Claudia leant forward, the dressing gown gaping open, and pulling Ken's head forward, kissed him softly and then more urgently, as his hands sought her breasts. But then he pulled away, while she softly asked , "Why stop, Ken?"
"I want to be able to come to your mother's house, look her in the eye, and say that I have kept you safe, as she trusted me to do so when we met down at the precinct house. If we have our date, or anything else which may come from our meeting, I am tarn certain that your mother would know if anything had happened between us, so I think we'd better stop."
Claudia gently took his face between her fingers, and gently kissed him on the lips, "Ken, that is the sweetest thing I've ever heard anyone say!"
Ken grinned as he held her closely, "And just about the hardest to do. Lord, Claudia, you're beautiful, and you must know what effect you have on any susceptible male; and a more susceptible male than me just ain't around!"
"I'd better put some clothes on, if you're going to be a gentleman," smiled Claudia, rising from his arms, "can I use the bedroom?"
"Sure, Claudia. The stuff I got from Mary should just about fit, and it's just so you can travel back, " Ken paused, "why travel? Why not stop here, let me go and pick up your things, and no-one will know you are anywhere in New York? You are safer with me, than anywhere else!" He watched her face as Claudia considered his proposal, and inwardly waited in anguished hope, for he did not want to be parted from the girl whose face had lodged within his heart.
Finally, Claudia smiled, and leaning forward, held him close once again, "I feel kinda safe right now, and I don't want to change that situation. If I stop, where will I sleep?"
"The bedroom, er, I'll drop the couch down for myself, it sorta turns into a bed, and it's not so bad. I have a shift off tomorrow, and I can go back wherever you are hidden, pick up your things, and bring them back here, Okay honey?"
Claudia moved towards the bedroom door, as she simply said, "In that case, I am not gonna bother getting dressed again. It's late, and I am tired. Coffee at seven, Oh slave of the lamp?"
Ken simply nodded as his guest disappeared into his bedroom, the borrowed dressing gown trailing behind her, and slowly closed the door, after turning and blowing a kiss towards him; he then pulled out the base of the couch, turning it into a bed, which was in truth distinctly inferior to the bed in the other room, but he wasn't going to complain.
Chapter 16
It was about ten-thirty in the morning before the first signs of the change began to appear on the screens and boards of the New York Stock Exchange, but there grew a steady selling pressure on the Common Stock offerings of the Continental Auto Corporation, as the price was marked down in jumps of ten, twenty and thirty points. The S.E.C. watch operation, specifically designated to note sudden changes in the complex structure of the exchange, and decide if any pressure broke the rules, swung its full operation into action, and the results were negative. "The selling is coming from all over the shop, J.G." reported one analyst to his boss, J.G. Wexley; "there ain't no way this is out of any organised firm, the selling spread is too big. Unless we step in, or get Continental to suspend voluntarily, the push just might slop over onto the rest of the board, and we are vulnerable right now, what with the jitters about interest rates, and Japan!"
The dealers meanwhile, who had at all times to ensure that the best interests of their clients were taken into consideration, marked the offerings down further, as more and more of the Continental Stock was unloaded on to the market, and no buyers were found to take the shares off the hands of the dealers. The price clicked down, passing one hundred & seven dollars a share, on the way towards one hundred & six ninety, when Wexley received a call from Nick Cavalieri. "Mr. Wexley, I'm informed you head the Watch at the N.Y.S.E., is that correct?"
J.G. Wexley, warned by a hastily scribbled note from the man who took the call, adopted his 'unconcerned approach' with his caller, "Yes, Mr. Cavalieri, I presume your call concerns the market pricing of your Stock offering?"
"You are damn right it is! This is some sort of a rig, and you gotta put a stop to it quick. We are a profitable corporation, with good figures and great production plants, and I demand that you stop the bunch of thieves who are trying to mark my company down into the dirt!"
