The Betsy (1971) (6 page)

 Chapter Nine

There was a Telex waiting for me at the Fairmont Hotel when I stepped up to the registration desk. It was from Loren.

UNDERSTAND LADY AYRES ON YOUR FLIGHT TO SAN FRANCISCO. WOULD APPRECIATE ANY COURTESIES AND ASSISTANCE YOU CAN EXTEND TO HER. REGARDS.

L.H. III.

I smiled wryly and gave it to her, then turned back to the desk and signed in.

The room clerk looked at the signature, then at the room chart. “We have your suite ready, Mr. Perino. It’s in the new tower.”

“Thank you,” I said.

He signaled a bellboy. “Would you show Mr. and Mrs. Perino to 2112, please.” He smiled at me. “Have a pleasant stay, Mr. Perino.”

We followed the bellboy down the long corridor to the Tower elevators. She still held the Telex in her hand as we boarded. Silently she gave it back to me.

She didn’t speak until we were alone in the room. “How do you think he knew?”

“The Detroit gestapo,” I said. “Every motor company has one. They don’t like secrets.”

“I resent it,” she said. “It’s none of their affair where I go or what I do.”

“You should be flattered. That sort of treatment is usually reserved only for people important to the business.”

“What has that to do with me?”

“Come off it, Bobbie. I saw the way Loren looked at you. He’s interested.”

“All American men are interested. Young blond widow and all that rot. Why should he be any different?”

“Because he’s Loren Hardeman Three, that’s why. And kings are supposed to be above that sort of thing.”

“Only American kings,” she said. “We British know better.”

I went over to the desk and pulled out a telegraph form. The bellboy came in with the luggage while I was writing. He put the valises in the bedroom. I signaled him to wait until I finished.

“Take a look at that,” I said, handing the form to her.

She looked down at it.

HARDEMAN III, BETHMO, DETROIT.

INSTRUCTIONS RECEIVED. EVERYTHING UNDER CONTROL. REGARDS.

PERINO.

She was smiling when she returned it to me. I gave it to the bellboy with his tip. He closed the door behind him.

The telephone rang just as he left. I picked it up. It was Arnold Zicker, otherwise known as the merger shark. He was responsible for more corporate mergers and acquisitions than perhaps any man in the United States.

“I’ve got Tony Rourke standing by for dinner,” he said. “Eight thirty okay?”

“Eight thirty okay,” I said. “Where?”

“Make it the hotel,” he said. “It’ll be easier.” He was also one of the cheapest men in the world. If we ate at the hotel, it was only natural I should put it on my bill.

“Okay,” I said. I put down the phone and looked up at her. “Dinner all right at eight thirty?”

She nodded. “Perfect. Do you have anything special to do until then?”

“No.”

“Then let’s go to bed and fuck,” she said. “You don’t think I flew all the way out here just to have dinner?”

It was beautiful. Really beautiful. I think both of us were surprised, then a bit shaken by the deep emotional impact.

We clung together after the passion had been spent. I didn’t want to leave her. I felt her trembling. Her flesh was my flesh.

“Hey, man,” I said, still trying to understand it. “What happened?”

Her arms tightened around my neck, holding my cheek close to her. “The stars fell in,” she whispered.

I was silent.

“I needed you,” she said. “You don’t know how much.”

I put my finger on her lips. “You talk too much.”

She nipped my finger. “Women always do,” she said. “It’s because they never know what to say afterwards.”

I put my face down on her shoulder.

She turned her head to look at me. “Somehow I knew it would be like this with us.”

“Don’t get sloppy,” I said. “It’s not British.”

“What do I have to say to make you realize that it isn’t always like this?” she asked, almost angry.

I smiled at her. “What makes you think I don’t know? I’m still inside you, aren’t I? Usually, by now I’m out of bed, washing my cock.”

“I’ll wash it for you,” she said. “With my juices. I’ll drown it.”

Just then the telephone rang. I reached across her and picked it up. It was Loren.

“I just got your wire,” he said.

“Good.”

“Everything okay? Where is she?”

“Right here. I’ll let you speak with her.” I put the phone in her hand.

“I’m fine, Loren,” she said. “No, really, everything is all right. … It was lovely, but I’d imposed long enough. … Yes, thank you. … I’ll stay on the Coast for a few weeks and then maybe I’ll go over the pole back to London. … I’ll call you before I do. … We’re just about to leave for dinner. … Give my love to Alicia. … Good-bye.”

