Almost before they had separated from their welcome hug and kisses, Cecelia began talking. “Oh, Mike, you wouldn’t believe it! During our meeting with Chairman Wang, the full impact of what we’re trying to do finally occurred to me. Not to belittle the importance of selling the oil bonds, but how would you feel if suddenly you realized you were being asked to help preserve a significant portion of the capital of an entire country? As much as I would like to believe our bonds produce a good financial outcome, their use as a substitute capital source serves a far greater purpose. Once China’s gold has been converted into our bonds, the Chinese government can transport its national treasury out of harm’s way, make it interest-bearing, and create the liquidity needed to preserve its current banking obligations.”
In her excitement, she failed to realize that she hadn’t given him an opportunity to respond. “Do you realize,” she continued hurriedly, “that your father and Pete Ferrari have committed their banks’ balance sheets to cover the option position for the Chinese people? Half a billion dollars is one hell of a commitment for two banks to be making. And that is on top of one and a half billion dollars that will be presented by letters of credit issued by the three Hong Kong banks. The Chinese commitment could be as high as two billion dollars—and that’s before we hear anything from Indonesia.”
“That’s incredible, Cecelia!” said Mike. “Do you realize you have exceeded your quota by a least a billion dollars? I wish I could say the same thing about the American contribution. Without some drastic change, it won’t be more than three billion dollars, or less than half of our original quota. I know Jacques, Claudine, and Juan Pablo are trying their very best to make up for the shortfall, but the gap is so large, I don’t see how they can make up the difference.”
Mike was sitting alone in their apartment; Cecelia had left for her office at the bank. It was one of those raw, foggy days in San Francisco when the cold seemed to permeate even the most tightly sealed rooms. He had talked with Jacques. Four billion dollars short—where are we going to find that kind of money?
The ringing phone startled him. Answering it, he was surprised to hear the voice of his father. “Mike, have you heard from Pete in the last twenty-four hours? Both of us have been receiving some very curious calls from our old friends who run the big money-center banks—the same ones who have been making your life so difficult. Apparently, they’ve heard about Cecelia and David’s success. They may also know about the progress Jacques and Claudine are making in Europe, although they don’t know about your commitments from the community banks. Somebody must be getting nervous. I’m not sure I understand their logic, but it appears I never have.
“Here’s a list of the people who’ve called me, and I’m sure Pete has another list. It might be a good idea if you called them. Good luck, son, and keep me posted.”
When Mike started returning the calls, he found the tone of the conversations had changed. Gone was any mention about the approval of the loan committees, a review of the documents, and so forth.
Instead, he was hearing, “Mike, the bank has reassessed its position and we are wondering if there is still room for us to revise our offer.”
Mike knew the question could be a trick designed to provide the calling bank with the information it would need to more accurately assess his position. If these banks became suspicious of the actual amounts of money they had in commitments, they could be in real trouble. Mike knew he had to be very careful and precise as he answered their questions.
“We have a half-billion-dollar, unfunded commitment from the National Chinese government,” he told each of them. “It is contingent on their ability to transport their funds out of China to Hong Kong. If you like, I’m certain the Fed would be willing to accept backup offers, providing they don’t collectively exceed five hundred million dollars and you are willing to produce the required unconditional letters of credit. For them to count, they have to be presented before the close of business on Friday, December seventh, 1946, to Treasury Secretary Ainsworth.”
That Friday was their deadline for presenting their funding.
After explaining the calls to Cecelia, she asked, “Mike, I don’t understand your logic. Why can’t you accept multiple offers from different banks? Why limit yourself to half a billion dollars? We need all the support we can generate.”
“If I indicated I was prepared to accept more than five hundred million, in conversation between themselves they might conclude our need is far greater. That’s a risk I don’t think we should be taking.”
With the scheduled showdown meeting between the Sentinels and the Oil Club banks only five days away, Cecelia and Mike were on the St. Louis-to-New York leg of their trip, enjoying a glass of white wine and a light lunch, when Mike turned toward Cecelia and said, “There’s something we need to discuss.”
Instantly alarmed, she said, “This isn’t going to be one of those relationship talks, is it?”
Laughing, he said, “No, this is just career talk. You know that Jacques and Claudine have committed themselves to moving back to Europe. Father is suggesting that I return to New York and resume my career at the bank as an executive vice president. Apparently, he wants me to start preparing to assume the presidency within the next five years. He also thinks it’s very important for me to continue cementing my relationships with all the regional and community bankers I’ve been meeting lately.
“Naturally, if I accept this position, I will be expected to move to New York. Since I’m not going without you, the question then becomes, would you consider moving to New York?”
“Congratulations, Mike!” said Cecelia. “I know you secretly wanted to be asked to succeed your father. Do you think he’s really serious about starting the process of stepping down? You would be the fourth Stone to serve as president of Stone City Bank. How does it feel?”
“That’s an interesting question,” said Mike. “As much as I have been hoping this would happen, now that is has I’m not really certain how I feel. Naturally, any decision I make depends upon what you want to do.”
