The Piranhas

by Harold Robbins

  “I think he’s wrong,” I said.

  “But Mike likes you and wants to do business with you. If you merge Millennium into General Avionics, he thinks he can sell five billion high-yield bonds for you.”

  I stared at him. “That’s shit,” I said. “General Avionics doesn’t need any money, I’m not going to be put into hock for the picture company.”

  Ron was calm. “It’s just an idea,” he said. “Mike just wanted to help.”

  I rose and held my hand out to him. “Thank him,” I said. “This is not the kind of help I need.” We shook hands politely and they left the conference room.

  “Sons of bitches,” Handley said.

  “It doesn’t mean anything,” I said. “It’s just business for Mike.”

  Sherman Siddely turned to me. “I was talking to McManus and we agreed that B. of A. isn’t going to help.”

  I laughed. “When did you ever know of a bank that would lend you money if you really need it?”

  McManus said, “You’re right. But B. of A. has forty million of negative loans in movies that died.”

  “Come on, Mac,” I said. “B. of A. has blown hundreds of millions in negative loans in the film industry over the years. Forty is a drop in the bucket. Besides the only reason you made the loans to Millennium is because you thought that Shepherd would transfer his oil company’s accounts over to you.”

  McManus grinned. “Smart ass,” he said.

  “Why don’t you be a sport and split the Star Island negative deal with me? Five million isn’t that much.”

  “And what do you give me for it?”

  “New business from General Avionics,” I said.

  “Do you mean that?” he asked.

  “I keep my word,” I said. “And besides that, I will guarantee you the first money out of the picture if it pays out.”

  McManus turned to Siddely. “What do you think?”

  Siddely nodded. “Peachtree knows what he’s doing. I’ll put my money on him. If Shepherd ever had production men as good as that fag, he wouldn’t have fallen into the shit.”

  McManus said to me, “I’ll check it with my home office. I think it’s a deal.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “Every little bit helps.”

  Siddely turned to me. “Jarvis knew what he was doing. He had Peachtree really checked out.”

  “Too bad he wasn’t smart enough to check out his car,” I said.

  “Jarvis chased the wrong girl,” Siddely said. “She had a Las Vegas gangster boyfriend.” He looked at me. “I didn’t know that you had known Mrs. Jarvis.”

  “She was married to a cousin of mine a long time ago,” I said.

  “I tried to get in touch with her,” Siddely said. “But she would never even talk to me.”

  “I don’t know anything about it,” I said. “I hadn’t even heard from her until she contacted me about this deal.”

  “That was a stroke of luck,” Siddely said

  “Not bad,” I said.

  Siddely looked at me. “Jarvis offered me the job as vice-president and general counsel for Millennium.”

  I met his eyes. “If you’re still interested in it, you’ve got it.”

  He hesitated, then held out his hand. “We’ll do well,” he said.

  I smiled. “I know we will.”

  Finally, the meeting was over, and I went back to my office. I walked over to the small bar in the corner of the room and had myself a scotch on the rocks.

  Kim watched me. “How do you feel?”

  “Tired,” I said. I downed half the drink in one swallow. “Get Uncle Rocco for me.”

  “What do you want him for?” she asked.

  I stared at her. “He promised me five hundred million dollars and I haven’t seen a penny of it.”

  6

  HE WAS SITTING in my office when I returned from lunch. He rose from his chair and smiled at me. “Mr. Stevens.” He held out a business card.

  I read it quickly. It was a European type card, much larger than an American business card.

  * * *

  LEONARDO DA VINCI

  Director Financial Transactions

  Super-Sattel EuroSky Broadcast Corporation

  Canale 21 Liechtenstein

  * * *

  I looked puzzled.

  “My apologies, Mr. Stevens,” he said. “I did not mean to intrude, but Mr. Di Stefano assured your secretary that it would be all right.”

  Silently I walked to my desk and called Uncle Rocco on the speed dialer. “Congratulations,” he said. “I heard that you completed the deal.”

