But no. That couldn’t be. He’d picked her up after lunch and they’d spent all afternoon driving around Ticino. To be sure, he’d kept everything on the up and up the entire time. Until he’d dropped her back at the hotel.
“Why don’t we dine together this evening?” he’d said. Where? A little restaurant in the village where Mathew lived. Maybe she’d like to see his villa after dinner. For a nightcap. All right?
She’d left no doubt whatsoever that it would be all right. So it had been agreed. Doc would pick her up at eight. That was in half an hour; she’d better get moving.
Doc was just stepping into his car in Garona; actually it was Marvin’s MG. It seemed like a more appropriate vehicle for the occasion. Which was to be the not-so-subtle seduction of Deborah Luckman.
“Well,” he thought as he wheeled through the gates, “at least she has a nice face and big knockers.”
But he knew he was kidding himself. Because he’d have to bring her back to the villa for the crucial stages of the operation. And that would mean eventually, in fact inevitably, his bedroom. Which was the place where he’d discovered that Shireen Firdausi was the girl he wanted— not just for one night stands, but for real. Christ, here he was forty-four years old, and acting like some seventeen-year-old nit! But goddamnit, he thought, she’s everything I want. She can mean happiness. That was a word he’d almost forgotten. But since Shireen had shared his life for those eight glorious days in summer, it was a word that could no longer be forgotten. In fact, even now when he thought of her he felt a gut ache. They actually exchanged letters every day! And he phoned her twice a week. Yet neither of them really ever had anything to either write or say. But he could hardly wait until the mail arrived each morning, or until Wednesdays and Saturdays when he could hear her voice again. And to top everything off, this was bloody Saturday! He had picked up the phone probably ten times, but somehow, knowing what was scheduled for this evening, he could not bring himself to place the call. Shit!
At eight on the dot he pulled up in front of the Villa Castagnola. Debbie was waiting for him in the lobby. She made a smashing impact. The fact that her little black dress was buttoned up to the neck only emphasized her superb body. She had that healthy, suntanned, California-girl look, in spite of her maturity. The Italians in the lobby were almost going off their nut as they imagined themselves sinking into that magnificent body of delicious female flesh. For all their charm, Italians are not terribly imaginative when it comes to sex. They like it quick, hot, and ample: like spaghetti and meatballs at lunchtime. The disappointment was universal when Doc arrived to snatch the prize from their eager clutches. But since generations, Italians have learned to live with defeat; and at least half a dozen mamas enjoyed unexpectedly vigorous matings later that evening as a result of the visions which Debbie had given rise to in the lobby at eight.
Even Doc was put slightly off his stride when he saw her. By gawd, he thought, this is one of the nicest pieces of ass I’ve met up with in many a year. Debbie, in the privacy of her mind, had exactly the same reaction. Both were suddenly tense when they greeted each other, in spite of the fact that they had spent the entire afternoon together.
This tenseness remained with them all the way up to Garona, and even through the meal at the local restaurant. It was as if both knew what was going to happen, but neither dared bring it out into the open. Until Doc had paid the check.
“You still interested in that nightcap?” he asked.
She looked straight into his eyes without saying a word, and then just pushed back her chair. Doc was immediately on his feet, and when he touched her elbow to guide her toward the exit, both his hand and her arm were moist.
They took the car, even though they only had to go 100 meters. The courtyard was lit, as was the swimming pool, when they entered the grounds. But the house lay in darkness. It remained that way except for a small table lamp in the living room, and the glow of the fireplace, which some invisible hand seemed to have lit not long before their arrival. Debbie noticed this, but said nothing. She settled into the deep settee facing it. There had been a chill in the air outside, especially in the open MG. Here in the villa, everything was warm and cozy. There was a smell of burning wood in the air, which soon mingled with the bouquet of cognac.
“Mm,” whispered Debbie, as Doc sat down at her side, “this is what it’s all about, isn’t it?”
Doc surprised himself by agreeing, and not just with words. The only flaw was that Debbie happened to be the wrong person to share this moment. But there was no denying the fact that she was a tremendously attractive girl. This was felt beyond any doubt in Doc’s loins, so much so that he lost control of the situation. This was to be the time for carefully filling in the story of exactly what Debbie’s husband was up to. But instead he found his hands unbuttoning the little black dress, while Debbie’s hands were busy at his belt. They were both on the rug in front of the fireplace within seconds, and when Doc entered her he could feel her trembling, pushing, enveloping him all at the same time in one tremendous moment, a moment which lasted but a short time before he ejaculated into her with a loud groan which was shared, and repeated, by Debbie, as her body clung to keep him within her as long as possible. Her convulsions finally began to ebb, and with a sigh, she relaxed in Doc’s arms.
“Thank you, Mathew,” she said, in the softest of voices, as her hand wandered ever so gently to his cheek.
Doc wanted to feel ashamed, but he couldn’t. Because he could not help but feel a deep liking for this strange woman. Not love, no. But a warmness, a recognition that, in many ways, they were two of a kind. People who had kept their emotions under control for so long that they were almost afraid to let them leak out into the open ever again. Yet both had done so, and both were happy that it had been with each other.
