Kane & Abel (1979) (80 page)

The room was silent. William felt sure he had won the day until Jake Thomas asked if the board might question him about his relationship with Rosnovski. The request took William by surprise, but he agreed without hesitation. Jake Thomas didn’t frighten him.

‘This vendetta between you and Mr Rosnovski,’ said Thomas, ‘has been going on for over thirty years. Do you believe that if we accepted your proposal, that would be the end of the matter?’

‘What else can the man do? What else can he do?’ stammered William, looking around the boardroom table for support.

‘We can’t predict what his next move will be,’ said Thomas.

‘And with an eight per cent holding in the bank, he can hold us all to ransom,’ added Hamilton, the new company secretary - not William’s choice, he talked too much. ‘All we know is that neither of you seems willing to end this feud. Although you’ve offered ten million dollars of your own money to protect the bank’s financial position, if Rosnovski were continually to hold up policy decisions, call proxy meetings and arrange takeover bids, while having absolutely no regard for the long-term interests of the bank, it could cause panic among our investors, and be taken advantage of by our rivals. The bank and its subsidiary companies, to which we have a fiduciary duty as directors, would at best be highly embarrassed, and at worst might eventually collapse.’

‘No, no,’ said William. ‘With my personal backing we could meet him head on.’

‘The decision we have to make today,’ continued the company secretary, sounding as well prepared as William, ‘is whether there are any circumstances in which this board wants to meet Mr Rosnovski head on, if it were to result in all of us being losers in the long run.’

‘Not if I cover the cost from my private trust,’ said William.

‘It’s not just a question of money,’ said Thomas. ‘Now that Rosnovski can invoke Article Seven, the bank could find itself spending its entire time trying to anticipate his next move.’

Thomas waited for the effect of what he had said to sink in before he continued: ‘Now, I must ask you a very serious personal question, Mr Chairman, which concerns every one of us around this table. I hope you’ll be nothing less than frank when you answer it, however unpleasant that may be.’

William looked up, wondering what the question could be. What had they been discussing behind his back? ‘I will answer any question the board requires,’ said William. ‘I have nothing to hide and no one to fear.’ He looked pointedly at Thomas.

‘Thank you,’ said Thomas, not flinching. ‘Mr Chairman, were you in any way involved with sending a file to the Justice Department in Washington that caused Mr Rosnovski to be arrested and charged with fraud, when at the same time you knew he was a major stockholder of the bank?’

‘Did he tell you that?’ demanded William.

‘Yes. He claims you were the sole reason for his arrest.’

William considered his reply for a few moments. He’d never lied to the board in over twenty-three years, and he didn’t intend to start now.

‘Yes, I did,’ he said, breaking the silence. ‘When the information came into my hands, I considered it was nothing less than my duty to pass it on to the Justice Department.’

‘How did the information come into your hands?’

William did not reply.

‘I think we all know the answer to that question, Mr Chairman,’ said Thomas. ‘Moreover, you decided on this action without briefing the board, putting all of us in jeopardy. Our reputations, our careers, everything this bank stands for - all because of a personal vendetta.’

‘But Rosnovski was trying to ruin me!’ said William, aware he was shouting.

‘So in order to ruin him, you risked the bank’s long-term stability and reputation.’

‘It’s my bank,’ said William.

‘It is not your bank,’ said Thomas firmly. ‘You own eight per cent of the stock, as does Mr Rosnovski. You may be chairman at this moment, but the bank is not yours to use at your personal whim without consulting the other directors.’

‘Then I will have to ask the board for a vote of confidence,’ said William. ‘I’ll ask you to support me against Abel Rosnovski.’

‘That is not what a vote of confidence would be about,’ said the company secretary. ‘It would be about whether you are the right person to continue running this bank in the present circumstances. Can’t you see that, Mr Chairman?’

‘So be it,’ said William. ‘The board must decide whether it wishes to end my career in disgrace, after nearly a quarter of a century’s service, or to yield to the threats of a convicted criminal.’

Jake Thomas nodded to the company secretary, and voting slips were passed to every board member. It was beginning to look to William as if everything had been planned long before the meeting took place. He glanced around the crowded table at the twenty-nine men. Many of them he had chosen himself. Some of them surely wouldn’t allow Rosnovski to remove him from his own boardroom. Not now. Not this way.

He watched the members of the board as they passed their voting slips back to the secretary. Once they had all been handed in, Hamilton began opening them slowly, meticulously noting down each ‘aye’ and ‘nay’ in two columns on a piece of paper in front of him. William could see that one list was considerably longer than the other, but he could not decipher which was which.

Finally the secretary announced that all the votes had been counted. He then solemnly said that William Kane had lost the vote of confidence by seventeen votes to twelve.

William couldn’t believe what he had heard. Abel Rosnovski had defeated him in his own boardroom. He managed to stand up with the use of his cane, but no one spoke as he left the boardroom. He went to his office and collected his coat, pausing only to glance at the portrait of Charles Lester for the last time, before walking slowly down the long corridor and towards the front entrance.

Harry opened the door for him and said, ‘Nice to have you back again, Mr Chairman. See you tomorrow, sir.’

William realized he would never see Harry again. He turned and shook hands with the man who had directed him to the boardroom twenty-three years before.

