I liked Bill Dixon on sight. He was a short, heavily built man with a wide, easy smile. In spite of a few grey hairs, he didn’t look more than a few years older than myself.
‘I’ve heard all about you,’ he said, as we shook hands. ‘So F.B. is playing God again.’
‘That’s what it looks like.’
‘He played God with me. He had a flat in the pouring rain, and I stopped and changed the wheel. Now, I’m here.’ He laughed. ‘Do something for him, and he does something for you... a great guy.’ He raised a finger. ‘But make no mistake about it: he’s as tough as he is great. If you don’t deliver, or if you step out of turn, you’re out.’
He then told me about the bank.
‘You’d better come with me to Sharnville and meet Alec Manson who is going to run the bank. Here’s the blueprint. You’ll see the setup. Your job will be to supply all the office equipment, and Manson will tell you what he wants. Suppose we meet at the Excelsior Hotel tomorrow at Sharnville?’
When I got back to my bedsitter, I studied the blueprints. This wasn’t going to be a small bank. This was going to be a big, imposing bank. It ran to four storeys with underground vaults and safe deposit boxes.
This, I told myself, was a chance in a lifetime. I felt completely confident I could handle it.
I remembered my father.
A big fish in a little pond or a small fish in a big pond. Why not a big fish in a big pond?
I made my decision.
I had some five thousand dollars in the bank. I could live on that for some months. If Brannigan turned down my suggestions, I could still make a living.
So I called B. E. & C. and told the staff manager I was quitting. I didn’t bother to listen to what he was saying. I just hung up on him.
There was no doubt that Sharnville was an up and coming town. Buildings and office blocks were going up every-where.
I met Dixon at the Excelsior Hotel and he introduced me to Alec Manson, the future manager of the bank. He was in his early forties, tall, lean and remote, but we got along together. He seldom smiled, and didn’t appear to have any other interest except banking.
‘The ball’s now in your court, Mr. Lucas,’ he concluded after explaining the bank’s requirements, ‘We want the best, and it is up to you to provide the best.’
For the next four days, I didn’t move from my bedsitter. I had all the data I needed. My landlady provided me with meals, and by Saturday night I had the estimates and my suggestions down on paper for Brannigan, and had worked out a possible future for myself, always providing Brannigan was satisfied.
The next morning I was waiting outside the golf pro s shop as Farrell Brannigan drove up in his Caddy.
‘Hi, son,’ he said, beaming at me. ‘It’s going to be a fine day.’ He got his trolley and golf bag out of the trunk. ‘Come on, let’s get at it.’
The first nine holes developed into a golf lesson. Brannigan was eager to improve his game. He played off 18. His approach shots were pretty terrible as he was prone to under-club. I got that sorted out by the ninth hole. He was delighted with his driving and his putting certainly had sharpened up. He suggested I gave him a stroke a hole, and we would play real golf.
I wanted him to win this match, so from time to time I deliberately fluffed shots, and as we approached the eighteenth we were level pegging. He had a four-footer to roll in and I a fifteen-footer. I could have made the putt, but again I deliberately fluffed it and over-ran by two feet.
‘I think I’ve got you, son,’ he said, beaming, then shaped up for his putt. He took his time, and I began to sweat he would miss but he didn’t. The ball dropped, and he turned, grinning from ear to ear.
‘The best goddamn game I’ve ever played. Let’s go and get us a drink.’
I said all the right things, and he grinned even more.
Settled in a corner of the comfortable clubhouse bar, he ordered beers, lit a cigar, sat back and regarded me.
‘How’s it coming, Larry?’
‘Subject to your approval, sir,’ I said, ‘I’ve got it tied. I have the estimates and the list of computers, machines, calculators and so on with me.’
‘That’s fast work. Let me see.’
I took out the typewritten sheets and handed them to him. He went rapidly through the estimates, puffing at his cigar. I waited, sweating, until he reached the final sheet which told him what it would all cost. He didn’t bat an eyelid.
‘This looks fine, son,’ he said.
‘I think I should tell you, sir, I quit B. E. & C. last Monday. I’m now working on my own,’ I said.
He regarded me, looked at the estimates again, then grinned.
‘What it amounts to, son, is you’re planning to handle this deal yourself and collect commission on everything you sell us.’
‘That is correct, sir.’
‘A big fish in a big pond, huh?’
‘What you said about me wasting my time as a service mechanic struck a note.’
He laughed.
‘I’ll say.’ He finished his beer and stood up. ‘I’ve got to get back for lunch. Okay, Larry, leave this with me. We have a board tomorrow. I’ll get my man to look this over, talk to Manson and then talk with my directors. Where can you be reached?’
‘My address and telephone number are on the back of the estimate.’
‘Thanks for the game... best I’ve played.’ Then nodding, he left me.
I got the green light from Dixon after three hellish days in my bedsitter, waiting to hear.
‘You mean it’s on?’ I said, scarcely believing what he was saying.
‘They’ve okayed everything. I have a letter signed by F.B. authorizing you to buy on their behalf. Pick it up at my office tomorrow, and you’re in business.’ He paused, then went on, ‘Congratulations, Larry.’
It took me four weeks of non-stop work to get the bank equipment organized. Farrell Brannigan’s name acted as an open sesame. I.B.M., Apex and even B. E. & C. fell over themselves to give me credit. I had no problems. My commission, once the deal was finalized, would be impressive.
As soon as I had all the equipment for the bank ready for delivery, I moved to Sharnville. I took a two-room furnished apartment in a modest complex. Manson, Bill and I worked non-stop, and we made a good team.
One night, while Bill and I were sharing hamburgers together, he said, ‘What do you know about electronic security, Larry?’
‘What there is to know. I specialized in that at the university.’
‘I think F.B. will let you install the security if you can convince him. He’s rather like a big kid so make your ideas fancy. Really give him the works... money no object.’
So that was my next job. I got estimates, suggestions and consulted the top experts. By the time I was through and got my ideas on paper, I was sure I could give the bank the finest security gimmicks that could be put together.
Brannigan called me.
‘Bill says you have security ideas, son. I’d like to hear about them. Let’s play golf.’
After the game, and this time I didn’t let him beat me, but made it a close run thing, we sat in the clubhouse bar and I told him about my ideas.
‘Mr. Brannigan,’ I concluded, ‘if you accept this equipment, I will guarantee you will never have security trouble. Your bank in Sharnville will be the safest bank in the world.’
He stared at me, and his face lit up.
‘The safest bank in the world!’ he exclaimed, then slammed his fist into the palm of his hand. ‘The safest bank in the world! I like that. By God! I like that! We could use that as a slogan! The safest bank in the world! That’s really something. We’ll hit the headlines!’ Then he paused and looked hard at me. ‘That’s no idle boast, son? If we advertised, and really went to town with a slogan like that, would it stand up?’