"I'm sorry if you feel that we are somewhat short of action, here in the Exchange, Mr. Cavalieri, but nothing could be further from the truth. It is now two in the afternoon, the action started at ten-thirty this morning; and we have been able to categorically rule out concerted action from a predator, who wants to burn your share price down, and make it cheap. The selling pressure is too widespread for that, the offers to sell are coming from small and large stockholders, with no visible pattern that we, or any computer analysis, can unearth! Do you want us to suspend the shares from the board?"
"Godamm; thats' the last thing we should do! When the stock is re-listed it will probably drop like a stone, and whoever is planning this will pick up Continental at fire-sale prices. No, Mr. Wexley, I am convening an emergency Board meeting, and if your committee gives it's approval, I will be setting up a buy back operation, to wipe up all shares as and when they come on to the market!"
"Don't know if we could allow that, Mr. Cavalieri, the repurchase, by the issuer, of Common stock is in breach of the S.E.C. rules governing the conduct of companies listed on the Big Board. You might be accused of doing the same thing as whoever you are accusing right now. However, if you can prove conspiracy, the share sales and consequent repurchase can be declared null and void!"
"Yeah, I know that, but that could take years, and by that time, the company could be taken over for good, plus proving conspiracy, in this land where the law is subservient to the lawyers, is like trying to grip molasses. Mr. Wexley, you gotta help me!"
"Sorry, we are bound by the rules. Do you wish us to suspend your stock?"
"No, leave it for today, there is only another two hours, and then the market is closed. We'll have our meeting, and we will contact you, to say if we want the Stock suspended. Thanks, Mr. Wexley, speak to you soon!"
J.G.Wexley replaced the phone, and gazed around the room, tapping the glass in front of him, until all his analysts ceased work and looked back at him. "Do another search, based on everything you can think of, to try and find where this bear market on Continental has come from. I need answers, and I need them fast. There are a great many people out there, with a whole roomfull of money, who would just love to do the same to a whole raft of shares, as these guys are doing to Continental."
-------------'---------------
Bob Webster, whose interest in the value of Continental shares was at least the equal of Nick Cavalieri, was seated in his office, with his computer latched on to the commercial Stockwatch share price advisory service; watching the price click down on the Continental price with horror. His phone rang, and a well-known voice rasped, "Bob, what the hell is happening? You promised me a gradual pressure on the price, a slight acceleration on our previous message; and what have we got? A goddam stampede! What the hell went wrong? Can you put it right, and reverse the trend?"
"Mr. Lazarus, I think the sets somehow got mixed up in the time between final implant, copying and issue to the Seeton Harland Communications people, for delivery to the T.V.Stations nationwide, The second segment should have been as we already agreed, a stronger message against the Stiletto and Sabre lines, and a line saying perhaps the watcher should maybe consider unloading, nothing stronger than that. The last clips, which said that Continental was maybe on the skids, was supposed to go out in two weeks time, and only be shown for three nights. I can't reverse the damn things overnight, Mr. Lazarus, it took me two months just to get the first implant right, and the only thing we can do is to get the clips recalled, nationwide, for review. We can run the other clips, the first ones, but until I get a chance to check, not show any other of the series."
"Send out the word now, nationwide, get those ads pulled and replaced; then tell me when y
ou have completed the job, you useless heap of dogshit! If there is an investigation, they might unearth our previous buying, even if it is concealed behind six hundred or six thousand nominee buyers. We have decided to go into the market openly tomorrow morning, and pick up as much as we can at the lower price, because the Continental stock is going to bounce back, without the reinforcement of the message. Use any excuse you can dredge up, quality of picture, worries about the health of Mother Theresa, anything; but stop those commercials, you hear!"
