by Lewis Orde
‘Who do you have in mind to head this team?’ Michael asked.
‘I was thinking of Lawrence Chivers.’
‘Lawrence? He’s pushing sixty.’
‘That’s right, but he wants to keep on at it. He’s enjoyed what we’ve accomplished as much as any of us. Besides, since his wife died four years ago, he hasn’t got any really strong ties to keep him in England.’ Roland thought fondly of the pipe-smoking Yorkshireman, another who had been with him for many years. Chivers had already retired once on his fifty-fifth birthday, but his wife had died shortly afterwards. Not having any children and with nothing else to keep him busy, he asked Roland if he could return. Roland had already appointed a new director in his place; nonetheless, he created a position for Chivers at his former salary with the promise that he could stay with the firm for as long as he wanted. When the possibility of heading an American management team had cropped up, Chivers had jumped at the challenge – a new area where he felt he could use his experience and expertise.
‘With his accent and that blasted pipe stuck permanently in his mouth, no one will be able to understand a blasted word he says,’ Michael joked.
‘Be that as it may,’ Roland said, ‘but he’ll do an excellent job for us during the transition period. After that, he can stay here for as long as he likes.’
‘Who’ll help him?’
‘I was thinking of putting Vincent Generoso in as Lawrence’s number two.’
Michael chewed his lower lip thoughtfully as he considered Roland’s answer. Generoso, a tall, elegant, gray-haired man in his late forties, had been a vice-president of the BarGanz operation, having worked himself up through the Ganz parent company. Although his future with the parent company was assured, even if not at immediate board level, Roland had approached him during the negotiations to see if he were amenable to joining the Biwell group as it absorbed the much larger BarGanz discount chain. ‘He knows his way around, that’s for sure. Could be a big help to Lawrence,’ Michael said.
Roland nodded. ‘He was with BarGanz when it started, slotted in from the parent company and given board position. It seems stupid to me not to use him. We’ll have to make up his pension rights and meet a few other conditions, but that seems a small price to pay for someone who already has the situation at his fingertips.’
‘How do you think he’ll get on with Lawrence?’
‘We’ll have to find that out, although I’ve got a suspicion that Generoso might have been thinking company president when I brought up the matter of his staying with us. I’m meeting with him tomorrow before we catch the London flight.’
‘Are you two going to carry on talking business all night long?’ Sally asked. ‘We have tickets for a show, so make up your minds whether or not you want to see it with us. Otherwise Lisa and I will find two other men to take.’
Roland gave her an admonishing glance. ‘Last time I bring you along for the ride. You nag me enough in London, so why do I have to listen to it here as well?’
‘Look where you’d be if I didn’t nag you from time to time,’ Sally retorted. ‘And, come to think of it, make sure you call the London office before we leave tomorrow, otherwise we won’t be met at the airport.’
‘Does Lisa nag you?’ Roland asked Michael as they left the restaurant and searched for a taxi. ‘No, of course not,’ he said, answering his own question. ‘You left getting married too late for there to be any time for nagging.’
*
Roland met with Vincent Generoso the following morning at the Biwell Group’s head office above its Lexington Avenue store. He could see immediately that Generoso wasn’t very happy at the idea of occupying a number two position and he tried to put the former BarGanz vice president at ease.
‘It’s essential for us to have one of our own people here at the beginning, Vince. Any foreign company that acquires a large American concern would act the same way. But I’m counting on you, on your experience with this particular market, to back up Lawrence.’
‘How long will this arrangement last?’ Generoso wanted to join Roland, to be part of what he considered a fast-expanding company. Yet he didn’t relish the prospect of playing second fiddle to an import. He had put in six years of hard work with BarGanz and felt vaguely betrayed at how the discount store operation had been sold off once Ganz had taken over. Roland’s offer to join Biwell was more palatable than the prospect of returning to the Ganz organization, washing his hands of the time and effort he’d spent building up BarGanz, but Generoso expected more. Surely those six years were worth the presidency?