She put the phone back on the cradle, then pushed me off her. I rolled over on my back and she sat up and looked down at me. “You really are quite a bastard,” she said.

Then we both began to laugh.

They were seated at the bar when we came into the cocktail lounge. Their eyes snapped open when they saw her. No one wears a micro-mini quite like an English girl. Her legs never stopped.

Arnold slid to his feet from the bar stool. “Tony Rourke, Angelo Perino.”

Rourke was a big black Irishman with a squinting driver’s face. I liked him right away. We shook hands.

I introduced her and they made room for her. All conversation halted for a moment as she climbed up on the bar stool. It was something to watch. Then we ordered drinks.

I allowed exactly five minutes for the usual pleasantries, then pushed right in. I looked at Rourke. “Arnold tells me that you might have the setup I’m interested in.”

“We just might,” he answered cautiously.

“It is right,” Arnold came on enthusiastically. “Eighteen thousand acres of prime industrial site, two thousand of it with hangar construction that could fit right into your purposes, the rest can be developed as you need it. It also includes almost a mile of waterfront and railroad tracks coming right into it.”

I ignored him. He was selling. “I don’t understand,” I said to Rourke. “Why are you looking for out?”

“Honest?”

I nodded.

“No tomorrows,” he said.

I was silent.

“The handwriting is on the wall,” he said. “With the cutbacks in defense coming up, we’ll be the first to go.”

“What makes you think that?” I asked. “They’ll still need helicopters.” That was their principal line.

“Nowhere near as many,” he said. “We’re fine as long as the big boys are busy with other projects. Boeing with their seven-forty-sevens; Lockheed’s ten-eleven; the SST which will never pass Congress. It will be easy enough to move it away from us and give it to them. And they’ll have to do it, there’s more to protect there than with us. More personnel, more capital.”

“What about commercial application for your planes?”

“Forget it. That market’s already sewn up. Besides our helicopter just isn’t adaptable. It was designed as a fighting machine.” He took another sip of his drink. “We’re already on notice that we won’t be renewed for next year.”

“I appreciate that,” I said, looking into his eyes. “You’re being very honest.”

He smiled. “That’s what you asked for, that’s what you got. Besides I didn’t tell you anything you wouldn’t find out for yourself when you checked around.”

“Thanks anyway,” I said. “You saved a lot of time and bullshit. Do you have all the plans and information with you?”

“Right here,” he said, pointing to an attaché case resting on the floor near his feet.

“Good,” I said. “Let’s go in to dinner and then we can go upstairs and look them over.”

It was after three o’clock in the morning when they finally left the suite. “I have a plane at the airport to bring you out to the plant whenever you’re ready,” Rourke said.

“Thank you. You’ll hear from me tomorrow.”

John Duncan was due in on a morning flight. He had retired from Bethlehem four years ago when he was sixty. He was the only other man that Number One took into his confidence.

“John Duncan is to me what Charlie Sorensen was to Henry Ford,” he had said. “There’s nothing he can’t do in Production.”

“But he’s retired,” I had said.

“He’ll come back,” Number One said confidently. “If I know John he has to be bored out of his mind working alone on that gas turbine engine of his out in the garage back of his house.”

And Number One had been right. All John Duncan wanted to know was when we were going to start.

The door closed behind them. I walked back into the room and fixed myself a drink. I pushed a pile of papers aside and sank onto the couch.

“They’re gone?” Her voice came from the doorway to the bedroom.

I looked up. She was wearing a kaftan of polished cotton that clung to all the promises beneath. I nodded.

“I fell asleep,” she said. “But I kept hearing the drone of your voices. What time is it?”

I looked at my watch. “Three twenty.”

“You must be fagged.”

She made herself a gin and tonic and sat in the lounge chair opposite me. She tasted the drink. “It doesn’t make sense,” she said. “You don’t need all that just to build racing cars, do you?”

I shook my head.

“You’re onto something else, aren’t you?”

I nodded.

She hesitated. “Does Loren know what you’re about?”

“No.”

She was silent for a moment while she sipped at her drink. “Aren’t you worried?” she asked finally.

“About what?”

“About me,” she said. “That I might say something to him?”

“No.”

