'Indeed it was,' the stony-faced man said. 'Your mother fought for France. You have much to be proud of.'
Maman! Suddenly Hélène could see her blurry shape standing in front of her. She tried to reach out and touch her, but her arms felt like lead. Then everything came into focus again. It wasn't Maman. . .it was the stony-faced man. And Edmond was speaking with him. She was becoming very confused.
'So you're the so-called kidnapped children,' the man said thoughtfully. 'And you managed to hide all this time?'
Hélène saw Edmond nodding. 'We're going to our aunt's.'
'Where is that?'
'Saint-Nazaire.'
The blurry men exchanged glances. 'That's still a long way off,' one of them said finally.
Then Hélène blacked out. The last thing she remembered was being lifted up by the stony-faced man. He smelled strongly of sweat, and somehow that was comforting. 'Come with us, Little French Girl,' he whispered softly. 'We will see to it that you get safely to Saint-Nazaire.'
TODAY
Wednesday, January 10
1
It was ten-fifteen in the morning when Hélène walked into the conference room and shut the door softly behind her. She wore a champagne Chanel suit and her hair was pulled back in the ubiquitous no-nonsense chignon. Her only piece of jewelry was a large gold brooch pinned to her lapel.
The board members were already seated around the table, waiting. Before she came in she had heard the buzz of their conversations, but now the room had suddenly fallen silent. Smiling tightly, she came around to her place at the head of the table. She remained standing, her fingertips poised on the oiled teak, her violet eyes alert and appraising.
They were all in their usual places. Wearing dark sunglasses, von Eiderfeld nevertheless sat with his chair pushed away from the table, which was flooded with light from the overhead tracks. Next to him was the Comte, who looked up at Hélène, red-faced and mocking. She noticed that his hands were trembling. Beside him, like an elegant black widow, sat Z.Z. She was dressed in a black silk shantung suit, long leather gloves, and a little hat with a veil half-covering her face. She smiled and chain-smoked malevolently, the smoke picked out by the lights like swirling veils. Opposite her, d'Itri was doodling on a piece of paper, a bored expression on his face.
The Sphinx was present to transcribe the meeting. She was in the far corner of the room, legs crossed, steno pad on her lap, pen poised.
The door opened abruptly and Edmond walked in briskly. Wordlessly he crossed the room, pulled up a chair beside Julie, and sat down.
Hélène looked at him. Almost imperceptibly he shook his head from side to side. She looked thoughtful, masking her emotions. He had just returned from a meeting at ManhattanBank. The day after tomorrow, the ten-million-dollar loan was due. He had gone to fight for a desperate last- ditch extension.
The shake of his head told her all she needed to know. There would be no extension. Unless some sort of miracle happened, the bank would seize her collateral—20 percent of HJII stock—and throw it to the vultures. Or perhaps even to some higher bidder she did not know of. Either way, the outcome would be the same. She would lose control over HJII. The others would end up owning 69 percent of the total voting stock and her remaining 31 percent wouldn't amount to a hill of beans. Out of hatred and revenge, they would continue to band against her, this time armed with enough power to topple her. Almost certainly they would elect a new president. It was a grim prospect, but one she had to face. After all, Hubert had gone so far as to spell that out.
The idea of him—or one of the others—sitting in her office, running HJII, was revolting. She felt like a mother must feel when her baby is about to be snatched away from her. After all, HJII was her baby.
But this was no time to show her feelings. She had to be impassive. Composed.
Like an actress about to make an entrance, she took a deep breath. 'Good morning,' she began. Her crystalline voice rang out clearly, impersonally. Without a hint of her inner turmoil. 'The board of directors' meeting is called to order.
'I know that time is a precious commodity for each one of us. Therefore, I strongly suggest we stick to the subjects listed on today's agenda. Let's try not to stray from them as we did the last time. However'—she looked down at Hubert, who was grinning up at her with amusement—'I do want you to know that I have noted the criticisms you voiced over how I run this corporation. I'm afraid I can do little about those complaints that dealt with my personality. But when I have the time, I will review those that directly affect Hajji's publishing policies.