“Knowing the opportunities Morgan’s invitation could create for you,” said Cecelia, “I’m impressed that your first thoughts were of me. I didn’t know I had you so well trained!”
“Cecelia, you know the only way I would consider accepting his offer is if you were willing to move to New York.”
“Interestingly enough, it just so happens I’ve been thinking about my own career since my return from Hong Kong. Pete Ferrari has talked to me about what needs to be done to preserve all the new relationships I’ve developed in China. Partly for health reasons and partly because I think Ted can do a better job servicing those new accounts from Hong Kong, I have recommended they find a way to merge the Asian operations of the two banks. Naturally, I’ve offered to remain involved on a consulting basis until all the problems are ironed out, but my active role should be coming to an end.”
“Don’t you want to do something else at the bank, though?” asked Mike. “Your work there has represented a big part of your life for a long time. Are you certain you are ready to end it?”
“It’s almost ten years since I first joined the bank, Mike. That’s a long time and I have had the opportunity to do a lot of interesting things. Maybe there is something else I would prefer to do. The time has come for me to head in a new direction, find something that will leave a more permanent mark on the world.
“Mr. Stone, don’t think you can use that old excuse of moving to New York to drop me! Wherever you go, I go. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”
Chapter 51
A PROPOSITION
The series of long flights, flying against the sun, made travel from New Zealand to America seem even longer. The sun came up earlier and set later. It was confusing; the only thing that was predictable was the constant serving of cocktails and meals.
It was late afternoon of the third day when they reached their hotel atop Nob Hill. The San Francisco Bay fog was beginn
ing to roll in. Watching Natalie hang up her dresses, David said, “Why don’t we take a nap? I’ll set the clock for nine and then we can order room service. Then, there is a special jazz joint I want to show you. Do I have a treat for you! There is a musician—he’s an institution around here—who plays banjo and writes and sings his songs. His name is Clancy Hayes, he’s a friend of mine, and he plays at the Tin Angel down on the Embarcadero. I can’t wait for you to see him sitting on top of an old bar stool, singing his songs and plunking his banjo. If we’re lucky, maybe I’ll be able to introduce you.”
It was 12:30 a.m. when they entered the dimly lit, smoke-filled bar. The crowd from the early show had left, and a bigger crowd for the late show filled every table. Forced to stand near the entrance, David was trying to get the attention of the headwaiter when Clancy recognized them. Bending over, he asked a passing waiter to set up a table for his guests, right down in front of the small stage.
They had been seated for only a moment when Clancy motioned for Natalie to join him onstage. It was as if they had been performing together for years. David couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Watching Natalie, he saw a woman totally abandoning the cares in life. But how the hell does she know Clancy? he thought.
When they finished the first song, she turned toward the banjo player and asked, “Can we do another? How about ‘Long Gone from Bowling Green’?” Then came “A Huggin’ and a Chalkin.’” And they finished with the locals’ favorite, “Spin a Silver Dollar.”
The audience, sensing they were witnessing something special, stood, clapped, and whistled their approval after each song.
Natalie was engrossed in what she was doing. It wasn’t until they had performed their fourth song that she glanced at David. She noticed the pained look on his face at just about the same time that she saw the three empty glasses on the table. Something must be wrong. I’ve never seen David have more than one or two drinks …
Finishing the song, she bowed to the crowd, thanked Clancy, and excused herself.
Clearly upset, David had left money on the table and was standing, holding her coat. It was obvious he was ready to leave.
Sitting in silence in the back of the cab, Natalie was confused by what had happened. Finally, in a strangely tight voice, David said, “Natalie, not that I am ever totally surprised by anything you do, but would you mind telling me how you and Clancy know each other?”
“David, if I didn’t know better I would think you’re jealous! All you saw was a couple of old friends having fun. It’s no secret: two or three years ago, when we were touring my last play in Chicago, before our New York opening, I found myself in the bar one night where Clancy was singing and playing. Chicago’s Tin Pan Alley is like Soho in London; there is great jazz and the bars close late. I liked his music so much that I returned for the next three nights. I introduced myself, and here we are.”
“But that’s not what upset me. Watching you up on the stage gave me the impression that you had left me and were returning to your former way of life. I know it sounds silly but I have become so dependent upon your company and support, the fear of losing you is more than I can stand.”
“My dearest David, you haven’t lost me. One night of a little fun certainly doesn’t mean I’m returning to the stage. Just remember, you can take the girl away from the theater, but you can’t take the music out of the girl!”
The next morning, knowing that there were no more flights, meetings, or information to prepare, David and Natalie slept late. It was eleven o’clock when they left the Fairmont Hotel, boarded a cable car, and headed toward Fisherman’s Wharf. The ride down Hyde Street helped clear David’s head, but his new image of Natalie was there to stay. She is so special; I wonder if there’s any way I can make her a permanent part of my life …
He was still thinking about her as they climbed down off the cable car, crossed the street, and entered the Buena Vista Café.
