The Scarletti Inheritance

by Ludlum, Robert

  ‘Won, madame’ Claude Daudet was outwardly cool but inwardly petrified. Perhaps his Zurich associates did not know the French people. A firing squad was not out of the question. ‘You are correct. Such troubles are to be avoided. So, then what is next? What is it you prepare for us eh?’

  Elizabeth paused. She wasn’t quite sure why. It was an instinct, an intuitive need to turn around and look at the field accountant.

  Matthew Canfield had not budged from his position by the wall. He was a pathetic sight. His jacket had fallen away from his left shoulder revealing the dark black sling, his right hand still plunged in his pocket. He seemed to be swallowing continuously, trying to keep himself aware of his surroundings, Elizabeth noticed that he now avoided looking at Ulster Scarlett. He seemed, in essence, to be trying to hang on to his sanity.

  ‘Excuse me, gentlemen.’ Elizabeth rose from her chair and crossed to Canfield. She whispered quietly to him. ‘Take hold of yourself. I demand it! There’s nothing to fear. Not in this room!’

  Canfield spoke slowly, without moving his lips. She could barely hear him, but what she heard startled her. Not for its content, but for the way in which he said it. Matthew Canfield was now among the ranks in this room in Zurich. He had joined them; he had become a killer, too.

  ‘Say what you have to say and get it over with—I want him. I’m sorry, but I want him. Look at him now, lady, because he’s a dead man.’

  ‘Control yourself! Such talk will serve neither of us.’ She turned and walked back to her chair. She stood behind it while she spoke. ‘As you may have noticed, gentlemen, my young friend has been seriously wounded. Thanks to all of you… or one of you, in an attempt to prevent my reaching Zurich. The act was cowardly and provocative in the extreme.’

  The men looked at each other.

  Daudet, whose imagination would not stop conjuring pictures of national disgrace or the firing squad, answered quickly. ‘Why would any here take such action, Madame Scarlatti? We are not maniacs. We are businessmen. No one sought to prevent your coming to Zurich. Witness, madame, we are all here.’

  Elizabeth looked at the man called Kroeger.

  ‘One of you violently opposed this conference. We were fired upon less than a half hour ago.’

  The men looked at Heinrich Kroeger. Some were becoming angry. This Kroeger was, perhaps, too reckless.

  ‘No.’ He answered simply and emphatically, returning their stares. ‘I agreed to your coming. If I’d wanted to stop you, I’d have stopped you.’

  For the first time since the meeting began, Heinrich Kroeger looked at the sporting goods salesman, at the far end of the room, half concealed in the poor light. He had reacted with only moderate surprise when he realized Elizabeth Scarlatti had brought him to Zurich. Moderate because he knew Elizabeth’s penchant for employing the unusual, both in methods and personnel, and because she probably had no one else around she could browbeat into silence as easily as this money-hungry social gadfly. He’d be a convenient chauffeur, a manservant. Kroeger hated the type.

  Or was he anything else?

  Why had the salesman stared at him? Had Elizabeth told him anything? She wouldn’t be that big a fool. The man was the sort who’d blackmail in a minute.

  One thing was sure. He’d have to be killed.

  But who had tried to kill him previously? Who had tried to stop Elizabeth? And why?

  The same question was being considered by Elizabeth Scarlatti. For she believed Kroeger when he disavowed the attempts on their lives.

  ‘Please continue, Madame Scarlatti.’ It was Fritz Thyssen, his cherubic face still flushed with anger over Elizabeth’s disclosure of his Cairo trade. He had removed the booklet from the center of the table.

  ‘I shall.’ She approached the side of her chair but did not sit down. Instead, she reached once more into her briefcase. ‘I have one thing further, gentlemen. With it we can conclude our business, and decisions can be made. There is a copy for each of the twelve remaining investors. Those with aides will have to share them. My apologies, Mr. Kroeger, I find I haven’t one for you.’ From her position at the end of the table she distributed twelve slender manila envelopes. They were sealed, and as the men passed them down, the investors taking one apiece, it was apparent that each found it difficult not to rip open the top and withdraw the contents at once. But none wished to betray such obvious anxiety.

  Finally, as each of the twelve held his envelope in front of him, one by one the men began to open them.