'Now, to the first item on the agenda. In front of each of you is a bound copy of this year's projected plans. If you would be so kind as to open them, we can then discuss the items, one by one.' Hélène sat down, reached for her copy, and opened it to the first page.
They all stared down at their reports, but not one of them made a move to pick them up.
Z.Z. smiled slowly. Then she reached out and pushed hers aside. 'I realize that these plans are most important,' she said craftily. 'However, I feel that I must move that we drop the subjects on today's agenda so that we may discuss something far more important to Hajji's future.'
Hélène folded her hands and looked wearily at Z.Z. This move came as no surprise; she had expected something of this sort to happen. 'Such as?' she asked calmly.
Z.Z.'s smile broadened. She lifted her little black veil and slowly pushed it over the top of her hat. 'Something that concerns each and every one of us.' She paused. 'Leadership.'
'All right,' Hélène said with resignation. 'Say what you have to say.'
Z.Z. rose to her feet. Hélène could detect the excitement flashing in her narrowed green eyes. She knew that look only too well. It would be another day of cat-and-mouse games.
'Last night,' Z.Z. purred, 'the gentlemen sitting around this table and I had a private. . .chitchat, you might call it. We all agreed that for the past few years HJII has been faring quite well. However, separate though it may be from HJII, the disaster produced by that new magazine you insisted on publishing puts everything in a different. . .perspective. We're quite concerned about the fact that you are having personal financial difficulties. Of course, under ordinary circumstances that would be none of our business. However, the fact that you used twenty percent of HJII stock as collateral for a loan you will not possibly be able to repay affects us immensely.'
Hélène stared at Z.Z. numbly. Not be able to repay! Those vultures were disgustingly well-informed. They knew things they had no business knowing. Yesterday's Wall Street Journal article speculated on her inability to pay back the loan; today it was known for certain that she could not. She wondered if someone at the bank had been shooting his mouth off. Gore, perhaps?
'After all,' Z.Z. continued self-righteously, 'what would happen if ManhattanBank sells those shares to someone none of us knows? If some outside stranger would buy them and just walk right in? It could be disastrous, that's what! After all, they'd be owning one-fifth of this corporation.
'So we discussed it, the gentlemen and I. And we've come to an agreement.' Z.Z. stopped and smiled sweetly at Hélène. 'We hereby offer to help you weather the storm. We are willing to buy twenty percent of your HJII shares for eleven million dollars. That's ten million plus the million interest. In that way, you could pay off ManhattanBank, your collateral would be returned, and we wouldn't have to worry about having an outsider sitting on the board. This way we'd all benefit.'
Sure., you'd benefit, Hélène thought. You'd get your claws into the business without my putting up a fight.
'If you were to sell us twenty percent of HJII,' Z.Z. continued, 'we would certainly have to look upon that action as a gesture of goodwill. It would ease our fears of outside. . .invasion. It would also boost our confidence in your leadership ability.' She turned to the others and smiled shrewdly. 'Am I correct, gentlemen?'
'That you are,' Hubert said heartily.
Z.Z. spread her hands apart.
'So you see?' she said sweetly. 'It's as simple as that.' She sank down into her seat.
Hélène cleared her throat and chose her words carefully. 'It seems that 'outside invasion' of HJII weighs heavily on your minds. Let me try to put your fears to rest.
'In my opinion, you would all be best off to wait and see if-—and I stress the word 'if'—the bank does indeed seize my collateral shares. Should that occur, I believe you have nothing to worry about. As I understand it, you would be in a position to bid for them.' She glanced across the room at Edmond. 'Am I correct in assuming that?'
'Yes,' Edmond agreed in an expressionless voice.