  “What do you have? Spies in my office?” I snapped. “First, you know about the deal by the time I come back from lunch, then you send an emissary to my office unannounced. I thought we agreed that I was to have some privacy in running the studio.”

  “It’s family,” he said. “There is no such thing as privacy with a family. Besides this has nothing to do with privacy. Leonardo is only there to balance our finances.”

  “Okay,” I said. “How?”

  “Relax,” Uncle Rocco replied. “Just leave it to Leonardo.” The receiver clicked off and I put down the telephone.

  Da Vinci was a tall man, about six three, broad-shouldered like an athlete, blue-eyed, with black hair and a neatly trimmed beard. He wore a black silk suit, Italian cut, white shirt and black tie. He held out his hand. “Just in case you’re wondering,” he said, laughing, “I have no talent as an artist.”

  I laughed with him. “Then how come the name?”

  “I thought it would be a more interesting name than Leonard Davidson,” he answered. “Something about the name Da Vinci always impresses people.”

  “It impressed me,” I said.

  He took an envelope from his inside breast pocket and gave it to me. I opened the envelope and quickly scanned the accounts listed on the paper it contained. It held all the advances I had made to Shepherd and all the new commitments I’d made for Millennium. The total added up to five hundred and ninety-five million.

  He looked at me. “Do you find the figures correct?”

  I nodded. “Yes. But I don’t understand how you discovered them so quickly.”

  “It is part of our business,” he said. “Now that you have agreed with the amounts, we’ll begin to settle our accounts.”

  “Good,” I said. “Then I’ll ask Jim Handley, my financial vice-president, to join us. He can help us direct the money into the correct account.”

  “Excellent,” he said.

  “By the way,” I asked, “will the checks you give us be drawn on U.S. banks or foreign?”

  “Checks are old-fashioned,” he said. “We’ll transfer the money directly into your bank accounts.”

  Handley came into the office just as Da Vinci opened a thick, clumsy attaché case and placed it on my desk. Quickly Da Vinci set up a lap-top computer and connected it to a ten-inch satellite disk, both powered by four six-volt batteries. He flipped the power switch, and light spilled onto the screen. The screen was blank until he turned the disk direction, and then letters in blue appeared on the screen: EUROSKY CANALE 21.

  He turned to me. “We’re ready for business.”

  I introduced the two men. Handley was curious about what was going on, but clever enough not to ask questions. Quickly I told him what was being done.

  He turned to Da Vinci. “Isn’t this against the law?”

  Da Vinci shook his head. “Not if you notify your bank in advance that you will make certain deposits in this fashion. After all, banks transfer and deposit between themselves in that manner all the time.”

  “What connection does Mr. Di Stefano have with EuroSky? And why does EuroSky want Millennium?” I asked.

  “As far as I know,” Da Vinci answered, “Mr. Di Stefano is one of the investors in EuroSky. And EuroSky is a new company created for the new open market of international television in Europe. EuroSky has already placed four satellites over Western and Eastern Europe, and they ar
e in direct competition with the British companies of Murdoch and Thames for the continental European market. And Millennium is one of the last companies that has over fifteen hundred feature films plus many other film subjects for distribution.”

  “Is it clean money?” Handley asked.

  “Yes,” Da Vinci said. “The money is coming from Lloyd’s Bank of London and Crédit Suisse in Geneva.” He paused for a moment. “In order to transfer the money to your accounts, I would appreciate it if you gave me the account numbers of each of the banks you want money transferred to.”

  I looked at Jim. “Okay, give him the numbers.”

  Jim was still nervous. “If we give you the account numbers, wouldn’t it be possible that you could make withdrawals from these accounts without our knowledge?”

  Da Vinci smiled. “No, not if you notify your banks that this method is to be used only for deposits into your account.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Let’s go.”

  The whole transaction took only about fifteen minutes, and then Da Vinci said, “You’ve got your money.”

  Jim looked at him. “How do we know? I don’t have any confirmation.”

  Da Vinci laughed. “Call your banks, they’ll tell you.”