  For nearly two minutes the only sound was the rustling of pages. Otherwise, silence. Even breathing was seemingly suspended. The men from Zurich were mesmerized by what they saw. Elizabeth spoke.

  ‘Yes, gentlemen. What you hold in your hands is the scheduled liquidation of the Scarlatti Industries… So that you have no illusions of doubt concerning the validity of this document, you will note that after each subdivision of holdings is typed the names of the individuals, corporations, or syndicates who are the purchasers… Every one of those mentioned, the individuals as well as the organizations, are known to each of you. If not personally, then certainly by reputation. You know their capabilities, and I’m sure you’re not unaware of their ambitions. Within the next twenty-four hours they will own Scarlatti.’

  For most of the Zurich men Elizabeth’s sealed information was the confirmation of the whispered rumors. Word had reached them that something unusual was taking place at Scarlatti. Some sort of unloading under strange circumstances.

  So this was it. The head of Scarlatti was getting out.

  ‘A massive operation, Madame Scarlatti.’ Olaffsen’s low Swedish voice vibrated throughout the room. ‘But to repeat Daudet’s question, what is it you prepare us for?’

  ‘Please take note of the bottom figure on the last page, gentlemen. Although I’m quite sure you all have.’ The rustle of pages. Each man had turned swiftly to the final page. ‘It reads seven hundred and fifteen million dollars—The combined, immediately convertible assets of this table, placed at the highest figure is one billion, one hundred and ten million… Therefore, a disparity of three hundred and ninety-five million exists between us… Another way to approach this difference is to calculate it from the opposite direction. The Scarlatti liquidation will realize sixty-four point four percent of this table’s holdings—if, indeed, you gentlemen could convert your personal assets in such a manner as to preclude financial panics.’

  Silence.

  A number of the Zurich men reached for their first envelopes. The breakdowns of their own worth.

  One of these was Sydney Masterson, who turned to Elizabeth with an unamused smile. ‘And what you’re saying, I presume, Madame Scarlatti, is that this sixty-four point plus percent is the club you hold over our heads?’

  ‘Precisely, Mr. Masterson.’

  ‘My dear lady, I really must question your sanity—-’

  ‘I wouldn’t, if I were you.’

  ‘Then I shall, Frau Scarlatti.’ I. G. Farben’s von Schnitzler spoke in a disagreeable manner, lounging back in his chair as if toying verbally with an imbecile. ‘To accomplish what you have must have been a costly sacrifice… I wonder to what purpose? You cannot buy what there is not to sell… We are not a public corporation. You cannot force into defeat something which does not exist!’ His German lisp was pronounced, his arrogance every bit as unattractive as reputed. Elizabeth disliked him intensely.

  ‘Quite correct, von Schnitzler.’

  ‘Then, perhaps’—the German laughed—’you have been a foolish woman. I would not wish to absorb your losses. I mean, really, you cannot go to some mythical Baumeister and tell him you have more funds than we—therefore, he must drive us out into the streets!’

  Several of the Zurich men laughed.

  ‘That, of course, would be the simplest, would it not? The appeal to one entity, negotiating with one power. It’s a shame that I can’t do that. It would be so much easier, so much less costly… But I’m forced to take another road, an expe
nsive one… I should put that another way. I have taken it, gentlemen. It has been accomplished. The time is running out for its execution.’

  Elizabeth looked at the men at Zurich. Some had their eyes riveted on her—watching for the slightest waver of confidence, the smallest sign of bluff. Others fixed their stares on inanimate objects—caring only to filter the words, the tone of her voice, for a false statement or a lapse of judgment. These were men who moved nations with a single gesture, a solitary word.

  ‘At the start of tomorrow’s business, subject to time zones, enormous transfers of Scarlatti capital will have been made to the financial centers of the five nations represented at this table. In Berlin, Paris, Stockholm, London, and New York, negotiations have already been completed for massive purchases on the open market of the outstanding shares of your central companies… Before noon of the next business day, gentlemen, Scarlatti will have considerable, though, of course, minority ownership in many of your vast enterprises… Six hundred and seventy million dollars’ worth!… Do you realize what this means, gentlemen?’

  Kindorf roared, ‘You will drive up the prices and makes us fortunes! You will own nothing!’

