The Ego Makers

by Donald Everett Axinn

  We sat there stiffly for several seconds. Then I asked quietly, “Is this why you sabotaged me with Federated? You hated me so much you’d do in your own company?”

  “Our company,” Steven said.

  “Okay, but the result’s the same.” I paused. “But Jesus! You wanted to kill me. Not just ruin me. Kill me! Yeah, I got it out of Charles. I thought the problem with the helicopter was one of those freak happenings. But when I lost both engines in Martha’s Vineyard, I got suspicious. I thought somebody… but not my own brother.”

  “I may hate you, Henry, but I had no idea about Charles tampering with your aircraft. Honest!”

  “Okay. That would have been unbelievable. You could have sold me your interests several years ago, Steve. Why did you stay so long with a guy you loathe? It makes no sense. And it makes less sense what you’ve done with Federated. You’re destroying me, but you’re destroying yourself as well. It’s crazy!”

  “No, little brother, I guess it wouldn’t make sense to you,” Steve said contemptuously. “Except for one thing. See, Henry, I’ve finally figured you out. Control. You couldn’t share anything even if your life depended on it. I thought you might change as we got older, but with you ifs a dead end.” He stared at me. “Maybe that why you’ve never been able to make any permanent relationships.”

  That stung. I pushed back my chair. “All right.” I said. “So you’re getting your revenge, stupid as it is. But by taking the company down you’re hurting Dad, too. For God’s sake, retract those things you told Federated. That whole pack of lies.”

  “I have no intention of retracting anything,” he said evenly. “Frankly, I don’t care if it does go down! I’m starting my own business. Software. Nowhere as big a company as TMC. Like TMC was. But I won’t have you to contend with, will I?”

  “C’mon, Steve, we’re brothers. We’ve shared things all our lives, despite everything you just said. Stop hating me. Think of Dad. His vision.” Steve had gotten up as I was talking and headed toward the front door.

  “I finally won one, Henry,” he said. “A big one. I’m going to enjoy watching you go down. I hope you go through just half the hell you’ve put me through all these years!” He slammed the door behind him.

  I stood there, stunned. Then, in a trance, I turned and walked out on the terrace. It wasn’t chilly, but I found myself shivering.

  I sank down on one of the lounge chairs and dropped my head into my hands. It was dark, as dark as the time when Clancy’s parents came to Beaufort to take his body home. They told me they didn’t blame me. His father wept and hugged me. When we separated he’d said, “It’s not your fault. Kevin made the decision for himself.” I wept, too. “I’m sorry,” I said, “I’m so sorry. If only he hadn’t tried it.”

  I rose and stared at the landing lights of the planes landing at LaGuardia. I suppose I did push Steve aside. I had never truly realized how he felt. I wonder what else he’d wrecked.

  Young Henry captivated the whole neighborhood. His smile was spirited, streams of morning sunlight; he loved being the object of attention and before he could talk seemed instinctively to know how to charm his father. Jake tried to pay equal attention to both of his sons; he loved Steven too, but doted on Henry, perhaps because he was with Henry from the start, whereas he’d missed Stevens first two years.

  Henry inherited high cheekbones, heavy eyebrows, long eyelashes, and fair complexion from his father, the pronounced jawline, wavy hair, and dimpled chin from his mother. His blue eyes sparkled like a pristine lake, dancing from object to object. Passersby and family members alike would remark how alert he was, how handsome. Despite increasing evidence to the contrary, his grandfather Sal insisted Henry was the spitting image of Joe. He produced a picture of Joe as a baby to prove it

  Barbara Martin also tried to love her sons equally, but she clearly favored her firstborn, perhaps trying to compensate for Jake’s subtle but undeniable preference. Unfortunately for Steven, his father couldn’t grasp the complexities of parenthood. The special attention and affection that Barbara lavished on Steven seemed illogical to Jake, since Steven was never as cute and appealing as Henry. Steven seemed an introvert, whereas Henry hated nothing more than being alone. During their sons’ formative years, Barbara rarely complained to Jake about any aspect of their family life. She adopted the pattern she observed in the patriarchal Old World home of her parents: the papa supra tutto deference her mother had accorded her father.

