by Lewis Orde
‘Thank you, but I think I’ll go for a walk first.’
‘It was a pleasure to meet you again.’
‘I believe you really mean that.’
‘I do. Should you need anything at all while you’re in London, please contact me.’ He shook his hand and watched him walk slowly toward the door where Franz, Katherine and Heinrich Kassler stood. He saw a white envelope passed as Menendez kissed his granddaughter before he left.
‘He didn’t have to give me this,’ Katherine said, showing Roland the white envelope as he joined her. ‘His coming was enough of a gift.’
‘Open it.’
‘Oh, I feel so mercenary doing this.’ Nonetheless, Katherine slit the envelope with her fingernail, pulled out a blue check. Roland guessed the amount would be large as Menendez attempted to make up for the twenty years during which he’d ignored his only grandchild.
Katherine’s eyes shot wide open and she gave a most unladylike whistle of surprise.
‘How much?’ Roland asked, pleased that he’d been correct. ‘Fifty thousand pounds?’
‘One . . .’ Katherine gulped and looked again at the check as if she couldn’t believe what was written there. ‘One million dollars.’
‘What?’ Amazed, Roland looked for himself. He had seen larger checks, signed them, received them for business deals. But the sight of seven figures – the single one followed by six zeroes – on a check that was a wedding gift was too much for any of them to comprehend.
‘Franz and I can’t possibly accept this,’ Katherine said.
Roland glanced at Kassler; the German was also stunned by Menendez’s generosity. ‘You most certainly can accept it,’ he told his daughter firmly. ‘Menendez is trying desperately to clear his conscience, so have the goodness to allow him to do so the only way he can see fit.’
Katherine understood the wisdom of her father’s advice. She folded the check and passed it to Franz, who placed it in his pocket. ‘Thank you for the most wonderful day of my life,’ she told her father again.
‘You’re more than welcome.’ Roland kissed her, shook hands with Franz. ‘You’ll call me at the office before you leave tomorrow?’
‘Of course, and we’ll write to you twice every day.’ She threw her arms around Roland’s neck and kissed him. ‘Will you please stop worrying about me? Your little girl’s all grown up now.’
‘I know. It makes me worry all the more.’ He stepped back to allow Heinrich Kassler to say farewell to the bridal couple. The German kissed Katherine, then faced his son. For a moment, Roland thought a handshake was going to suffice between the two men until he saw each man reach out to hug the other; whatever Franz had said to his father while Katherine had danced with Menendez had removed a wall of reserve.
‘Do we just go home to bed now?’ Kassler asked Roland when they stood alone at last.
‘Do you want to go out? To a casino?’ Although he’d kept his membership current, Roland hadn’t been to Kendall’s in ages, as if the club reminded him of Christopher Mellish . . . wherever he was now . . . The riffle of cards, the sound of dice, the spin of the wheel might make a pleasant change.
‘Why not?’
They walked the short distance to Kendall’s, conspicuous in their tuxedoes as they enjoyed the cool night air. Roland offered Kassler a cigar, which he refused, then lit one for himself, chewing the end happily. If he won at Kendall’s, it would be the perfect ending to a perfect day.
‘Enjoy the party?’ Roland asked. ‘You seemed to do an awful lot of sitting by yourself.’
‘I was thinking. Weren’t you doing the same – reminiscing?’
‘Of course. What were you and Franz talking about near the end while the band played the last waltz?’
‘Franz was telling me about Katherine’s grandfather suddenly appearing, how you two had made amends. And then . . .’ Kassler paused for an instant, as though he still couldn’t believe what he’d heard. ‘Then he told me he loved me . . . he just said it, out of the blue. It’s a strange sensation, Roland, to hear one’s son say that for the first time in twenty-four years.’
‘Maybe he never had the opportunity to say it before.’
‘True,’ Kassler answered. ‘Or has it something to do with him now being part of a family where love is more important than success?’
‘It took me a long time to learn that lesson, Heinrich. Don’t be too hard on yourself.’