  ‘My dear lady, you are extraordinary.’ Innes-Bowen’s textile prices had remained conservative. He was overjoyed at the prospects.

  D’Almeida, who realized she could not enter his Franco-Italian rails, took another view. ‘You cannot purchase one share of my property, madame!’

  ‘Some of you are more fortunate than others, Monsieur D’Almeida.’

  Leacock, the financier, the gentlest trace of a brogue in his cultivated voice, spoke up. ‘Granting what you say, and it is entirely possible, Madame Scarlatti, what have we suffered?… We have not lost a daughter, but gained a minor associate.’ He turned to the others who, he hoped, could find humour in his analogy.

  Elizabeth held her breath before speaking. She waited until the men of Zurich were once again focused on her.

  ‘I said before noon Scarlatti would be in the position I outlined… One hour later a tidal wave will form in the Kurfuerstendamm in Berlin and end in New York’s Wall Street! One hour later Scarlatti will divest itself of these holdings at a fraction of their cost! I have estimated three cents on the dollar—Simultaneously, every bit of information Scarlatti has learned of your questionable activities will be released to the major wire services in each of your countries… You might sustain slander by itself, gentlemen. You will not be the same men when it is accompanied by financial panic! Some of you will remain barely intact. Some will be wiped out. The majority of you will be affected disastrously!’

  After the briefest moment of shocked silence, the room exploded. Aides were questioned peremptorily. Answers were bellowed to be heard.

  Heinrich Kroeger rose from his chair and screamed at the men. ‘Stop! Stop! You damn fools, stop it! She’d never do it! She’s bluffing!’

  ‘Do you really think so?’ Elizabeth shouted above the voices.

  ‘I’ll kill you, you bitch!’

  ‘You are demented, Frau Scarlatti!’

  ‘Try it… Kroeger! Try it!’ Matthew Canfield stood by Elizabeth, his eyes bloodshot with fury as he stared at Ulster Stewart Scarlett.

  ‘Who the hell are you, you lousy peddler?’ The man called Kroeger, hands gripping the table, returned Canfield’s stare and screeched to be heard by the salesman.

  ‘Look at me good! I’m your executioner!’

  ‘What!’

  The man called Heinrich Kroeger squinted his mis-shapen eyes. He was bewildered. Who was this parasite? But he could not take the time to think. The voices of the men of Zurich had reached a crescendo. They were now shouting at each other.

  Heinrich Kroeger pounded the table. He had to get control. He had to get them quiet. ‘Stop it!… Listen to me! If you’ll listen to me, I’ll tell you why she can’t do it! She can’t do it, I tell you!’

  One by one the voices became quieter and finally trailed off into silence. The men of Zurich watched Kroeger. He pointed at Elizabeth Scarlatti.

  ‘I know this bitch-woman! I’ve seen her do this before! She gets men together, powerful men, and frightens them. They go into panic and sell out! She gambles on fear, you cowards! On fear!’

  Daudet spoke quietly. ‘You have answered nothing. Why can’t she do as she says?’

  Kroeger did not take his eyes off Elizabeth Scarlatti as he replied. ‘Because to do it would destroy everything she’s ever fought for. It would collapse Scarlatti!’

  Sydney Masterson spoke just above a whisper. ‘That would appear to be obvious. The question remains unanswered.’

  ‘She couldn’t live without that power! Take my word for it! She couldn’t live without it!’

  ‘That’s an opinion,’ said Elizabeth Scarlatti facing her son at the opposite end of the table. ‘Do you ask the majority of those at this table to risk everything on your opinion?’

  ‘God damn you!’

  ‘This Kroeger’s right, honey.’ The Texas drawl was unmistakable. ‘You’ll ruin yourself. You won’t have a pot to piss in.’

  ‘Your language matches the crudity of your operations, Mr. Landor.’

  ‘I don’t give pig piss for words, old lady. I do about money, and that’s what we’re talkin’ about. Why do you want to pull this here crap?’

  ‘That I’m doing it is sufficient, Mr. Landor—Gentlemen, I said time was running out. The next twenty-four hours will either be a normal Tuesday or a day which will never be forgotten in the financial capitals of our world—Some here will survive. Most of you will not. Which will it be, gentlemen?… I submit that in light of everything I’ve said, it’s a poor fiscal decision wherein the majority allows the minority to cause its destruction.’