------------- '---------------
Joe Kozcinski was working late, as were many of his compatriots at Continental, as the Board had just broken up after it's emergency session, with the news in on the screens showing the relentless pressure against the share price had subsided a little, before the Exchanges closed, but with the price down by almost a dollar seventy-five. The whole head office complex, having the news beamed straight onto their desks, knew that someone had put them into play, but the trouble was, there had been virtually no buyers, so the classic 'bear' play of picking up the parcels as they came free had not been followed through. Nick Cavalieri had been almost incandescent, and Joe, for one, hadn't blamed him in the slightest. He finished his own work, delayed as it had been by the scramble to get any information on the market plunge of the share price, closed up his briefcase, and headed for his car. The car jockey had become accustomed to his services being spurned, but it meant that Joe was going to have to go to a commercial car-wash, for his Stiletto was truly dirty, and there had already been some comments. He swung out on to the road towards the freeway, and spotted the big Cadillac with the odd-coloured wing as it moved into position two cars behind him, telling him that the police were once more giving him a spin. He sat back, and gently manoeuvred the Stiletto from lane to lane, giving the impression of a driver trying to gain a non-existent advantage.
The two detectives, who had picked up the Continental executive as he passed onto the freeway, sat back and studied the surrounding traffic, as the whole stream rolled steadily along the way towards the many homes of the drivers. Lesley Jordan, who this time was sitting back in the passenger seat, suddenly sat forward, and pointed, "That Lincoln, the rusty one, he's giving our taxpayer a close tail; look, he's changed again, right up close. See, he's one car behind him!"
The big black detective, gripped the wheel firmly, and murmured, "Freeze out, I think!" before accelerating forward in the outside lane to come level with the Lincoln, then gently making space for himself to come up by the tailing car. Lesley then slapped the blue flasher on to the roof of the big Cadillac, and the siren sounded at the same time, with Lesley waving the driver to slow down and stop in the 'Emergency' lane. The trouble with that series of manoeuvres was that it expects the recipient to respond by slowing and stopping. As the Lincoln driver, who had been following the big Stiletto without being aware that he too was being tailed, panicked, he sliced down the inside, passed Joe as though he was parked and raced forward through holes in the traffic, with the police Cadillac in pursuit. The siren blatting out, Lesley grabbed the microphone, and informed the deskman at Central that they were in pursuit, and asked for back-up cars to try and block exits.
The Lincoln driver however, threw the car into the outside lane, then simply fishtailed round , over the separating divider kerb, swung wide and tried to go in the opposite direction. Unfortunately, an eighteen wheeler semi-articulated truck, loaded with a full base of scrap, made a move into the centre lane at the same time, picked the Lincoln up as though it was plywood, and scraped it all down the road, shedding parts and sparks as it slowed. The big truck tore itself free, and stopped about thirty yards away from the wreck, and the driver ran back to the Lincoln, but the Lincoln driver had taken the steering wheel full in the chest, and he died as the horrified trucker stood watching. The two detectives, having succeeded in reversing their own car, stood together as the long line of traffic slowly started sorting itself out. Detective O'Rourke shook his head in disbelief; "That's twice someone has run fast after we picked them up for being on this guy's tail. Some doll waltzes in to the Precinct, and ices our friend Martinez; and this guy does something lunatic to escape from us. What does this guy Kozcinski have, or know, that is so important?
"Murphy spoke to Costello, at Narcotics, he being the one who asked for the checks on Kozcinski in the first place, and he reckons Kozcinski knows diddly. According to Costello, he's just a taxpayer!"
"I reckon, with two guys dead, one definitely a 'hit', and the other plain unlucky, but equally unwilling to talk, maybe our Mr. Kozcinski knows somepun, trouble being he don't know he knows it!"
Joe, who had seen the start of the pursuit, but not the finish, eased his car on to his driveway, and realised that Alex' car was not already parked. He picked up his mobile, and keyed in her carphone number. The ring tone sounded, then Alex's voice cut in, as she talked into the remote microphone, "Alex Kozcinski here, who's calling?"
"Alex, it's Joe, you got a problem?"
"No, honey, I've just been showing a house to a couple from Cincinatti; I think they're gonna buy, but..."
Joe cut her off, "Honey, I got followed again this afternoon, on my way back from Continental. The cops picked him up, and he ran, but I didn't see what happened afterwards. Are you okay, honey?"