  After the war, Jake and Barbara settled into a garden apartment on Tulip Avenue in Floral Park, Long Island. The old Martin-Sabatini Construction Company had been dissolved when Jake and Joe went into the armed forces, so Jake formed the Martin Construction Company with savings and money borrowed from both families. He seemed so intent on becoming successful that Barbara began to worry. Jake worked day and night, as if obsessed. And he was. Whether for himself, his family, the memory of Joe, or because his genes demanded it, he wasn’t sure. But he worked, ceaselessly, seven days a week, fifty-one weeks a year.

  Barbara finally put her foot down. She told Jake that unless he paid more attention to her, to the family, he’d be in big trouble with her. Sal also gave a him a talking to; reluctantly, Jake promoted three of his men and slowed down his mad pace. Much to his surprise, the business didn’t seem to suffer.

  “Listen, honey, “Jake said, taking her in his arms, one Sunday into his new schedule. “It’s not that I want to work seven days a week. But I have to stay on top of every detail. When Joe was here we split the load. Now…” His voice trailed off. “Anyway, you re right, Barb. Today ‘I’m all yours. I'll call Sal and ask him to run by the new job before we come over. Okay? We’ll have a picnic at that park in Roslyn.”

  Screaming came from the next room. “Boys!” Barbara admonished. “Please play nicely. “ Both parents headed into the living room, where Steven was glaring at Henry, who was trying to hold back tears.

  “He broke my, my truck, “ Henry blurted. “And then he hit me!”

  “He wouldn’t move it out of the way!” Steven retorted. “Anyway, he pushed my truck out of the way first!”

  Jake picked up Henry, now six years old. “Boys, I want you to play together. Like brothers should. Now hug and make up. “ Tentatively, they both stuck out a hand and, not very convincingly, touched each other.

  Barbara stroked Steven s face. “Honey, you re the older brother. You must help teach him to do things the right way. “

  “But he never listens to me!”

  “He will,” she said. “He will.” She stood up. “Daddy isn't working today, and in a little while we’re all going to that pretty park in Roslyn for a picnic. You remember, the ducks and geese.”

  “Yay!” they both cried, suddenly united. “The ducks and the geese!”

  “Then later we’ll go over to Grandma Angela’s,” Jake chimed in. “Grandpa always has great toys for both of you. “

  “Cal,” I said into the phone, “Steve was just here. He admitted lying to Federated. Must have sent them an anonymous letter. No, he didn’t actually say it, but it’s clear he did. We had a helluva row. He quit.” Cal didn’t respond. “The question is, what else did he do?”

  “Meet me in thirty minutes, on the front steps of the Metropolitan Museum,” Cal said.

  “Why there?”

  “I don’t want to talk in the office. We’ll walk in the park.” I detected a slight waver in his voice.

  “Driver, let me out on the next corner.” I needed to breathe some fresh air. I crossed Park Avenue, heading west to Fifth. Then I turned south for the ten or so blocks to the Met. I waited for the light to change on Madison. As I stepped onto the street a delivery bike slammed into me. I went down, but instinctively rolled as I hit the street, which helped break the fall. Fortunately he had been moving slowly.

  “Dumb jerk!’’1 yelled, picking myself up. “Don’t you watch the lights?’’ He was a kid and frightened, fearing retribution from this well-dressed, probably well-
heeled man standing in his face. I should have been looking. Bikes are a major menace in New York. Too absorbed in my thoughts. “All right, all right,’1 growled. “Just don’t go through red lights.” I brushed myself off, checking to make sure all the pieces were intact.

  Cal walked down the long steps of the Met and met me on the wide sidewalk in front of the huge Beaux Arts structure that spanned the four blocks between Eightieth and Eighty-fourth Streets. It was one of those summer days when the weather is balmy and moist. We walked without saying anything until we reached an area where there were a few benches and some open grass. Joggers were running along the path next to Central Park’s East Drive.

