earthquakes, they’re not anything like that. Let’s go out on the balcony and see what’s happening down there.”

  The other directors quickly followed. They looked over the steel railing and down at the front of the office building. There was a large white stretch limousine spread and twisted on the roadway below them. Smoke poured from inside the car, but it still held together like a swollen, spoiled can of sardines. Around the roadway shattered glass was scattered from both the windows of the car and the windows of the office entrances. The noise of a fire alarm screamed into the air, and men in uniforms came running from the office building staring at the car.

  “What the fuck happened?” one of the directors asked.

  Daniel looked down at the mess below them, then turned to the directors, who were staring at him. His voice was as pale as his face. “I guess we just lost Reed Jarvis. That was his limo. I recognize it.”

  “That had to be a car bomb,” said McManus, Bank of America’s representative on the board. “I spent two years in Beirut and I’ve heard a few of them. I wonder who the hell could have done it.”

  “I haven’t the faintest idea,” Peachtree said. “But that’s not my job—that belongs to the police. I still have business to take care of.”

  He walked back into the boardroom and picked up the first telephone. Quickly he tapped out a combination of internal numbers.

  A girl’s voice answered. “KFAN-TV.”

  “News desk. Emergency,” he said shortly.

  Siddely came up behind him. “Aren’t you going downstairs to see what’s happened?”

  “In a moment,” Daniel said. “I want the TV crew outside before any of the other stations get out here to cover it.” He turned and spoke into the telephone. “This is Peachtree. A limo just blew up on the lot, in front of the Gates of Heaven. If we don’t have our TV crew on this and on the air before any other station has it, I’ll have a whole new staff running this news department tomorrow.” He waited a moment, listening. “I know nothing other than what I told you,” he said finally.

  He hung up and turned to the other directors. “I just thought, since it was our own story, we should at least be the ones who get the scoop before anyone else.”

  They stared at him. Sherman Siddely, who had put the whole deal together for Jarvis, lit a cigarette with a shaking hand. “If it’s really Jarvis inside that car, we’re all in a lot of trouble.”

  Bradley appeared in the doorway. “It was Jarvis in the car,” he said, moving into the boardroom, Judge Gitlin and Jed Stevens following behind him. “I just came from downstairs. The whole lobby is a mess, but fortunately no one has been hurt there. The guard down there told me it was Jarvis’s limo that had just stopped in front of the building.”

  “Jesus.” Siddely paled. “I can’t believe it.”

  “You need a drink,” Bradley said. He turned to the others. “We all need a drink.”

  Daniel went back to the bar and took out several bottles. He placed a tray of glasses on the bar and began pouring whiskey into each. Silently they began swallowing their drinks. He sipped his own slowly and watched Bradley.

  Bradley held his glass in his hand without drinking. He met Daniel’s eyes and nodded. “I saw the TV crew moving on the scene. I figured that you called them.”

  Daniel nodded. “I hate to appear callous, but why should another station beat us on our own story?”

  “Good thinking,” Bradley said approvingly. “What was it that you told me at the party? That Jarvis was going to appoint you CEO?”

  “That was what he was thinking about,” Daniel answered nervously.

  Bradley nodded. “It was a good thought. You have the job.”

  Daniel’s mouth was agape. “I—I don’t understand. I thought—”

  Bradley interrupted. “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Obviously you can handle this business better than I can. You just proved it under fire. You know how to take advantage of every opportunity.”

  Siddely flushed. “But now we have problems. Without Jarvis, where are we going to get the money to continue operating?”

  “We’ll manage,” Bradley said calmly. “The main thing is not to panic. Let’s adjourn this meeting until five this afternoon. I have a feeling we’re going to be crawling with cops and press for a few hours.” He turned to Daniel. “You’re the CEO, so you’re stuck with having to deal with this.”

  “I’ll call the PR boys in on it,” Daniel said.

  “Good.” He turned to the others. “We’ll meet here again at five.”

  * * *

  DANIEL CAME INTO Bradley’s office, his face drawn and tired. “The police want to talk to all the directors. I told them that we were all in a state of shock, and they agreed they would wait and talk to us tomorrow.”

  “Okay,” Bradley said.

  Judge Gitlin looked at Daniel. “Do the police have any idea as to who might have done it?”

  Daniel shook his head. “They just feel that it was a professional hit. The killer also shot the two guards at the entrance shack. He took no chances that he could be identified.”