'There is your answer,' Hélène said with finality. 'No matter what happens, you'd have your chance to block 'outside invasion' of HJII. And if you did that, you would also be in a position to elect a new president. Then my leadership abilities wouldn't need to concern you.' She looked around. 'I believe that for the time being, at least, this closes the discussion brought up by Mrs. Bavier. Now, as far as this year's projected plans are concerned—'
'Not so fast, my dear,' Hubert chimed in quickly. 'I move that we suspend all the items on today's agenda and adjourn this meeting until Monday morning.' He smiled. 'That way, we'll all be wiser as to the future of HJII. After all, anything we might discuss today could be a waste of time. As you pointed out, we may be in a position to elect a new president on Monday. If we do that, all of Hajji's policies would have to change.'
Hélène forced her face to remain expressionless. His tactic was clear. The loan was due on Friday; the following banking day was Monday. If they had already convinced the bank to sell them the shares—and she wouldn't put that past them—it would not take more than a few minutes for the transaction to take place. Then the buyer could rush back uptown for the meeting and use the shares for a showdown vote. Cutting her out. Throwing her out of HJII. She would be nothing more than a minority shareholder with her hands tied.
As for the board of directors, she wondered which of them actually planned to buy the shares. Von Eiderfeld and Hubert were both filthy rich. Either one could afford it.
Z.Z. and d'Itri were worth quite a lot of money, but they didn't have eleven million dollars to squander. Perhaps they would all chip in; that way, they would get what they wanted and not even notice the dent in their pocketbooks.
Hélène rose to her feet suddenly. 'All right,' she said. 'The meeting is adjourned until Monday morning at ten.' Swiftly she strode out of the conference room. Her eyes had hardened. She knew what she had to do. She would set up her own meeting with Hubert and von Eiderfeld. She couldn't do anything about Z.Z., and d'Itri was a small fry; without Hubert and von Eiderfeld, they'd disband like third-rate criminals. But Hubert and von Eiderfeld. . .Yes, she just might be able to do something about them.
Much as she hated to, she'd use her hold over them for one last time. It shouldn't be too difficult.
After all, it had worked in the past.
An hour later, Hélène had Jimmy bring the Rolls around and she and Edmond rode uptown and had lunch at 21. The restaurant was already crowded when the captain led them to her usual table. On the way, they nodded and greeted many acquaintances.
To anyone who saw her, she never looked more beautiful and relaxed. But Edmond knew better. She was composed, yes. But she was very tense. He thought of the enormous pressures she was under and wished he could do something about them. For the past year she'd been working herself half to death. It seemed that each time she managed to win a round, something else popped up from behind her and knocked her back down. 'How about a drink?' he asked.
She shook her head. 'I could use one, but I think I'll stick to club soda. Today I decided that the best Remedy for a lousy day would be to act like a woman.' She smiled. 'So I'll have my hair done. I called up Susumu's, and they'll squeeze me in after lunch.'
He nodded and ordered soda for her and a martini for himself. When the captain left, Edmond lit a cigarette and leaned over the table. He kept his voice low. 'I know you won't want to hear what I've got to say, but as your lawyer and brother, I think I owe it to you.'
She nodded. 'You're going to try to convince me to go public,' she predicted calmly.
His voice dropped an octave. 'Yes. I know you hate having to do it, but it's the only way you can keep control of HJII. This morning, after the bank turned down the request for an extension, I took the liberty of asking if they'd consider it were you to go public. They will, but only on that condition, because then they'll be virtually guaranteed that you will make a fortune. I must say that the well-fed Mr. Gore was quite beside himself when I brought the subject up. For some reason, he doesn't seem anxious for that to happen.' Edmond frowned. 'I really don't like that man. Never have. There's some¬thing odd about him. Something sneaky.'
'I don't trust him, either.' She looked thoughtful. 'Perhaps Hubert or one of the others got to him.'
Edmond shrugged. 'I wouldn't put it past them.'
She started to say something but fell silent as their drinks arrived. She sipped her soda slowly. 'I talked to von Eiderfeld and Hubert,' she said. 'I'm going to go and see them this evening. I may be able to get them off my back.'
'Yes, but it still won't raise the money,' Edmond pointed out. 'If you can't do that, they'll be able to walk right in and take HJII over. And you can't let that happen. Take my word for it, Hélène. Go public. Otherwise everything you've worked for will go down the drain.'