  “Let’s sit here, Henry,” Cal began. “Here’s the deal. You and Steve will have to waive your right to retain separate counsel.” He gave a deep sigh, then, “Steve came to my office yesterday. He agreed to release me from my confidentiality limitation and signed away his ownership in return for you waiving any claim you have against him. Although he’s done everything he could to ruin you, it’s my feeling there’s a part of him that is not happy about it.”

  I stood up and looked straight ahead at a pair of runners, a couple with identical sweat suits. “How bad is it, Cal?”

  “I’m not making any judgments. What Steve’s done is a classic case of revenge. He spewed stuff about the two of you since you were kids.”

  “That isn’t any of your business,” I exclaimed. I looked at him. “I’m sorry, Cal. I mean, that you have to know such private things.”

  “Anyway, Henry, you have a choice. Steve’s wiling to give up all of his stock — no, you’re a partnership — all of his interests — providing you give him a general release from any and all claims, suits, whatever.”

  “I’d like to sue the shit out of him,” I said. “Cal, I don’t think I told you that Charles tried to sabotage my planes. Both the copter and the twin. Fm satisfied Steve wasn’t aware of it. Charles was going to try to get more money out of him. But if my parents knew about all these details, it would devastate them even more.” I paused. “At least get Steve to talk to Federated.”

  Cal shook his head. “I asked him. He won’t.”

  “He’s made his point, Cal. Fm on the brink.” I had visions of forcing Steve to confess to Federated. Maybe knocking him around until he did.

  “You’re not forgetting why he’s done this, are you?” Cal said. “There’s more, Henry. I think you’re going to find that Steve’s gotten to some of the brokers, many of your tenants, and even some prospects. He didn’t go into chapter and verse with me. But I had the impression he told them that you got the company in big financial trouble.”

  Good God, I thought, how do I undo this? Where do I even start?

  We walked back toward the Met and stood on Fifth Avenue waiting for a taxi. “Look, Cal,” I said, “I'll call MacDougall and you call Cunningham. Make Federated understand what Steve did.”

  “It’s not going to make any difference,” he said. “You still face a foreclosure proceeding unless you obtain financing to take them out. Or an acceptable tenant.” A cab pulled up next to the curb. He opened the door. “And we’ve tried that, haven’t we?” I nodded. “Call me later,” Cal said. “Let me know if you want me to draw up the papers for you and Steve.”

  I took a cab home and picked up my red BMW convertible, then drove up the East River Drive toward the Triborough Bridge, trying to sort out the various elements in my mind. Now Steve, my partner, was the enemy, and he’d made Federated Bank an even bigger one. What were my choices? First, damage control.

  I picked up my cellular phone and called the office. After Dianne gave me my messages, I asked for Ari.

  “Fm on my way in,” I said. “A whole new ball game. I'll clue you in when I get there. Pull the roster of tenants. And, do you know where Steve keeps his files on prospects? And the one for the brokers?”

  “I think so,” Ari said. “I don’t have a key to his file … actually, I do. Anything else? You don’t sound too hot.”

  “I’ve been better. Switch me over to Dianne.” I waited. “Dianne, ask Ken Grubin to meet me about twelve, twelve-thirty. Get some sandwiches, all right? Tell Ari I want him to join us.”

  I walked into Ari’s office. He stood up as I closed the door. “My brother, blessed be his ass, has sabotaged us. We've got to find out how badly.” I looked out my window. “Steve is out of here. Left lots of wreckage in his wake. He more or less admitted to Cal and me that he lied to Federated.”

  “Good God, Henry! I mean, Steve is your brother?

  “Incredible, isn’t it? But now the question is, how badly are we hurt?”

  “You’re not going to like this, Henry,” Ari said. “He’s cleaned out all his files.”

  “I should have suspected him.” I walked over to the window. A woman with her two young children were entering the party store across Franklin Avenue. ‘Well, see what you can reconstruct with his secretary.”

  “She called in sick. The word is they don’t think she’s coming back,” Ari said, a hangdog expression on his face.

  “Why the hell didn’t someone tell me? Or you?” I shouted. “Look, get hold of her. I don’t care if you have to go to her house. Offer her a nice bonus. We’ve got to get information, okay?”