‘I’m going to have to ask you to be patient with me. Lawrence is going to be here to knock the company into the shape that conforms with Eagles Group standards. Once he’s satisfied that he’s accomplished that, and once he decides he wants to call it a day, the top spot is yours. And with the presidency goes an appointment to the main board of the Eagles Group. Are you prepared to bear with me?’
‘I think so.’ The appointment to the main board was like a beacon. ‘You can tell Lawrence Chivers that he’ll be able to count on me for any support.’
Roland smiled and shook the New Yorker’s hand, sealing the bargain. ‘You can tell him that yourself, Vince. He’ll be over next week to look for a place to live. Maybe you can help him out there.’
Chapter Two
The next three years were among the happiest Roland could remember, one of the main reasons being the two grandchildren Katherine and Franz gave him – a boy named Henry, after Roland’s father and a girl named Joanne.
With some of the money from Nicanor Menendez’s generous wedding gift, Katherine and Franz bought a sprawling six-bedroom house overlooking Hampstead Heath, which they renovated completely. It seemed to Roland that he spent more time there than at his own home, playing with his grandchildren – both of whom had inherited the blue-eyed blondness of their parents – taking them for walks in the baby carriage, playing the role of doting grandfather, albeit a very youthful one, to the fullest extent. He was especially glad when Katherine always remembered to send copies of any photographs of the children to Menendez in Argentina. He regretted never having done the same with photographs of Katherine when she was growing up, but he’d never thought of it. Perhaps had he done so he could have healed that particular rift years earlier . . .
The two businesses he was now involved with – the Eagles Group with its major foothold in the United States under Lawrence Chivers’ supervision, and the companies he’d separated and now owned privately – were prospering; Roland had even looked into the possibility of opening an Eldridge’s restaurant in New York. Michael Adler was on the board of the smaller group, as was Franz Kassler, who was no longer involved with the main Eagles Group. Roland often wondered if the young man was glad not to be associated in business with his father, although the two seemed much closer now than they had ever been. The grandchildren had done that, Roland decided. Kassler now visited London regularly. Although he had business there as a large shareholder and a director of the Eagles Group, he spent as many hours with his son and his family as he did in the Eagles Group offices. The gifts he brought each time for the children left them with little space in their rooms for their beds. Roland, too, had become closer to Kassler, now that they were linked by family and business. He always looked forward to Kassler’s visits to London; they would even argue good-naturedly over whose turn it was to take the children out, whose turn it was to push the baby carriage, then they would laugh at the sight of two middle-aged executives fighting over such an issue. Kassler’s visits also gave Roland an excuse to frequent the casinos and rekindle his love of gambling.
Roland’s greatest pleasure of all, though, was to be surrounded by what he called his extended family which included the Kasslers and Sally, Michael and Lisa Adler, the Morrisons and Richard and Carol. Then he was truly in his element, the leader of a thriving tribe, a throwback to the old lords of the manor who cared for everyone on their land. For his forty-eighth birt
hday in September of 1972 he took everyone on a five-day trip to the Bahamas, playing on the beach with the children during the day, and amusing himself in Kassler’s company in the casinos at night. After two visits to the casino, however, Kassler was politely but firmly banned from the blackjack table. The card counting he had employed in London and Monte Carlo was not welcomed by the American dealers and supervisors in the Bahamas. When Roland suggested he try a different game, the German refused. Blackjack was the only game where he could eventually work the cards in his favor; he was interested in nothing at which he couldn’t be reasonably certain of winning.
Aside from the contentment he received from family and business, Roland had one other happy event to anticipate . . . a knighthood for services to industry. He had been approached by the government to see whether he would be amenable to being included in the 1974 New Year’s Honours List. He had replied with a touch of vanity – feeling that he deserved it – that not only would he be amenable, he would be absolutely delighted . . .
‘You!’ Sally exploded with laughter when Roland told her the news, during dinner at her apartment the next night. ‘Sir Roland Eagles?’