Kassler walked on in silence for a while. ‘That was quite a sentimental moment when Katherine’s grandfather put in an appearance, coming all the way from Argentina. How long was it since he’d last seen her?’
‘Twenty years. We fell out when I married Katherine’s mother. He only saw Katherine when she was a baby.’
‘Why was there a split?’
Why indeed? Roland asked himself. It all seemed so trivial now, so damned stupid. Lives wasted because of misplaced pride. ‘I wasn’t good enough to marry his daughter, that’s what he thought at the time. Fortunately, his daughter didn’t see it in quite the same light.’
Kassler’s face expressed surprise. ‘What did he have against you?’
‘He thought I was after his money. I guess I don’t need to go into how wrong he was about that. He also had his family name to think about, told me it wasn’t his family’s custom to marry Jews.’
‘You?’ As they turned into Mount Street, Kassler stopped and stared at Roland.
‘My father.’
In that moment, Kassler seemed aloof to Roland, a plane removed. Then the German burst into a roar of laughter. ‘Now I understand!’
‘Understand what?’
‘Why you were so furious when we first met.’
‘I don’t follow you.’ Roland didn’t know what to make of the German, the abrupt switches in emotion – the aloofness, the laughter, and now this claim to understand. Understand what, for God’s sake?
‘All this time I thought it was your British sense of justice, the British loathing at what the dirty Huns had done. I thought that was why you reacted the way you did that day, came so close to killing me. It wasn’t that at all, Roland. It was your righteousness, your Jewish lust for vengeance, that same vengeance that sent hundreds to the gallows at Nüremberg. That man who still works for you – Goldstein. Him I could always understand; even now, twenty-five years later, he still hates Germans. But I never really understood the reason for your fury – until now. Why did you hide it all this time?’
‘I never hid it. I never promoted it either.’
‘Is your father still alive? No, he couldn’t be, otherwise he would’ve been at Claridge’s tonight.’
‘Both my parents are dead; my younger sister and brother too. They died two days before I joined the army in 1940. An air raid.’
‘A German air raid,’ Kassler said understandingly. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘That was the other reason I went mad that day,’ Roland explained as they entered Kendall’s. ‘When you were captured wearing that corporal’s uniform – and we knew you were a member of the SS – you picked the worst British officer in the world to be interrogated by.’
‘I see. And, ironically, he turned out to be the fairest.’ Kassler watched Roland sign him into the guest book. ‘It was a strange time. The men of the Schutzstaffel, even down to the lowliest cooks and mechanics, were either being shot out of hand or placed into special detention centers because they were all branded murderers. That was why I wore that corporal’s uniform.’
‘Where did you get that uniform? I never did ask you.’
‘From a dead soldier. At the time I wasn’t too fussy about removing clothes from a corpse. My life was worth more than any distaste I might have felt.’
‘I’ll bet it was.’ Roland followed Kassler to a blackjack table, watched him begin playing. The German used the same system he’d followed in Monte Carlo, remembering the high cards, narrowing the odds in his own favor as the four decks the dealer used became smaller. No hint of enjoyment whatsoever sh
owed on Kassler’s face as the pile of chips in front of him steadily grew, but Roland knew he was delighting in his success. He was winning, and that was still the most important thing of all to Kassler.
After a few minutes Roland walked away and began to play roulette. He studied the people playing their systems while he stuck with red, doubling up until he reached the house limit. For ten minutes he broke even, then a run of seven blacks left him losing five hundred pounds. Deciding to cut his losses, he returned to the blackjack table where Kassler had won about the same amount.
‘Can we talk?’ Roland asked.
‘Certainly. Just allow me to play this hand.’ Sitting in the last spot before the dealer, Kassler eyed his open card, a nine against the dealer’s six. The German drew a seven. ‘Give me another,’ he told the dealer, and the three players before him who had already stood – one with eighteen, two with nineteen – muttered angrily. The dealer flipped over a five to give Kassler twenty-one. Roland knew it wasn’t blind luck. The deck was close to the bottom and Kassler had merely been following the cards; he knew there were plenty of low cards left. Roland watched the dealer turn himself another six and an eight – twenty. Kassler, using the house limit of five hundred pounds, was the only winner. He collected his chips, returned the scowls of the other players with a courteous if cold smile, and left the table.