They did not finish their cognac. Instead Doc took her by the hand, and without a word, led her up the staircase to his bedroom. Under the covers, they were almost immediately together again.But this time it lasted for a long time. The violence of their first meeting was replaced by a mutual desire to extend, to hold on to, the total physical pleasure they had discovered they were able to provide.
By four in the morning, Debbie felt fucked to a degree that was wildly beyond anything she thought possible. Then she fell into a deep sleep. So did Doc.
It was 9:30 the next morning when both woke. The first words came from Debbie:
“Mathew?”
“Yes.”
“Any regrets?”
“Don’t be silly. And you?”
She leaned on top of him, took his head between both hands and bestowed a single kiss. Then, in a sudden whirl of action she was out of bed.
“I’m happy,” she said, “and I’m hungry. So let’s both take a bath— together—and then have breakfast.”
They splashed around like little kids for at least half an hour. When they descended the stairs afterwards, the aroma of bacon and eggs was there to greet them. So was Maria. She kept her eyes averted as she served them in the breakfast room; it would be more difficult for her to daydream about Doc after this.
“Mathew,” said Debbie, suddenly. “You do know that I’m married, don’t you?”
“Of course. But you hardly think that I’m so indiscreet as . . .”
“I didn’t mean that. It’s just that, somehow, I want to tell you more about Donald.”
“Look, Debbie, I don’t really want . . .”
Again she interrupted. “But I do. Because I don’t want you to think that I’m the unfaithful type. This is the only time I’ve deceived Donald in seventeen years.”
“Debbie, I believe you. It doesn’t matter.”
“But what I want to tell you is why. It’s been building up for a long time. Then, out of the blue, we were sent to Europe. I was sure everything would get better as a result. But Donald, instead of making this our second honeymoon like we planned, he just treated me like excess baggage. Dammit, Mathew, I refuse to be treate
d that way any longer!”
Doc just nodded.
“The last straw was on Thursday. He had the bloody nerve to go to the Near East, to Kuwait, with another man! Leaving me here to twiddle my thumbs. And just because of a crazy scheme involving some bank here and a silver mine in Iran.”
Doc had planned to use Debbie for all it was worth. But now? After last night? Not so easy. Still he had a job to do.
“Tell me more.”
“I don’t know any more. But why are you now so interested in my husband?”
“I’ve got reasons. But, take my suggestion for what it’s worth: it is that you forget about this whole thing. Just blank it out of your mind. You are not going to help yourself, your husband, or me by getting involved.”
Doc got up, and moved behind Debbie. He touched her shoulder, and then began to slowly caress her hair.
Maria came back into the breakfast room with fresh coffee. But when she saw the two of them, she stopped and fled back into the kitchen. What was that woman trying to do!
Ten minutes later Debbie and Doc were on their way down the twisting mountain road leading back to Lugano. He apologized for not being able to have lunch with her. It didn’t matter, she pointed out. Her husband would probably be back in the hotel before noon anyway. What more was there to say? He left her standing in a daze outside the Villa Castagnola. And then sped back into the center of town.
13
ALBERT, the prince, and Marvin were somber as Doc filled them in. When Doc was done, Albert spoke:
“It doesn’t make sense.”
“What do you mean,” answered Doc violently, “we’re sitting on top of a mint and they are going to try to take it away. They’ll blow the whistle on us unless we deal. Remember, Albert, your old man and his pals are not exactly elders of the Mormon church.”
“But that’s what doesn’t make sense. Big American banks don’t think or do things that way. There’s got to be something else. Somebody else. Didn’t you say that that woman mentioned that her husband was down on the Gulf with another man?”
“Yes.”
“Did she further identify him?”
“No. But I had the feeling he was not from that bank.”
“How could they possibly know about that mine?” This from the prince.
“Maybe Firdausi’s double-crossing us.” That from Doc. Who then glared at the prince. “Are you guys up to some new fancy tricks?”
The prince just sat there dumbfounded.
Albert interrupted. “No, that’s not possible.”
“Why not?”
“We’ve got Firdausi 100 percent in our hands. Don’t you remember the terms of those loan agreements, where we provided Firdausi with working capital? We’ve put $20 million of the bank’s money into that venture down there—on top of the original investment. Firdausi has personally cosigned every note. They are all callable within thirty days. And if he can’t pay up, we have the right to take over his half of the venture, and he knows it.”
“Maybe,” said Doc reluctantly, “but maybe he’s trying to use these California guys to take over the bank in order to get off the hook. Then he’d have that mine all to himself.”
“No, Doc,” said Albert, “because if somebody else takes over, they will still hold those same notes, with the same conditions. No, you’re looking in the wrong direction.”
“So what’s the right direction, dammit?”
“Frankly,” said Albert, “I simply do not know. But it has to be somebody who desperately wants that silver. The bank can only be of secondary interest. When you come right down to it, banks are a dime a dozen in Switzerland. It’s got to be the silver.”
At that point a secretary walked in with a note in her hand. She hesitated, and then handed it to Doc.
“Well, I’ll be goddamned,” he exclaimed. “Look at that!”
He handed the note to Albert.
“Read it,” Doc said.