  “I wonder if the killer was in the shack when I came in. I got here only about a half an hour before Jarvis,” Jed said.

  “Did you get parking i
nstructions?” Daniel asked.

  “Yes. He stuck a sticker on my windshield.”

  “Then you saw one of our own men. Maybe one of those who were killed. Meanwhile the police are going to check on what Jarvis has been doing in the last few days. Maybe they’ll learn something more about him that will give them a clue about this.”

  “This publicity isn’t going to help us. Our stock hasn’t been doing that great in the market as it is. Now it will really go into the shithouse,” Brad said. “Let’s get back to the directors and see if we can find some way to counter it. Mr. Stevens, please excuse me for just a few minutes.”

  Silently they filed into the boardroom. The other directors were already there. Quickly Bradley went to the head of the table. He remained standing as they took their seats. Briefly he told them what Daniel knew about the police investigation. “We’re all in shock, gentlemen, so I think this meeting should be brief and to the point. There are two important problems facing us right now. The first problem is money to continue operating. Fortunately I have been able to arrange a short-term loan of eighty-five million dollars. I think that can hold us for the moment. The second problem is up to all of us. We have to marshal our friends in the market to rally round us. I will ask each of you to help in this matter.”

  A general assent came from the directors.

  Bradley said to Siddely, “Sherman, we have to know as soon as possible who will control Jarvis’s stock, and their intentions about it.”

  Sherman looked at him, then at the other directors. “As far as I know, Jarvis had bought this stock in his name personally. I don’t know the details of his will, but I do know his wife will be his only heir.”

  “Can you talk to her and find out what she has in mind?”

  “I can try,” Sherman said. “But one thing I do know, she hated him. They stayed married only because of the financial problems that would be created had they gotten a divorce. She’s in Toronto, and I’ll get up there to see her.”

  “Good enough. Thank you,” Bradley said. “Now for other important business. As you all may know, I have to devote more time to my own oil company, and I feel that it would be unfair to Millennium if I continue in the day-to-day operation of the studio. Therefore, I ask you to agree with me that Daniel Peachtree should be elected to the position of President and CEO of the company and I will move to the position of Chairman of the Board.”

  There was a moment’s silence as the directors looked at each other. Then Sherman Siddely spoke up. “I’m concerned only about the public relations of this change in management at this particular moment. I am afraid that the public might feel that you are running away from this situation and the difficulties that now face the company.”

  “That’s a crock of shit, Sherman,” Bradley said evenly. “I know that you and Jarvis had already spoken to the directors about Peachtree’s position. The only difference in this proposal that I’m bringing to the table is that I become the Chairman instead of Jarvis. Daniel will do a good job, and I will be behind him and continue to support the company throughout its financial problems.”

  Siddely’s face flushed. “Jarvis had a plan to refinance the company.”

  “It might sound a little cold, Siddely,” Bradley said, “but dead men don’t make plans. All I can suggest is that you stay on top of his estate and make sure that we don’t have any flap in that area.” He turned to the others. “Now I will entertain a motion for the promotion of Peachtree and for me to become Chairman.”

  It took only moments for the motion to be made, seconded, and approved. Bradley smiled. “Congratulations, Daniel. Now your work really is cut out for you. You’ll have to send out press releases about the reorganization, and also about the sorrow we all feel concerning the Jarvis tragedy.”

  Daniel glanced around at the directors. “I already have the public relations people working on a statement to go out tomorrow.”

  “Good,” Bradley answered.

  “I’ll send the releases out about the changes in our positions the following day,” Daniel said. He looked at Bradley. “The eighty-five-million fund is firm?”

  “I have it in the bank, we’ll transfer it to the company as soon as we complete the paperwork,” Bradley confirmed.

  “That will help me a great deal,” Daniel said. “I have several good opportunities for production in film and TV, but the big problem is that the major agencies want to see our money.”

  Bradley turned back to the board of directors. “I suggest that we adjourn and let Daniel do his work. As for the rest of us, I have a feeling we’re going to be driven crazy by the media and the police. There’s no way we’ll be able to avoid them. My advice to you is to relax, tell them what you know, and it will be over soon enough.”

  Siddely shook his head. “I still can’t believe it. I don’t know who would want to have him killed.”

  “I do,” Bradley said. “Me.”

  7

  “CONGRATULATIONS, MR. PEACHTREE.” His secretary greeted him as he returned to his office directly from the board meeting.