‘You didn’t make any friends just then, Heinrich. If you hadn’t drawn that final card the dealer would have been forced to stand on seventeen and they would have all won.’
‘But I, with sixteen, would have lost. That’s not the way the game is played, Roland.’ Kassler took the chips to the cashier’s cage, pocketing the wad of money he received in exchange. ‘What do you wish to talk about?’
Roland led the way to two plush armchairs placed in a corner of the club, well away from any noise – or any inquisitive ears. ‘We formed a union today, Heinrich. Franz and Katherine. How about discussing a second one?’
‘Kassler Industries and the Eagles Group?’
Roland nodded. ‘The idea’s been popping in and out of my mind ever since that night I sat Katherine and Franz down in my dining room and told them I expected them to get married.’
‘I must admit that it’s also crossed my mind.’
‘I know – the very moment we bumped into each other in Monte Carlo. When you realized the girl your son was ogling was my daughter, the possibility of a merger was the first thing you thought about.’ He laid a hand fondly on Kassler’s arm. ‘I’m not criticizing your sense of priorities, Heinrich. In this instance, you had far more foresight than I did.’
‘Is it because of the wedding that you’re broaching the subject now or is there another reason?’
Roland gave Kassler a thin smile. ‘You read me as well as you read a deck of cards. How familiar are you with the Ganz operation in the States?’
Kassler glanced up at the ceiling while he ran the name through his mind. ‘A supermarket chain headquartered in White Plains, New York. Approximately four hundred and fifty branches located throughout New England, the East Coast and part of the South . . . also a chain of some sixty discount stores launched six years ago . . .’ The facts flew from the German’s mouth like a computer printout. ‘The company began shortly before the first war as a chain of small grocery shops, switching to the supermarket concept in the 1930s. A year ago it was taken over—’
‘Enough!’ Roland said, laughing and raising his hand for Kassler to stop. ‘You’ve already touched on what I wanted to discuss, the discount store operation.’
‘BarGanz?’ Kassler shook his head, grimacing as he mentioned the name of the supermarket chain’s discount store operation. ‘A terrible pun, BarGanz.’
‘I know. It goes in the garbage can the moment we get control of it.’
‘You . . .? The Eagles Group acquiring BarGanz?’
‘One of the consequences of the company being taken over was to see who was interested in buying BarGanz – using the assets to pay in part for the acquisition of Ganz itself. Michael Adler has been over to White Plains to discuss a deal—’
‘You don’t have the money?’
‘We can raise a loan for the acquisition, that’s no problem. I’m just whetting your appetite to buy into the Eagles Group, let you know how extensive we’ll be shortly in the United States.’ Roland thought back to the conversation he’d had with Sally the night he’d made his peace with Daniel Rushden, when he’d pointed out the three companies within the Eagles Group which meant the most to him. ‘I hold forty percent of the Eagles Group, Heinrich, and I’m willing to sell some of my holdings to you so that I can pull three companies out and own them privately.’
‘Which three companies?’
‘The Eagle – not the entire publishing group, just the newspaper, Eldridge’s and Adler’s.’
‘Which would leave the group with what?’
Roland ticked off the companies on his fingers. ‘Girard et Fils in France, the companies we own in Scandinavia, the remainder of Burnham Press, Biwell in the States, along with the BarGanz stores once we finalize that, and the electrical appliance shops we still own over here. Not to mention the cash I’d pay for Eldridge’s, the Eagle and Adler’s.’
Kassler thought it over. ‘Why those three companies?’
‘Sentimental reasons. They all mean something very special to me.’
‘In what way?’
‘Eldridge’s has a strong link with Katherine’s mother, my first wife. The Eagle’ – he paused, not wanting to go into detail about how the newspaper walkout had made him rethink his attitude toward the press – ‘let’s just say it bears my name.’