She nodded soberly. 'How long do I have before I need to come to a decision?'
'Tomorrow afternoon at the latest.'
She looked down at her glass. That wasn't much time. Still. . .Suddenly she looked back up. 'All right,' she said, 'I'll give you my answer at noon tomorrow. I'll seriously consider it.'
'Please do.' He reached across the table abruptly and covered her hand with his, his eyes pleading. 'The way I see it, you stand to make an enormous profit by selling public stock. Forty million dollars. Perhaps more. And, Hélène, you really wouldn't be losing anything. You'd be chairman of the board. You'll still own fifty-one percent of the corporation.'
She sighed wearily. 'Yes, Edmond. We've been through that before. Remember?'
He nodded. 'I remember,' he said.
He did, too. Ever since he had first brought it up, she had been dead set against it. In a way, he could understand her reasoning. But one thing didn't make sense. If she felt so strongly about keeping HJII 'private,' why had she ever let the vultures in?
Don't forget,' he said. 'Things are different now than they were a year ago. Going public's your only chance.'
She shook her head slowly. 'No, it isn't. I have another choice that nobody knows of. Even you.'
He gave her a strange look. 'What on earth are you talking about?'
Her voice was soft. 'Nigel offered to lend me the money.'
Suddenly he sat up straight. This news changed everything. Nigel Somerset, the Duke of Farquharshire, was the third-richest man in England.
'Why didn't you tell me this before?' Edmond asked.
She toyed with her glass. 'Because I don't know if I should accept his help.'
'Why? Because he loves you?'
'No,' she said gently. 'Because I'm in love with him.' She paused and looked Edmond in the eye. 'He's asked me to marry him again.'
'And?'
'I still haven't given him an answer. I told him I'd have to think about it.'
'But why? You said it yourself—you love the man!'
'Because I don't want to get married before the problems at HJII are sorted out. Somehow it wouldn't be. . .right.'
Edmond rolled his eyes. 'Oh, my God! Don't tell me! You don't want him to think you're marrying him because of the money. Is that it?'
She shook her head. 'No. . .because I want to make certain I'm not.'
2
Susumu's Fifth Avenue salon is reputed to be one of the finest beauty parlors in the world. It was here that Hélène had her hair done in a private room on the eig
hth floor. She watched in the mirror as the slim, Japanese hairstylist expertly wrapped her head up in a soft, thick turban. On a stool beside her sat the manicurist, busily working on her nails.
'Could you please excuse me for a moment?' Hélène asked apologetically. 'I would like to go to the powder room.'
'Of course, madame,' Susumu said. 'I believe you know where it is.'
Hélène nodded. The hairstylist helped her solicitously out of her chair and smiled. The manicurist smiled too. They were expensive smiles. Having your hair done at Susumu's cost a fortune, especially if Susumu did it personally.
She crossed the room to the door. The stylist got there first and held it open for her. Just as she was about to step out into the corridor, a woman was being led to one of the other rooms. Hélène waited in the doorway for her to pass.
The woman looked up at Hélène and stopped. 'Why, Miss Junot,' she bubbled. 'It has been ages!'
Hélène looked confused. 'Yes?' she said, wondering who in the world this emaciated, blond, deeply tanned caricature of a woman could be.
'We met last year, remember? I'm Geraldine Gore. My husband handles your accounts at ManhattanBank.'
Hélène smiled. 'Of course. How do you do?'
Geraldine Gore extended her bony hand, and Hélène couldn't help noticing the two bracelets encircling her wrist. Both were identical, except that one was made of canary diamonds while the other was of bloodred rubies. Both were unmistakably from Bulgari. Both were unmistakably expensive.
'Oh, what lovely bracelets,' Hélène admired.
Geraldine held up her wrist and smiled contentedly. 'They are, aren't they? I just picked the ruby bracelet out a few minutes ago. I've been feeling so depressed lately. I told myself that just having my hair done simply won't be enough to make me feel better. It's amazing, isn't it, how shopping for little trinkets always helps one get over a depression.'
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