“What makes you think I think of you at all?” Villiers inquired, breathing evenly.
“-but don’t forget I know you pretty well. I make allowances because, hell, a few years ago you could hardly spell Manhattan, and now you’re close to owning it. I’m not such a hypocrite I won’t admit I’m greedy. Okay, so your star’s rising, and I hitched my wagon to it. But this time you’re getting tense, I can feel it myself, and a tense man makes mistakes. Now, you can go ahead and sling insults at me, because I’m used to that, but when it comes to legal counsel, you’re going to pay attention to me. That’s what you pay me for, and I do a good job of it. Now, in this Melbard thing you’ve got ideas fixed in your head and you think you don’t give a damn what I think. But I’m telling you for the good of both of us. You’re taking a plunge in this thing without even knowing if there’s water in the pool. You’re too rigid, Mace-too stubborn. It’s your great weakness. The inflexible man is always easiest to defeat. Look, the world is not a candy store. You’ve run into a dead end on this one, and I’m telling you to back out and find another way around.”
Villiers had waited him out. Now he said, “A little more of that, Sidney, and you could be ending a promising career.”
“Mine-or yours? Do you think I’m talking for the pleasure of hearing my own voice?”
“You are cram up to here with principles you haven’t earned, Sidney-you’re a snobbish prig. I told you to keep a rein on that conscience of yours.”
“You just don’t listen, do you? I’m not talking about conscience. I’m talking about a stone wall you’re up against. You won’t budge Arthur Rademacher. Certainly not with bribes, and I doubt you’ll find anything in his past strong enough to use for blackmail. He’s a crusty old son of a bitch, but he’s a powerful man-he’s a pillar of society, sits on half a dozen corporate boards. God knows he doesn’t need your money. To budge him you’d have to start talking in seven-figure sums, which is ridiculous. You haven’t got it, and it wouldn’t be worth it even if you did.”
“You’re wrong. It might.”
“For Melbard Chemical? Who are you kidding? The whole organization isn’t worth fifteen million at the outside.”
“It is to me.”
“I don’t believe it.”
Villiers gave him a long scrutiny. Sidney Isher sat coiled like a taut-wound watch spring. His eyelid fluttered. Villiers said, “I’ve got to have control of Melbard before NCI starts thinking about bidding against me. Understand? Your mandate is clear and simple-go thou and keep piling the chips on the table in front of Arthur Rademacher until he comes across. I don’t care what it takes.”
“Sometimes chutzpah isn’t enough, Mace. And-”
The door opened, and George Hackman came in beaming. Isher broke off and directed a resentful stare at him. Hackman’s red face streamed with sweat, but he grinned with triumphant self-satisfaction. “The top of the fucking morning to you both,” he said, and slapped down a briefcase violently on the corner of the desk nearest Villiers. “Help yourself. Merry Christmas.”
Villiers waited for him to sit down before he said, “What is it?”
“Colonel Butler’s signature on all five copies. I caught him at the airport. He had a few words to say, but he signed.”
Villiers opened the briefcase and had a look through the contracts. George Hackman was laughing. “Son of a bitch nearly dropped his pants. He thought it was going to be weeks before we’d have the papers ready. It never occurred to the stupid bastard we had the papers all typed up and ready for his signature before he even heard about the deal.”
“Satisfactory,” Villiers muttered, making a neat stack of the contracts and dropping it on the desk. “But it shortens your deadline, Sidney. I’m buying Colonel Butler out with Melbard stock, and I don’t own any Melbard stock. Until you get it for me.”
“I told you you were moving too fast.”
“Nuts. Just do it-quit whining.”
Hackman was punching up the Quotron, reading its market announcements. He looked at his watch and grunted. “Good enough. The Dow Jones is up three points over yesterday’s close-market index up eight cents.”
Villiers said, “Never mind that. I want the two of you to look around for a man to put in nominal charge of Heggins Aircraft-somebody with an air of respectability who can be controlled. We’ll have to juice up their accounting, they haven’t been depreciating things fast enough. We’ll put out a slick report with plenty of expensive artwork. The first thing for the new administration to do is shave the operating costs-I want all superfluous personnel fired, particularly at the management level. The company’s topheavy with Butler’s retired Air Force cronies and sixty-year-old executives. I’ll spend the weekend going over the books, and by next week I’ll have a set of goals mapped out for the next quarter. One thing I know already-Heggins has a fleet of repossessed obsolescent cargo planes in mothballs in the desert down in Arizona. I want those planes fixed and sold-there are plenty of markets in the Middle East and South America. I want Heggins’ balance sheet to be in the black by the end of the year, with or without government contracts.”
Sidney Isher said, frowning, “You sound as if you want to keep Heggins operating. I thought you planned to strip it.”
Villiers shook his head. “The company’s no good to me dead. One thing our new management will have to do right away. Heggins has been paying rent to one of its own subsidiaries for the use of runways and test-flight ranges in Nevada. One of Butler’s cute ideas-the rent boosted Heggins’ operating expenses and cut its earnings, so Butler could defend his applications for higher government research fees. He never applied the subsidiary’s dividends against Heggins’ operating costs-he allotted them all to stockholders, and he’s the principal stockholder outside of Heggins itself. I don’t want the money going into Butler’s pockets. Heggins will have to buy back the runways and close down the subsidiary. That way we’ll increase the assets on the books and cut the operating expenses. It should show a big rise in paper profits by the end of the year, and that’s what we’ve got to have-the appearance of strength in the company.”
Sidney Isher said, “Mind telling us why?”
“My reasons are complex, and there’s no need to go into them all. I might just mention one item. Certain parties have been selling Heggins stock short in big bundles. If we can improve Heggins’ image in the market, the price will go up and the short-sellers will be caught in a tight bind, which is exactly where I want them to be.”
“Who are they?”
“Does it matter? They’re people I mean to squeeze, Sidney. That’s all you need to know.”
The lawyer did not bother to conceal his resentment. Villiers stood up, ready to leave; he said to Hackman, “Any word from the Wyatt kid?”
“Not yet.”
“He may need to be leaned on.”
“Just let me know,” Hackman said.
Villiers glanced at Sidney Isher, who did not meet his eyes, and left the office. He felt very good-taut, alive, expectant, the way he used to feel at fifteen when he was lining up a particularly complex and tricky shot on the green felt of a pool table. He gave the English girl his handsome smile on his way out.
13. Russell Hastings