‘And Adler’s?’ Kassler asked. Before Roland could give the same reason he’d given Sally – his first major acquisition – the German said, ‘Because it also bears your name. I’ve thought of that coincidence often, Roland, the reason you fought so strongly for that particular group. Adler is German for Eagle. You were astute enough to buy a group that already bore your name.’
Roland laughed. ‘I think you’re the first person who ever caught that, Heinrich.’
‘If I can remember my way perfectly through four decks of cards, how hard is it translating a single word of German to English?’
‘Are you interested in a deal?’
Kassler waved down a waiter who was passing, took a stack of paper napkins from the surprised man. ‘Figures . . . let us work on figures, Roland. Exactly how much of your holdings are you prepared to sell to Kassler Industries, and at what price?’
Roland sat back and watched Kassler busily scribbling figures. Maybe he hadn’t won at roulette as he thought he might, but this was even better . . . the opportunity to own privately the three companies which meant the most to him.
‘Roland . . .’ Kassler finally finished writing; four napkins were crammed full of figures, and Roland’s eyes caught the European crossed seven, just to make sure it wasn’t mistaken for a one. ‘I think we might have a deal here.’
‘Good. What better way to celebrate a marriage than to join two companies such as our own?’
‘What better way indeed?’ Kassler said, nodding in happy agreement. ‘That cigar you offered me during the walk here? I think I’ll have it now.’
*
Three months later, Roland and Michael Adler flew to New York to finalize the acquisition of the BarGanz discount store chain. Their first move on gaining control was to drop the BarGanz name and tie the chain in with the Biwell group; almost overnight, the Biwell name appeared in suburban shopping malls throughout New England, the East Coast and in the South, as BarGanz disappeared.
Michael’s wife, Lisa, and Sally accompanied the two men on the trip. While Michael and Roland worked, the two women shopped and planned for dinners and shows during the evening, turning what was ostensibly a business trip into a mini-vacation. During the preceding months, Roland had grown closer to Sally; whenever he wanted a dinner companion, someone to talk to, it was always S
ally he seemed to turn to. Once he’d tried to rationalize the increasing nearness by telling himself he was merely using her as a substitute for Michael, who had been Roland’s constant companion before his marriage. Of all Roland’s friends, with the exception of Alf Goldstein, Sally went back the furthest.
During dinner on their final night in New York, Roland and Michael discussed the management team that would be needed to run the large discount store chain. Michael nominated himself to head the team; and Lisa, eager to try living in the United States, was quick to support him.
‘Sorry . . .’ Roland said regretfully, ‘you’re not coming over here on a permanent basis, Michael.’
‘Why not?’ Michael and Lisa asked together.
‘For the same reason I gave my son-in-law when he asked to move over here.’ Franz and Katherine had peppered Roland with requests to be involved with the expanded American side of the business. ‘You’re family, Michael.’
‘Close friend, yes – family’s a little strong.’
‘You know what I mean, friends are often closer. Let’s just say I’m too selfish to let you go.’ He needed Michael full-time at the Eagles Group main office. Since Kassler’s purchase of stock and the separation of the Eagle, Adler’s and Eldridge’s from the main group, Roland was spending more time on the restructuring of his privately owned empire. ‘You and Lisa can make all the trips you like over here for the board meetings, but I want you to stay based in London.’ He saw Michael open his mouth to protest again but stopped him. ‘Besides, who’s going to keep an eye on your father if you relocate over here, Michael? Think about that.’
Michael pursed his lips. Why Roland should even think of such a thing was beyond him; his consideration for a former adversary went far beyond the bounds of anything Michael might have expected.
‘Your father’s in his seventies, Michael, and you’re all he’s got. Make the most of each other while you can.’
The last comment brought an instant flush to Michael’s cheeks. He saw Albert once or twice a week, dreaded the visits but made them out of a sense of duty. If the weather was nice when Michael called, Albert would insist on his son taking him out for a short walk, clutching his arm tightly while he asked about the business, anxious to hear any details Michael could supply. Michael never understood why his father should be so interested in the business, but he realized he was Albert’s only real contact with the outside world, except for the nurse who only coddled him.