  “HI try, Henry. But don’t be surprised if I don’t get anywhere. Are we meeting with Ken?”

  ‘Yeah. I’ll visit Hollick. Call or see the other brokers.” I walked him to my door. “I’m counting on you. You’re going to be one busy guy. When we get a handle on things, there’ll be an increase for you. A big one.” I wondered if he believed me, given the situation. “Monday at noon I’m calling a company meeting. What I'll tell people is what I’m saying to you now — that The Martin Companies are still viable. Still powerful. And that no one is going to take us down.”

  Dianne caught my eye and said my father was on the phone. I wondered what my dear brother might have told him.

  “Good morning, Dad,” I said. “How’s it going in the land of perpetual sunshine?”

  There was a long silence. “I’m devastated by Steve’s phone call, Henry. I can’t believe you two have split up. I gather the company is in deep trouble. Steve didn’t go into details. I tell you, Henry, nothing could be worse news than this. Bad blood between my two sons. I asked Steve several times what caused it, but he wouldn’t say. He said it would have happened eventually anyway….”

  “Dad, I’m as shocked as you are. I had no idea he harbored that kind of resentment. Steve is gone. Quit. There’s no way I could change that.” I knew how this was hurting my father and decided not to say anything about what was done to my aircraft. I tried to soften the blow. “Dad, maybe it’s for the better. He’s always detested me. It’s partly my fault. I didn’t defer to him enough. Now hell be free to do something on his own. Dad, please don’t feel bad. Just two brothers cut from very different cloth.”

  “I haven’t told your mother. She’s going to take it very hard.”

  “She'll blame me. Want me to talk to her?” I asked.

  “No. I'll find the right time. Look, I can come to New York and help you. Get a plane out of here tomorrow. I used to be a damned good negotiator. You know that.”

  “Thanks, but it would take too long for you to catch up on all the details. I’ll keep you informed. Your opinions will be very helpful.” I hesitated, then added, “Dad, we’ll get through this. The company’s strong, and you’ve got a son who won’t let the bastards get to us.”

  “Yes, Henry, I know that. But it breaks my heart about you and Steven.”

  I didn’t know how to make him feel better. We chatted for a few more minutes, then he said good-bye. I thought I heard his voice break.

  My father couldn’t help me, but Jack Phelan could. I called his home number, and his wife, Margaret, answered.

  “Hello, Henry. Yes, he’s here, but he’s a little busy right now. Can he call you back shortly?”

  I called Hollick, but his sec
retary said he was out at a closing. You never knew if it was the truth or not. To be fair, Dianne often did the same when I didn’t want to speak to someone.

  I tried a few potential tenants and tried to reassure those I spoke to that we were as strong as ever. Then Cal called.

  “Federated is intransigent,’ he said. “We could delay them on foreclosure. But — and they weren’t specific — I think they may want to go for some other kind of action. In any case, none of this is going to help your reputation. Your other bankers, and God knows who else, will take a different look at their relationships with you.”

  “That’s a nice way of saying I’m a dead man.”

  Cal hesitated, “As long as we’re facing facts, you can assume Steve has gotten to almost everyone.”

  “But they all know Steve’s my partner,” I countered. “It shouldn’t take a genius to understand how jealous he was of me.”

  “Henry,” Cal said, “Steve has told them he’s left the company because you’ve done all these terrible things. Convincing, if they want to believe the worst.”

  “So, there’s a majority out there who would like to see me strung up and baked slowly over the coals. All right, counselor, what do we do next?”

  “I can’t tell until you give me a full damage report. Review your exact status, and well take it from there…. I have to take an overseas call. Talk to you later.”

  When we hung up, Dianne gave me several messages. One of them was from Old Stone, a bank in Providence we did some business with. I told her to hold my calls.

  I went into my bathroom, let the water run until it was cold, and stuck my head under the faucet. I stood looking at myself in the mirror. There’s strength in that face, I said to myself. They are not going to take you down. They haven’t before, and they won’t now.

  I walked into the outer office and heard Dianne talking to Jack Phelan. She covered the speaker end of her phone and whispered his name. I nodded to her that I would take it in my office.