‘What’s wrong with it?’ He didn’t consider it a laughing matter; neither did anyone else to whom he’d mentioned it confidentially. Katherine, especially had been thrilled by the notion.
Sally wielded an imaginary sword, laid it gently across Roland’s shoulders. ‘I dub thee Sir Roland Eagles. Oh, God . . .!’ She burst into laughter again. ‘Half the people who’ve ever been knighted will return theirs to Buckingham Palace once they find out you’ve been made a knight, just like those pompous idiots who sent back their OBEs after the Beatles were honored. I never thought I’d live to see the day when you’d not only accept such a thing but actually be proud of it. Whatever happened to Roland “the-establishment-can’t-bribe-me” Eagles?’
‘Don’t criticize it, Sally.’
‘Criticize it, hell! I expect you’ll want me to call you sir in the future.’
Sally’s remark made Roland think of all the people he’d ever called sir – superior officers in the army, Spott-Mandray, even Nicanor Menendez. How many of those people had ever done anything worthy of the respect? Certainly not Old Spotty! ‘I think I’ll fire anyone who calls me sir.’
‘Ha!’ Sally cried triumphantly. ‘You don’t really want the title, do you?’
‘Actually, now that it’s been offered to me, I think I do. I didn’t inherit a massive fortune or a company running very nicely, thank you very much. Whatever I’ve got I achieved myself. That deserves some recognition.’
‘You’ve got all the recognition you ever wanted, Roland Eagles. Family, friends, people who respect and admire you. Some of them, although God alone knows why, even love you. And they’ll probably still feel the same way even if you are knighted.’
‘I should hope so. A knighthood will go well’ – he winked at Sally – ‘with my Military Cross and my Military Medal.’
‘Oh, you conceited bugger!’ She wielded the imaginary sword again and lopped his head clean off.
*
In mid-December, two weeks before his name was due to appear in the New Year’s Honours List, Roland flew with Michael Adler to New York for a board meeting of the Biwell Group. Heinrich Kassler accompanied them as well not only to lend his weight as a member of the Eagles Group main board, but because he was interested in a takeover Roland was trying to arrange of an ailing group of eight discount stores named Brady, located in the New York-New Jersey area. Only one other company was bidding for the Brady stock, and Roland hoped that a heavy presence from the main board might swing the decision in his favor.
Vincent Generoso met the early afternoon flight from London. After shaking hands with Roland, Michael and Kassler, Generoso led the visitors out of the terminal to a Cadillac limousine with darkened windows. The chauffeur, a heavy-set square man with a neck that bulged over his shirt collar, dropped the car into gear and sped away from the airport, heading for Manhattan.
‘Stuffy in here,’ Roland remarked. Outside it was forty-five degrees, and the limousine’s heating seemed to be on full blast. He reached to open a window.
‘Please don’t do that,’ Generoso said. ‘I’ll turn down the heating if you prefer.’
‘What’s wrong with having a window open?’
‘Lawrence Chivers’ orders.’ Generoso fiddled with a dial and the temperature dropped quickly. ‘You’d better take one of these as well.’ Generoso handed out plastic identification tags to Roland, Michael and Kassler, instructed them to wear the cards on their jacket lapels.
‘What in God’s name is the reason for this?’ Roland demanded. ‘We’ve never done this before.’
Generoso sighed. ‘New policy. Lawrence asked me to put you in the picture during the drive from the airport. We’ve had a problem develop in the past couple of weeks and we’ve had to tighten up on security.’
Kassler looked around the inside of the limousine, rapped his knuckles against the windows; now he understood why they were darkened. ‘Is this a bulletproof car?’
‘Yes, it is. Enjoying the ride?’
‘Beautiful,’ the German grunted sarcastically.
‘What kind of a problem?’ Michael asked. He was starting to feel nervous. Installing scanners in company mail rooms to check for bombs was one thing; every large company in Britain was doing that now. But not being allowed to open a window, being driven around in an armored car . . . what kind of business operation was that? All of a sudden he was glad Roland had rejected his request to work in the United States.