  “Thank you, Gladys. How did you find out?”

  Gladys laughed. “The studio tom-toms are faster than you realize.” She picked up a sheaf of telephone messages from her desk as she rose to follow him into his office. “Thyme has called twice. She said it’s very important.”

  “I’ll call her,” he answered. “Ask Mr. Shifrin to come to my office.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said. She started to walk away, then turned back to him. “Jack Reilly wanted to know if you would like him to have Mr. Jarvis’s office redecorated for you before you moved in.”

  Daniel looked at her. The king is dead. Really dead. Long live the king. “I haven’t really thought about it yet. Tell him I will let him know.”

  “Yes, Mr. Peachtree,” she said. “I’ll get Mr. Shifrin for you.”

  He waited until the door had closed behind her, then picked up the phone and dialed Thyme’s private line. “Thyme?”

  “Yes?” She sounded nervous.

  “Daniel.” He spoke in a low voice. “I wanted to talk to you but I was tied up. You know about Jarvis?”

  “I couldn’t miss it. It’s been all over TV. He must have been a real mess. Christ, and how he was pissed off when I only bit off a little piece of his cock. I wonder what he’s thinking about now?”

  “Be serious, Thyme,” he said. “The cops are going to find out that you saw him last night.”

  “The cops were already here,” she said. “That’s why I called you.”

  “What did you tell them?”

  “The truth,” she said flatly. “He took me home from the party and I invited him up for a nightcap. He got too aggressive, tried to deep-throat me, and I bit his cock. Then he called me some names and went away mad.”

  “You told that to the police?” he asked incredulously.

  “I learned a long time ago, you don’t lie to the police. They always find out if you do.”

  “Did you tell them that I brought you to the party in my plane?” he asked.

  “They already knew that.”

  “What else did they ask?”

  “Nothing much,” she answered. “They asked if I knew of anyone who would do him in, and I told them nobody except me. So they laughed and went away.”

  “I hope you were straight when you talked to them. I don’t think they would like it if you were high,” he said.

  “Don’t be an asshole, Daniel. They’re homicide, not narcs.”

  “You’re going to show up in the papers,” he said.

  “There’s no such thing as bad publicity. Especially if there’s a smell of scandal attached.”

  “You’re a real bitch,” he said in an admiring tone. “There’s nothing sacred to you.”

  “You’re no better,” she said. “I don’t hear you crying.”

  “We don’t have any choices, do we?” he answered. “We have to play the cards they deal us.” He glanced up as a knock came from
the door and Neal poked his head in. He gestured to Neal to enter. “Okay, Thyme, thanks for the call, and keep in touch if there is anything I can do for you.”

  “I’m cool,” she said. “Rainbeau has invited me to spend a week with him at his home in Puerto Rico. Methanie and I are leaving tomorrow morning in his private jet.”

  “You should have fun,” he said. “I hear he has a fabulous place there.”

  “It won’t be just fun. We’re planning an album and a video together. He has a number of songs that we can work on,” she said.

  “That makes it even better,” he said. “Rainbeau is signed to our label.”

  She laughed. “But I’m not. You’ll have to deal with my people.”

  “Smartass.” He chuckled. “But I’m not worried about it. We’ll work it out.”

  “I’m sure you will,” she said flatly. “Especially after all we’ve been through together.”

  “Bitch.” He laughed.

  “’Bye, baby,” she said and hung up.

  Daniel looked at Neal. “That was Thyme,” he explained. “Everything is okay with her. We’ll not have any trouble. The police have already spoken to her.”

  “She didn’t tell them that you arranged the date?” Neal was still anxious.

  “She’s a smart bitch,” Daniel answered. “Always thinking, but a little blackmail goes a long way.”

  Neal smiled. “I feel better already. It could have been very embarrassing for us.” He was still standing in front of the desk. “Congratulations, Daniel. You’ve made it. I don’t know whether to kiss you or shake your hand.”

  Daniel laughed. “For now, you can shake my hand. I don’t know who will be popping into the office.”

  “The power trip gave me a hard-on that won’t quit,” Neal said, rubbing his crotch.

  Daniel stared at the bulge in Neal’s pants. His mouth went dry. “Take it out,” he said hoarsely. “I want to see it.”

  Neal quickly opened the zipper and his erect penis sprang, swollen, before him. Without touching himself, he met Daniel’s eyes. “Say the word,” he whispered, “and I’ll come all over your desk.”