"No signs of anyone regular behind, but I'll keep to the main roads, and I'm heading for home right now."
"If you spot anyone trailing you, Alex; just don't hesitate, call that number the police listed, and anyone who is bothering you will think they were hit with a bazooka! Take care, my love!"
Joe Kozcinski opened up the front door, and started making preparations for the evening, but he didn't get very far before the big Cadillac with the unmatched wing rolled up the drive, and parked behind his Stiletto. Joe went out the front to greet the two detetctives, who brought him up to speed on the happenings on the freeway, and the death of the man who had tailed him.
"Mr. Kozcinski , we left the Highway boys to deal with the dead man because we needed to talk; we think you were followed before, and again possibly because you either know something, or someone is worried that you might figure something out, and they are getting ready to maybe waste you!"
Joe stared at the big detective, whose face was stern and solemn, "That's ridiculous, Detective O'Rourke, I am a senior VP and exec. at Continental; sure I know lotsa of things about the auto industry, but nothing worth killing me for!"
"As I say, maybe it is because you may figure something out. We found a scanner on the car of the guy that we peeled off your tail last week, but there was no sign of a pick-up or transmitter on your car. Have you had your home checked for bugs or surveillance mikes? Haven't you been having some share price trouble today?,"
"I bought one of these 'Bug Detector' gadgets, and it did pick up what I thought was a transmitter in one of the offices, but I checked around the office, and here; found nothing at all!"
"Would you let us have a quick look at your home, Mr. Kozcinski , I promise we won't disturb anything, or intrude, but those detector things will only pick up radio transmitters; they don't pick up direct mikes, or tape machines. Someone wants to keep tabs on you, they are gonna do it properly!"
Joe stood aside, and the two detectives walked silently into the big living room of the Kozcinski house, and proceeded to the telephones, one in the kitchen on a wall, the other on a desk in the corner of the big room. Each opened the body of the phone, and checked inside, then unscrewed the mouthpiece of the phone itself. Nodding silently, they replaced the covers, while simultaneously raising their thumbs in salute, before going along to the bedrooms. Lesley Jordan checked the phone by Joe's bedside, and her signal was the same as the other two. Signalling the other two to follow, the detective walked through, and out onto the garden terrace, before speaking, "All your phones are bugged, Mr. Kozcinski , and it has been done by professionals. The mikes bypass the cut-off, and transmit directly to a junction point, probably somewhere on you
r roof, from which there is probably a radio link which could be focussed anywhere. Do you want us to locate and pull the plug, or shall we wait and see what happens? You see, if we just disable the transmitter, maybe we can get someone to come looking, and try and fix it"
Joe nodding in agreement, the two police officers walked slowly around the perimeter of the big house, finally pausing and gazing at a small plastic box, screwed on to the eaves, next to the incoming telephone connection point. Pulling a garden seat over, O'Rourke lifted himself level with the box, and gently lifted the cover off, nodding to himself as a small collection of electronics, together with a battery, was uncovered. He smoothed back the connecting wiring, then unclipped the battery from the pack. Jordan asked, "You gonna leave it like that, Moses?"
"If you approve, Mr. Kozcinski , we can get our boys in this evening to set up a little calling card for whoever placed this device. What we will put in is a little device which will warn of anyone tring to re-connect the system. We shall make it look like the battery has slipped loose, and all they need do is push it home, but they will be warning us that they have been, and we can then do all sorts of nice things to find out who the bad guys are, if you say the word!"
Joe hesitated, then shrugged. "I'll tell my wife what is happening, and I know she will understand, but I just can't get over the feeling that someone had been listening to us, in our home! God, it makes my skin crawl!"
"Mr. Kozcinski , this is small potatoes compared to what some of the real low lifes get up to. You leave this with us, and we guarantee that your lives will not be interrupted. what we would like to have you do is try and figure out why your home is bugged! We can check your office as well, if you agree, sort of clean around?"
Continental Attack: Murder and Mayhem in Detroit's Auto Industry Page 15