So Albert did. “A Mr. Nicholas Topping is waiting outside in the reception room. He would like to talk to someone in the bank about possible mutual interests in Iran.”
The dumbfounded look returned to the prince’s face. Even Albert was nonplussed. Only Marvin, as usual, showed no emotion.
“Well?” asked Doc, his eyes shifting around the conference table.
“No use speculating any further,” said Albert. “He’s the man. And he thinks he’s got everything lined up. So let’s hear it.”
“Bring him in,” Doc told the secretary. “And don’t let anybody else in here until I say so.”
Then to the prince. “You play Chairman of the Board. I want to just sit back and watch this guy for a while.”
“Marvin,” he continued, “get out of here and make sure this guy is photographed front, back, and sideways before he gets out of the building. Then you personally tail him after he leaves. I want to know where he’s staying.”
Marvin had barely closed the door, when it was opened again by the same secretary. Nick Topping was right behind her. No sports clothes this time. Blue serge, white shirt, highly polished shoes. Even a thin leather briefcase. He stopped just beyond the threshhold, waiting for the other side to make the first move.
The prince made it. “Mr. Topping?”
“Yes.” Loud, clear, and tough.
“My name is Gianfranco Pietro Annunzio di Siracusa. I am Chairman of this bank. I have asked two of my colleagues to join me.”
He just waved his hand lazily at the other men sitting around the table, indicating no intention of introducing them personally. Nor did either Doc or Albert rise to do so themselves.
Topping blithely ignored this.
“Why don’t you take a seat, Mr. Topping. Perhaps down there.” He pointed at the far end of the table. Topping did as requested. When seated, the sun from the windows on the opposite side of the conference room shone directly in his eyes. The prince then took his seat, at the other end of the long oak table. Doc and Albert faced each other midway down. Topping looked carefully at each man in turn, glanced into the sun, reached into his breast pocket, and put on his sunglasses.
No one said a word. The prince broke the ice.
“I believe you have suggested we may have some mutuality of interest, Mr. Topping?”
Completely ignoring both the question and the prince, Topping turned toward Doc.
“How do you find Lugano, Mr. Smythe, after so many years in Las Vegas? Excuse me. It’s Doctor Smythe I’m told.”
Doc just stared at him. So Topping turned toward Albert on the other side of the table.
“Mr. Fiore, I believe. I do hope next time you speak to your father, you give him my best regards. We once ran into each other a few years ago. In Miami. We had mutual friends. From Cuba. I’m not sure our interests were necessarily mutual on that occasion. I sincerely hope they are now.”
“O.K., Topping,” said Doc finally, “cut out the fucking around. What do you want?”
“First, I’d appreciate if you could pull those goddamned curtains and get the sun out of my eyes.”
Doc motioned to the prince. The curtains were pulled. Topping took off his sunglasses.
“That’s better. Now who’s in charge here?”
The prince started to say something. Until Doc interrupted: “I am, Topping.”
“And who’s that monkey?” Topping’s head nodded slightly toward the other end of the table—at the prince, who turned darkly red.
“He’s nothing,” replied Doc.
“Right. Where’s Marvin?” continued Topping.
“He went out to arrange for somebody to take your picture,” replied Doc. “But I don’t think that’s going to be necessary.”
“No. And he won’t have to follow me home either. I’m staying at the Metropole, Room 612.”
“How was your flight from Dubai?”
“Comfortable.”
“Where’s your little pal?”
Topping just raised his eyebrows.
“Come
on, Topping. You’re cute, but not that cute. Why didn’t you bring Luckman along?”
Topping smiled.
“Doc, you’re all that they told me you were. I think you and I are going to get along.”
“Don’t plan on it,” replied Doc. Then, “Are you sure your boss knows what he’s taking on?”
“Cut it out, Doc. Fishing with that kind of lousy bait will get you nowhere. You should be ashamed of yourself.”
Doc grinned.
“O.K., Topping. Lay it on the table.”
“Be happy to. Doc, I am acting for principals that desire to make you a very fine offer for this bank. I think, indeed I hope, that you will find it irresistible. Now don’t get me wrong. Nobody is out to screw you. My principals will pay a fair price. Provided this matter can be settled quickly, cleanly, and quietly.”
“Otherwise?”
“Doc, let’s not get our relationship off to a bad start.”
“Spell it out, Topping. Otherwise I’ll kick your ass out of here in ten seconds flat.”
“All right Doc. Otherwise we let the poor, unsuspecting, innocent Swiss know that the Mafia have invaded their holy of holies of banking. We’ve got a file probably ten feet thick on Joe Fiore, you, and all your pals. If that lands in the lap of the Bank Commission in Berne, you’ll be out of business in less than a week. Is that clear enough?”
“Boy, one thing I’ve got to say about you, Topping. You don’t lack nerve. What’s to prevent us from letting you walk through that window and mess up the sidewalks of Lugano?”
“Come on, Doc. Let’s keep this on a gentlemanly level.”
Again Doc grinned. He was enjoying himself, apparently happy to be back in his element.
“Sure, Topping. Say, is it all right if I call you Nick?”
The Silver Bears Page 15