  ‘What is it you want of us?’ Myrdal was a cautious bargainer. ‘A few might rather weather your threats than accept your demands—Sometimes I think it is all a game. What are your demands?’

  ‘That this… association be disbanded at once. That all financial and political ties in Germany with whatever factions be severed without delay! That those of you who have been entrusted with appointments to the Allied Controls Commission resign immediately!’

  ‘No! No! No! No!’ Heinrich Kroeger was enraged. He banged his fist with all his might upon the table. This organization has taken years to build! We will control the economy of Europe. We will control all Europe! We will do it!’

  ‘Hear me, gentlemen! Mr. Myrdal said it’s a game! Of course, it’s a game! A game we expend our lives on. Our souls on! It consumes us, and we demand more and more and more until, at last, we crave our own destruction—Herr Kroeger says I can’t live without the power I’ve sought and gained. He may be right, gentlemen! Perhaps it’s time for me to reach that logical end, the end which I now crave and for which I’m willing to pay the price… Of course, I’ll do as I say, gentlemen. I welcome death!’

  ‘Let it be yours, then, not ours.’ Sydney Masterson understood.

  ‘So be it, Mr. Masterson. I’m not overwhelmed, you know. I leave to all of you the necessity of coping with this strange new world we’ve entered. Don’t think for a minute, gentlemen, that I can’t understand you! Understand what you’ve done. Most horridly, why you’ve done it!… You look around your personal kingdoms and you’re frightened. You see your power threatened—by theories, governments, strange-sounding concepts which eat away at your roots. You have an overpowering anxiety to protect the feudal system which spawned you. And well you should, perhaps. It won’t last long… But you will not do it this way!’

  ‘Since you understand so, why do you stop us? This undertaking protects all of us. Ultimately yourself as well. Why do you stop us?’ D’Almeida could lose the Franco-Italian rails and survive, if only the remainder could be saved.

  ‘It always starts that way. The greater good—Let’s say I stop you because what you’re doing is a far greater blemish than it is a cure. And that’s all I’ll say about it!’

  ‘From you, that�
�s ludicrous! I tell you again, she won’t do it!’ Kroeger pounded the flat of his hand on the table, but no one paid much attention to him.

  ‘When you say time is running out, Madame Scarlatti, how do you mean it? From what you said, I gathered time had run out. The expensive road had been taken…’

  ‘There’s a man in Geneva, Mr. Masterson, who’s awaiting a phone call from me. If he receives that phone call, a cable will be sent to my offices in New York. If that cable arrives, the operation is canceled. If it doesn’t, it’s executed on schedule.’

  ‘That’s impossible! Such complexity untangled with a cablegram? I don’t believe you.’ Monsieur Daudet was certain of ruin.

  ‘I assume considerable financial penalties by the action.’

  ‘You assume more than that, I would suspect, madame, You’ll never be trusted again. Scarlatti will be isolated!’

  ‘It’s a prospect, Mr. Masterson. Not a conclusion. The marketplace is flexible… Well, gentlemen? Your answer?’

  Sydney Masterson rose from his chair. ‘Make your phone call. There’s no other choice, is there, gentlemen?’

  The men of Zurich looked at each other. Slowly they began to get out of their chairs, gathering the papers in front of them.

  ‘It’s finished. I am out of it.’ Kindorf folded the manila envelope and put it in his pocket.

  ‘You’re a beastly tiger. I shouldn’t care to meet you in the arena with an army at my back.’ Leacock stood erect.

  ‘You may be bullshitter, but I’m not gonna slip on it!’ Landor nudged Gibson, who found it difficult to adjust.

  ‘We can’t be sure—That’s our problem. We can’t be sure,’ said Gibson.

  ‘Wait! Wait! Wait a minute!’ Heinrich Kroeger began to shout. ‘You do this! You walk out! You’re dead!… Every God damn one of you leeches is dead! Leeches! Yellow-bellied leeches!… You suck our blood; you make agreements with us. Then you walk out?… Afraid for your little businesses? You God damn Jew bastards! We don’t need you! Any of you! But you’re going to need us! We’ll cut you up and feed you to dogs! God damn swine!’ Kroeger’s face was flushed. His words spewed out, tumbling over one another.