The maître d’ recognized Natalie immediately. “Good morning, Miss Cummins, it’s so nice to see you again. If you don’t mind waiting for a few minutes, I can give you your old table in front of the picture window.”
“May I assume that your play also came to San Francisco?” David asked.
Sensing the explosive potential of the situation, Natalie chose not to answer. A faint smile was to be her only response.
Returning from the ladies’ room a few minutes later, Natalie found David at the table, seemingly lost in thought. He’s apparently forgotten his habit of standing up and holding out my chair when I return to the table. Something is definitely wrong!
Two Ramos gin fizzes had already been placed on the table. Sitting down and picking up her glass, Natalie said, “Okay, David. Tell me what’s going on.”
Shifting in his chair so he could look directly into her eyes, he said, “Natalie, this last month we’ve spent together has meant more to me than you can possibly imagine. Until recently, it’s been all about you helping me. Watching you perform with Clancy last night made me realize, in a different way, how much I’ve enjoyed your support. If I didn’t love you so much, it might not be so important for me to me tell you how I feel.”
Caught totally off guard by what David had just said to her, all Natalie could do was look into his clear blue eyes and search for the true meaning behind them. There was no doubt he was being serious.
“For the last few months, I’ve watched a very intelligent woman apply her considerable skills to an entirely new field and earn the respect of some of the finest minds in the industry. I’ve seen you rise to the pinnacle of success in the theatrical world. I’ve seen how you can captivate a musical audience. And, now I’ve seen how you can apply those same skills to help support me and capture the attention and respect of a totally different group of people.
“You once told me that I failed to see beyond the surface of a celebrated actress. I hate to admit it, but you were absolutely correct. I hope you believe me when I say that’s a mistake that I will never make again. We’ve known each other for years, we’ve been friends, and now I hope we can be lovers, but as if I am truly seeing you for the first time.”
“David, I sure hope you mean everything you just said,” said Natalie, searching his face. “You have no way of knowing how important those words are to me. If I didn’t care for you so much, I doubt that I would have ever learned how important it was to me to be regarded and cared for as a human being, as a friend—not just as a sexy musical actress.
“After we broke up, I knew I was still in love with you. That’s probably the real reason why I was so anxious to change my life. If it meant learning something about the energy business, then that’s what I needed to do. You have no idea how much it meant to me to be able to discuss your work with you and your friends. After a while, I was beginning to feel that all my research and hard work was making your projects my projects, and your friends my friends.”
David said, “But there’s something even deeper. I’ve seen you when you’re bearing down on a new script or a new song—you were no longer willing to merely learn the scripts, the music, and the dance routines. Whether it’s learning a new play or learning the energy business, that’s the girl I have learned to love and want to be with.”
“David, what does all this mean, what are you trying to say?”
They had been so engrossed in each other that they had lost track of the time. They were surprised when the waiter asked, “May I bring you another drink, and have you had a chance to look at the menu?”
“Hell, it’s almost time for lunch!” said Natalie. “Would you mind bringing the new non-actress a cheeseburger and a beer, please?”
“And for you, sir?”
“I’ll have the same, thank you.”
“Natalie,” said David after the waiter had left, “ever since you walked into Claridge’s that night, my life has changed. You’ve become my best friend, and I treasure sharing my work with you. But watching you last night, I realized that you are truly an indepe
ndent spirit. As much as I might be tempted, I understand that I can’t box you up in my life. Just the opposite! I realize that I must learn to become as supportive of you and your interests as you have been of me and mine.”
Smiling, she said, “David, you are a rich and powerful man. How can you give all that up? Not only would I never ask you to do such a thing, but I would always be worried about you growing restless and wanting to return to your world.”
“There may be some options we haven’t considered,” said David. “First of all, my life in London, as I have known it, is probably over. I can’t oppose the entire British Oil establishment and expect to be treated as if nothing had happened. In certain circles, I’m already regarded as persona non grata. The time has come for me to sell my company and move on.”
“What would you do?”
“The one thing that I don’t want to give up is working with Mike and Juan Pablo in the Middle East. It’s important to me that I have the opportunity to keep working on what we’ve started. It’s the same way I feel about our work in Great Britain and the Commonwealth countries. It seems to me that I need to find some new kind of work that allows me the time to continue my other work.”
Noticing her look of alarm, he said, “Don’t worry. Several universities have expressed interest in my recent experiences in the Middle East and my investment experience in the oil industry. I’ve been offered a teaching fellowship at the University of California at Berkeley, right across the Bay. I understand there is a very fine school of music there. How would you feel about the idea of teaching music and living with dear old Professor Marcus?”
Totally unprepared for the question, her mind raced. Natalie, you’d better think before responding. What David has just said requires your full attention. Is what happened last night, when he wasn’t the center of my attention, a preview of what’s to come? What is all this business about what I want to do and what I don’t want to give up? What about my interests? Am I supposed to become a music teacher so that he can keep me all to himself? What happens if I should develop new interests of my own?
Crude Deception Page 24