“Why not? You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know enough,” I said. I got to my feet and added some Canadian to my drink, then turned back to her. “Besides happening to be one of the great cunts of the world, I also happen to think that you’re a very honorable lady.”

She was very still, then she moistened her lips with her tongue. “I love you,” she said.

“I know that too,” I said. And grinned.

She threw her drink at me and we went to bed. It was still beautiful.

 Chapter Ten

She came up behind me while I was shaving. I heard her over the hum of the electric razor. “You screamed in your sleep last night,” she said. “You sat up in bed and covered your face with your hands and screamed.”

I looked into the mirror at her. “I’m sorry.”

“At first I didn’t know what to do,” she said. “Then I took you in my arms and you went back to sleep.”

“I don’t remember,” I said, putting down the razor. But that wasn’t true. The dream never left me. Asleep or awake. I splashed some aftershave on my face.

“What is it, Angelo?” she asked. “Is that why your eyes don’t smile?”

“I died,” I said. “The lucky ones stay dead when they’ve bought it. I didn’t.”

Abruptly her face disappeared from the mirror. Too late, I remembered about her husband. I followed her into the bedroom. She was standing at the window looking out at San Francisco. I put my arms around her and turned her toward me.

“I didn’t mean that the way it sounded,” I said.

She placed her head against my chest. I could feel the moistness of her cheek against me. “Yes, you did,” she said in a soft voice. “You meant exactly what you said. And the terrible thing is that I understand it and can do nothing about it.”

“You’re doing fine,” I said. “You’re beautiful.”

Suddenly she was angry. She pulled away from me. “What’s the matter with you people?” she cried. “John was the same way. Can’t anyone, anything ever reach you? Don’t you have room for anything else inside you beside that crazy wish to destroy yourselves against some stupid wall?”

“Okay,” I said.

“Okay, what?” she snapped.

“I’ve already done that,” I said. “So what else is new?”

She stared at me for a moment, then, her anger dissolving, came back into my arms. I could feel her body trembling against me. “I’m sorry, Angelo,” she whispered. “I had no right to—”

I put a finger over her lips. “You have every right,” I said. “As long as you care enough.”

The Fan jet Falcon sat out on the airstrip among the 747’s and 707’s awaiting takeoff clearance like a sparrow among a covey of eagles. The pilot turned his head back to us. “We won’t be long. We’re number four on the line.”

I looked across the seat at John Duncan. His face was grim and tight. He didn’t like flying at all and when he saw this plane, he almost called a taxi.

I looked across him and smiled at Bobbie. “Comfortable, John?”

He didn’t smile. Small talk wasn’t going to make him like it any better. He didn’t say anything until we were positioned on the runway awaiting takeoff, then he looked over at me. “If it’s all right with you, Angelo,” he said, “I’ll come back by train.”

I laughed aloud. The years hadn’t changed him. Maybe his hair had gone a little thinner, but his hands and eyes were still quick and sure. He still looked the same man to me who fixed my car in the park over thirty years ago.

The plane set down on the factory airstrip. Tony Rourke was waiting for us. I introduced them.

He looked at us. “I’ve taken the liberty of booking you into a hotel near here,” he said. “I figure you’ll need at least two days to go over the plant completely.”

Two days turned out to be an understatement. We were there almost a week. And without John Duncan I would have been completely over my head. I began to understand why Number One had such faith in him. There wasn’t anything that escaped his attention. Even to the depth of the channel in the river leading to our docks in case we should ever want to bring in bigger freighters.

At the end of the week I sat with him in the hotel room with the plant blueprints in front of us. Bobbie put out drinks in front of us and went back into the bedroom. “What do you think?” I asked.

“It could do,” he said. “The main assembly plant would have to be enlarged considerably for maximum production-line efficiency, but there’s no reason why that can’t be done. There’s space enough. The pre-assembly buildings are positioned well and we wouldn’t have to build more than eighty thousand square feet more and it would be perfect. There’s only one thing bothering me.”

“What’s that?”

“Steel,” he said. “I don’t know the West Coast mills. They might not have the capacity to supply us, and if it had to be shipped from the East we’d be broke before we started. I’d be happier if we had our own mill. That was where GM and Ford consistently wiped us out. They were turning out cars while we waited for steel.”

“We’ll look into it,” I said. “Anything else?”

He shook his head. “Nothing I can think of at the moment.”