Harry looked surprised. ‘Good night, sir,’ he said, and watched as William climbed into the back of his car and was driven home.

As William stepped out of the car on East Sixty-Eighth Street, he collapsed onto the pavement in front of his home. The chauffeur and Kate had to help him up the steps and into the house. Kate could see that he was crying as she put her arms around him.

‘What is it, William? What’s happened?’

‘I’ve been thrown out of the bank,’ he wept. ‘My own board no longer has confidence in me. When it mattered, they supported Rosnovski.’

Kate managed to get him up to bed, and sat with him through the night. He did not say another word. Nor did he sleep.

The announcement in
The Wall Street Journal
the following Monday morning was succinct: William Lowell Kane, the President and Chairman of Lester’s Bank, resigned following last Friday’s board meeting.’ No explanation was given for his sudden departure, and there was no suggestion that his son would take his place on the board. William sat in his bed aware that rumours would be sweeping through Wall Street that morning, and that the worst would be assumed. He no longer cared for this world.

After Abel Rosnovski had read the same announcement he picked up the phone, dialled Lester’s Bank and asked to be put through to the new chairman. A few moments later Jake Thomas came on the line.

‘Good morning, Mr Rosnovski.’

‘Good morning, Mr Thomas. I’m just phoning to confirm that I shall release all my Interstate Airways shares to the bank this morning at the market price, and my eight per cent holding in Lester’s to you personally for two million dollars.’

‘Thank you, Mr Rosnovski, that’s most generous of you.’

‘No need to thank me, Mr Chairman,’ said Abel. ‘It’s no more than we agreed when you sold me your two per cent.’

A
BEL WAS
surprised to find how little satisfaction his final triumph gave him. A Pyrrhic victory.

George tried to persuade him to travel to Warsaw and look over possible sites for the new Baron, but he wasn’t interested. As he grew older, he became fearful of dying abroad having never seen Florentyna again, and for months he showed scant interest in the group’s activities.

When John F. Kennedy was assassinated on November 22, 1963, Abel became even more depressed, and began to fear for his adopted country. Eventually George managed to convince him that a trip abroad could do no harm, and that he might return invigorated.

Abel took George’s advice and flew directly to Warsaw, something he never thought he’d do in his lifetime. His command of the language and long history of fighting for Polish recognition helped him to secure a confidential agreement from the Government to build the first Baron in a communist country. He was pleased to beat Conrad Hilton and Charles Forte to be the first international hotelier behind the Iron Curtain. But he couldn’t help thinking … and it didn’t help when Lyndon Johnson appointed John Gronowski to be the first Polish-American ambassador. But nothing seemed to give him any real satisfaction any more. He may have defeated William Kane, but he’d lost his daughter, and he suspected Kane was having the same problem with his son.

After the Warsaw deal was signed he roamed the world, staying in his existing hotels, watching the construction of new ones and selecting sites for ones he may never live to see. In Cape Town he opened the first Baron in South Africa, then he flew to Germany to open another in Du sseldorf. He then lingered for six months in his favourite Baron, in Paris, roaming the streets by day and attending the opera and the theatre at night, hoping to revive happy memories of the days he spent there with Florentyna.

Finally he left Paris and returned to America. As he descended the metal steps of an Air France 707 at Kennedy International Airport, his back hunched and his bald head covered with a black hat, nobody recognized him. George, as always, was there to greet him; loyal, honest George, looking quite a bit older.

On the drive into Manhattan, George brought him up to date with the group news. The profits continued to grow as its keen young executives thrust forward in every major country in the world. Seventy-two hotels with a staff of over 22,000. Abel didn’t seem to be listening. He only wanted news of Florentyna.

‘She’s well,’ said George. ‘She’s coming to New York early next year.’

‘Why?’ asked Abel, suddenly excited.

‘She’s opening one of her shops on Fifth Avenue.’

‘Fifth Avenue? Lucky you didn’t take that bet, George.’

George smiled. ‘The eleventh Florentyna’s.’

‘Have you seen her, George?’

‘Yes,’ he admitted.

‘Is she well, is she happy?’

‘Both of them are well and happy, and so successful. Abel, you should be very proud of them. Your grandson is quite a boy, and as for your granddaughter - she’s the image of Florentyna when she was that age.’

‘Will she see me?’

‘Will you agree to meet her husband?’

‘No, George. I can never meet that boy, not while his father’s still alive.’

‘What if you die first?’

‘You mustn’t believe everything you read in the Bible,’ said Abel. They drove in silence back to the hotel, and Abel dined alone in his suite that night.

For the next six months, he rarely left the penthouse.

W
HEN
F
LORENTYNA
K
ANE
opened her new boutique on Fifth Avenue in March 1967, everyone in New York seemed to be there to join in the celebration, except William Kane and Abel Rosnovski.

Kate tucked William up in bed and left him muttering to himself while she, Virginia and Lucy went off to attend the opening. George left Abel alone in his suite and set off for Fifth Avenue. He had tried to talk him into coming along with him. Abel grunted that his daughter had managed to open ten shops without him, and one more wouldn’t make any difference. George told him he was a stubborn old fool and left for Fifth Avenue on his own. Abel knew he was right.