  “Okay,” Jim said and walked over to my desk and picked up the telephone. It took him another twenty minutes to verify the deposits. He looked impressed as each bank confirmed that the money was already deposited into the accounts.

  Jim turned to me. “The first eighty-five million dollars you advanced to Shepherd is your own money, and I have authorized that money to be placed in the reserve account.”

  “Good,” I said.

  Jim continued, “We will then pay the other sums agreed to at the meeting.”

  I listed the payments to Jim. “The payments to Mrs. Jarvis and Mr. Shepherd will be paid as their paperwork is completed. As was agreed with Peachtree, one hundred million dollars will be put into the production account and a separate amount will be deposited for the acquisition of distribution rights to Star Island.”

  “Okay,” said Jim. “I’ve got it. Now I’ll get back to my office and start getting things organized.”

  Jim left, and I watched Da Vinci put his computer and his equipment back into his attaché case. He placed the attaché case on the floor and asked, “Are you planning to stay on with the studio?”

  “I don’t think so,” I said. “I know nothing about the entertainment business. It’s another world.”

  Da Vinci commented, “It’s no longer an entertainment business. It’s now communications. It’s becoming a new world.”

  I looked at him. “General Avionics is a big enough world for me. I’m not greedy.”

  Da Vinci shrugged his shoulders. “That’s up to you.” He looked at his watch. “It’s late, almost five o’clock. If you don’t have any plans tonight, why don’t you join me for dinner?”

  “I have no plans,” I said.

  “Good. Suppose we meet at the Palms on Santa Monica Boulevard at eight P.M.”

  “It’s a date. I’ll bring a girl.”

  Da Vinci smiled. “And so will I.”

  I waited until he had left my office and then called Uncle Rocco again. “It’s all finished,” I said. “Now what do we do?”

  “I still want you to think about my earlier proposition. We have a very big investment corporation and you could do very well with it.”

  “Is that company invested in EuroSky?” I asked.

  “Of course,” Uncle Rocco said. “We own it all. We have some of the most important motion-picture and broadcasting people in Europe to operate EuroSky.”

  “How much did that cost you?” I asked him.

  “Not that much,” Uncle Rocco said. “Maybe eleven billion dollars, but we will get more than fifty percent of that amount back in the first five years because we are leasing space on our satellites in Europe to telephone and other communication companies. They should give us about a billion a year of income.”

  I laughed. “I don’t know what you need me for. You’re doing very well on your own.”

  * * *

  THEY WERE STANDING six deep at the bar at the Palms at 8 P.M. I was glad I had asked Kim to call and make a reservation for us. We found Da Vinci at the bar, holding a drink, and with a worried expression on his face.

  “Have you spoken to Mr. Di Stefano in the last hour?” he asked.

  “No,” I said. “I spoke to him earlier this afternoon after we had completed our business. But not since.”

  “I am a little concerned. I tried to telephone him a few times and there is no answer at his apartment,” Da Vinci said.

  “That is strange,” I said. “There is always someone at his apartment.”

  “There’s been no answer,” he said quietly.

  “Let me try to get him,” I suggested. At the same time, my beeper went off. I looked on the tiny screen and saw a number that was unfamiliar to me.

  I turned to Kim. “Have a drink at the bar with Mr. Da Vinci, and I will return this call and then try to locate Uncle Rocco. I’ll only be a minute. I’ll use the car phone.”

  I was lucky. The nice thing about having a Corniche is the valet always parks the car in front of the restaurant. I slipped the valet a fiver as he unlocked the door. I got into the car and picked up the telephone. First I called Uncle Rocco’s number. The phone rang six times, but there was no answer. Then I dialed the other number. To my surprise, Uncle Rocco answered.

  “What took you so long?” he asked gruffly.

  “What’s happening? Where the hell are you?”

  “I’m in the Air France first-class lounge at JFK.”

  “What the hell are you doing there?” I asked.

  “I got word there’s a contract out on me,” he said.

  “Do you know who ordered it?” I asked him.