‘It began two weeks ago with something quite minor,’ Generoso replied. ‘A large box of cockroaches was let loose in our Rego Park store. I was there when it happened and you can imagine the pandemonium.’
Roland nodded and he heard Michael suck in his breath.
‘That closed the store for three days,’ Generoso continued. ‘The exterminators had to come in, inventory was moved out, everything checked carefully. Then last week we had a small fire in the children’s wear department of our Lexington Avenue store, below the executive offices. Police say an incendiary device was concealed in the clothing. On the following night, one of our transportation depots was broken into. The tires on twenty trucks were slashed, windshields and headlights smashed. Also, one of our store managers had his home broken into, absolutely destroyed. He and his family were on vacation at the time, thank God. That was when we began to take these security measures.’
‘What’s behind it all?’ Roland asked.
‘Lawrence seems to think it might have something to do with our trying to buy up those eight Brady stores.’
‘I see.’ Roland stared at the back of the chauffeur’s head and wondered whether the man was armed. ‘How do you know the break-in at the manager’s home wasn’t just an ordinary burglary?’
‘The detectives who investigated it told us they’d never seen such systematic destruction. Besides, nothing was actually taken.’
At the Lexington Avenue headquarters of Biwell two uniformed men stood at the main entrance – not the usual company guards who watched for shoplifters and directed people to different departments, but two armed security guards. On the top floor, before Roland, Michael and Kassler were allowed to enter the office area, the passes Generoso had given them were scrutinized by another armed guard. Roland felt like he was visiting a prisoner in a top-security ward.
‘Lawrence, just what the hell is going on?’ Roland demanded the moment he saw Chivers. ‘When I was over here six weeks ago you were running a chain of stores; now you’re running an armed camp.’
‘What did Vince tell you?’
‘He mentioned the troubles you’ve been having, but aren’t you overreacting just a little bit? Are all these melodramatics really necessary?’
‘Our own security people seem to think so.’
‘Was that chauffeur armed?’
‘Yes. Bernie’s a former police officer.’
Chivers smiled and picked up the pipe which lay on his desk, lit it to surround himself with a familiar cloud of gray, pungent smoke. ‘He was, to use the local vernacular, packing a rod. I trust you all feel immensely safer.’
The attempted humor fell flat. ‘Vince said this whole thing’s to do with those eight Brady stores we want.’
‘I think so, although the police have nothing to go on, no proof that these incidents are even related. My own belief is that the firm competing with us for the Brady acquisition, a New Jersey company called Milano, they own four stores—’
‘I know of them.’
‘I don’t think they believe in a free and open market.’
‘Mafia?’ The question came from Michael.
‘That’s an all-encompassing term that covers a multitude of evils. A very slick bunch of thugs is more like it,’ Chivers explained. ‘Either the company is a Mafia business, a legitimate – and I use that word loosely – front for the Mafia money, or else it’s hiring these thugs to keep us from buying Brady.’
‘How much is the Milano offer?’ Kassler asked.
‘Two million dollars below our own.’
‘I see,’ Kassler said. ‘And who is behind Milano?’
‘Joe Milano’s the man who owns it. He started out twenty years ago in the garbage collection business in New Jersey, servicing a few towns. Since then he’s become more respectable.’
‘Have the police tried to establish a link between these incidents and Milano?’ Michael asked.
‘They have to catch someone first.’
‘How often does this kind of thing happen?’
Before Chivers could answer, Generoso cut in. ‘There was quite an infamous case a few years back, in 1964 I think it was. The Mafia did fifty-million dollars worth of property damage to the A & P and murdered two of its managers to try and persuade the company to stock a detergent in which the Mafia had a considerable financial interest. If this is what’s behind these incidents, I think it would be to our advantage to remember that these people play tough. And they play for keeps.’