“Do you have any idea of what it would cost to convert the plant?”

“Without any idea of the kind of car we’re going to be building? No.”

“I understand Ford put up a new plant to build their new compact. Do you know how much they’re putting into it?”

“I hear a hundred million dollars.”

“Would we need that much?”

“Maybe,” he said. “I would like to put a cost engineering team on it. I don’t like guesswork.”

“How long would that take?”

“Three, four months.”

“Too long,” I said. “If we decide to go for this plant we have to make up our minds now. I can’t keep them on the string that long.”

“That’s up to you,” he said. He began to smile. “You remind me of Number One. He never could wait for the figures either.”

“Do you think it’s worth the six million Rourke’s asking for it?”

“Did you have it appraised?”

“Yes,” I answered. “Twice. One appraisal says ten million, the other, nine million six.”

“What’s Rourke planning to do with it when his contract is completed?”

“Sell it.”

“He’ll never find a buyer for the whole thing. He’ll have to parcel it out. It will take him forever.” He thought for a moment. “Depends on how hungry he is.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “He should be in good shape.”

“I’ve been wandering around the plant,” he said. “I’ve developed a lot of respect for him. He’d make a hell of a production man in the auto business if he were interested.”

“What are you saying?” I asked.

“Why don’t you try him that way?” he suggested shrewdly. “Two years with me and he’d be the best man in the business. And I’m not getting any younger.”

My appointment was for three o’clock. I walked into his office. I liked its look. No frills. It was a working office. From its windows he could see out on the plant.

He waved me to a chair. “Would you like a drink?”

“No thanks,” I said.

He lit a cigarette. “What do you think?”

“I think I could give you a long list of reasons why I’m not going to buy your plant,” I said. “But I don’t think it’s important, do you?”

He was silent for a moment. Then he nodded. “I agree with you. The reasons aren’t important.” He dragged on his cigarette. “In a way I’m kind of relieved. I practically built this place with my own two hands. It’s only right I should stick with it. A captain should go down with his own ship.”

“No,” I said. “That’s a romantic crock. Any smart captain finds himself another ship.”

“Where do I go?” he asked. “Back to work for Bell? Sikorsky? Forget it. I’ve been on my own too long. Besides the helicopter’s going nowhere. It’s too specialized.”

“Ever think about automobiles?” I asked. “They’re all over the place.”

“You got to be joking!” he said. “What the hell do I know about automobiles?”

“There’s not that much difference between building cars and planes,” I said. “Only with cars, you build a lot more of them.”

He fell silent.

“John Duncan says that in two years he can make you into the best man in the business,” I said. “And if you know that canny Scot the way I do, you wouldn’t take him lightly. If he thinks you can cut it, you can. That’s all there is to it.”

“But what do I do with this?” he asked, waving a hand at the windows.

“Sell it.”

“Who to? It would take me five years to get rid of this in bits and pieces.”

“I don’t mean the plant,” I said. “Sell your company.”

“Who’d buy it? A company that’s ready to go out of business? By the time the assets were liquidated, they’d be lucky if there was a million dollars left.”

“That’s exactly the figure I had in mind,” I said. “Providing you agree to come to work for us on a seven-year contract.”

He began to laugh and stuck out his hand. “You know, I think I’m going to enjoy working with you.”

I took his hand. “What makes you think that?”

“Because you’re such a prick,” he said.

“What are you complaining about?” I laughed. “I just made a millionaire out of you.”

“Who’s complaining?” he asked. He took a bottle from his lower drawer. “What’s the next step?”

I watched him pour the drinks. “John Duncan is already on his way back to Detroit to put together a survey cost engineering team. He’ll be back here within a week.”

“Fair enough,” he said, passing me a drink. “Now that you own the company, how about some operating cash? You have about two hundred thousand due the banks at the end of the month.”

“I’ve already sent your balance sheets to our accountants with instructions to move in and get things organized.”

“You seem to have thought of everything except one thing,” he said. “What do you want me to do while all this is going on?”

“You’re going out to buy us a steel mill,” I said. “One big enough to give us enough steel for at least two hundred and fifty thousand cars our first production year and close enough so that it doesn’t bankrupt us getting the steel here.” I tasted the drink. “And one other thing. Better lay in a stock of Canadian whiskey. You’re in the automobile business now.”