  “I have an idea. But I’ll have to clear it in Europe. Meanwhile I’ve got to stay undercover. So I’m renting a yacht in the South of France. I’ll stay on the boat until I get everything straightened out.”

  “How do I get in touch with you?” I asked.

  “I’ll let you know where I am and you arrange to meet me there as soon as I call,” he said.

  “I thought you said you were out of this business.”

  “I am out of the business,” Uncle Rocco said. “The trouble is there’s some assholes that won’t accept it. That’s why I want you to straighten them all out.”

  I groaned into the telephone. “Okay, Uncle Rocco. Call me. I’ll be there. Meanwhile, you take care of yourself.”

  “I will,” Uncle Rocco said.

  The phone went dead in my hand and I put it back into its cradle. Then I returned to the restaurant.

  Da Vinci looked up at me. “Did you try to reach Di Stefano?”

  “I got no answer from him either.” I shrugged. “Let’s have dinner now. We probably won’t hear from him until tomorrow.”

  “Where do you think he is?”

  I began to hear warning bells echoing in my head. “Mr. Di Stefano loves opera. He probably went into Manhattan to the Metropolitan Opera. He must have let his staff off for a couple of hours until he returns home.”

  Gigi, the manager of the Palms, led us to a table. We sat down and ordered drinks. “I thought you were bringing a date?”

  “I had invited Mrs. Jarvis, but I was stood up,” he answered. “I couldn’t reach her by telephone either.”

  7

  THE GREAT THING about the Palms is that you can really eat if you have an appetite. The potbellied waiter arrived with our drinks and announced, “We have a special tonight. Loch Ness Monsters. Six-pound lobsters!”

  Kim shook her head, smiling. “No way we could ever finish one of those.”

  I said, “How about splitting a four-pounder and then splitting a rare New York steak, a loaf of fried onion rings, and cottage fries?”

  Kim cut in quickly. “We’ll start with one of Gigi’s salads.”

  I
turned to Da Vinci. “What are you going to have?”

  “I’ll have a New York steak, medium rare,” he said. “And a side of spinach and a baked potato.”

  “How about a bottle of Chianti?” the waiter suggested.

  “Good enough,” I said.

  The waiter took off, and we sipped at our drinks. “How did you meet Mrs. Jarvis?” I asked Da Vinci.

  “I was her account manager at her bank in Paris,” he said.

  “Was she married to Jarvis at that time?” I asked.

  “No,” he answered. “About the time she was married, I went to work for EuroSky, and we lost touch.”

  “How did you tie up with EuroSky?” I asked.

  He laughed. “They needed a banker who knew computers. At that time there weren’t many of us working in Europe that had a knowledge of computers.”

  “Didn’t EuroSky advance money to Jarvis for Millennium Films?” I questioned.

  He looked at me with a completely open expression. “If they did,” he said, “I knew nothing about it, because I was just assigned to this project a couple of weeks ago.”

  The waiter had just brought out our salads when a small group of people passed us on the way to their own table. I recognized Thyme, the exotic black singer whom I had seen at Bradley’s party. One of the men with the group paused at our table and spoke to Da Vinci. “I didn’t expect you in town this soon.”

  “I had some special business,” Da Vinci said. “But I was planning to get in touch with you first thing in the morning.”

  The man, who was well-dressed, good-looking, and middle-aged, nodded. “You can reach me at the hotel tomorrow morning; I’m returning to Las Vegas in the afternoon.”

  Da Vinci said, “I’ll be in touch.” And the group moved on to their table. I thought it was curious that Da Vinci hadn’t introduced us to his friend.

  Kim said, “That black girl is Thyme. She has the number one hit on the charts right now. And I’ve heard that her boyfriend is a Las Vegas gangster.”

  Da Vinci smiled and continued eating his salad.

  Service at the Palms was efficient. Our entrees came through in short order. By 9:30 P.M. we had finished. When the waiter brought the bill, Da Vinci reached for the check. I put up my hand. “No way,” I said. “This is my town.” And I paid the bill.