“We’ve had a couple of feelers for a takeover. It would mean one hell of a lot of money for our remaining stock.”
“Whatever you think is best, just don’t commit me to an employment contract. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to concentrate on business again.”
“I understand,” Ben replied.
“I’ll call you from down there whenever I get a chance.”
“Good. I’ll let you know whether there’s anything important in the mail.”
Cat saw his lawyer and made a new will, leaving everything to Jinx, if she was still alive, a large bequest to his alma mater, and the rest to Ben, if Jinx was found dead. He specifically excluded his son from any inheritance.
On his way home from his lawyer’s office he stopped at a camera store and bought a solidly built aluminum camera case, with combination locks, the size and shape of a large briefcase. At home, he cut a newspaper into a hundred small pieces, measured them, and made some calculations. He was surprised at the result. He called his stockbroker and gave him a sell order and some brief, firm instructions, then called the head office of his bank and asked to speak to the president.
“Mr. Avery’s office,” a secretary said.
“My name is Wendell Catledge. I’d like to speak with Mr. Avery,” Cat said.
“What is this about, sir? Does Mr. Avery know you?”
“I’ll discuss that with Mr. Avery. We’ve never met.”
The secretary became officious. “I’m afraid Mr. Avery is in a meeting. If you’ll leave your number...”
“I have a business account with the bank. The company name is Printtech. Please go and tell Mr. Avery that Wendell Catledge wishes to speak with him at once.”
“I’m very sorry, but...”
“Please don’t make it necessary for me to come to his office.”
There was a short silence. “Please hold,” she said, exasperated.
There was a longer silence, then a man’s voice. “Mr. Catledge? Cat Catledge?” The man had been reading his Fortune and Forbes. “I’m sorry you were kept waiting. How can I be of service?”
Cat identified himself with the Printtech account number and his personal account number. He told the banker how he could be of service, explaining that the man could verify his instructions by calling him at the home number listed on his account records.
The man was uncomfortable. “May I ask... you understand, Mr. Catledge, that by law this sort of transaction has to be reported to the federal government.”
“I quite understand. I’ll be at your office at eleven tomorrow.”
The banker was still balking. “This sort of thing takes time, you know.”
“Mr. Avery,” Cat said, becoming exasperated himself, “you have nearly twenty-four hours. All I really want to do is cash a check. I’ll be at your office at eleven tomorrow morning.”
“Yes, sir,” the banker said.
Promptly at eleven the following morning, Cat presented himself at the bank. Avery took him into his office, then into an adjoining conference room. Another bank officer and a uniformed security guard were standing at the end of the table.
In the middle of the table was a stack of money.
“Twenty thousand hundred-dollar bills,” Avery said, still sounding doubtful, “banded into bundles of five hundred, as you requested. Do you wish to count it?”
“No,” Cat replied.
“There are some papers to sign.”
Cat placed his aluminum briefcase on the table and opened it. “Please put the money into this case while I sign the papers,” he said to the guard. Avery nodded and the guard began to pack the money.
Avery shoved some papers toward him. “First, please sign a check for two million dollars,” he said.
Cat signed the check.
“Then, I have prepared a release of all liability on the part of the bank. We don’t usually transact business this way, as you can understand.”
Cat signed the release. He noticed that the money fit nicely into the case, with a little room to spare. He had calculated correctly.
“That’s all in order, then,” Avery said. “I’d like our guard to walk you to your car. This is not the safest of neighborhoods, you know.”
“Thank you,” Cat said. “And thank you for doing this so quickly.”
Avery walked him to the door. “Mr. Catledge, if you’re in some sort of difficulty, I’ll do anything I can to help,” he said earnestly.
“Thank you, Mr. Avery,” Cat smiled, “but it’s nothing like that. I just have to do some business in a place where ordinary banking facilities aren’t available. Please don’t concern yourself further.”
The guard walked him to his car, looking nervously about them. Cat thought he might have been less conspicuous alone. When he walked into the house the phone was ringing.
“Hello?”
“It’s Bluey. We’re on for tomorrow morning. You all squared away?”
“I think so. I’ve just got to pack. What will I need?”
“Summer clothes for everywhere except Bogotá, if we end up there. Bogotá is at better than eight thousand feet of elevation, cool and rainy. A raincoat will be heavy enough. Bring a business suit, in case we have to impress somebody.”
“Okay. Anything else?”
“You own a gun?”
“No.”
“Buy one. Buy one for me, too, come to think of it. Get me a .357 magnum with about a four-inch barrel and a shoulder holster. Get yourself whatever suits you.”
Cat felt a little queasy at the thought of firearms. He had been shot with the last weapon he had owned. “You really think I ought to be armed?” he asked.
“Too bloody right. I’d take a bazooka if I could get it in a shoulder holster.”
Cat went to the gun shop where he had bought the little shotgun for the yacht. The place was a wonderland of death, with every conceivable sort of weapon. He picked out a magnum for Bluey, but balked when choosing something for himself. The only handgun he had ever fired was the .45 automatic the Marines had given him, although he had fired Expert with the pistol and a carbine. He didn’t want anything as big as Bluey’s magnum, and finally he accepted the salesman’s recommendation of a very expensive Hechler & Koch 9-millimeter automatic pistol, because it was light and held a fifteen-round magazine. He bought the appropriate shoulder holsters and a box each of ammunition and left the shop with everything in a brown shopping bag, feeling foolish.
• • •
By seven in the morning they had the airplane loaded, and Cat followed Bluey around the aircraft, learning the preflight inspection.
“You been taking lessons, huh?” Bluey asked. “How many hours you got?”
“About sixty. I was supposed to take my check ride for my private license a couple of weeks ago, but all this got in the way.”
Bluey nodded. “Okay, you fly her. Let’s see how good you are.”
“What?”
Bluey shoved him into the left seat and climbed in beside him. “It’s not all that different from the trainer you learned in. You’ve got a couple extra knobs, that’s all, for the landing gear and the constant-speed propeller. Anyway, I’m the hottest instructor who ever came down the pike.”
Cat shrugged. “Well, I guess my student license is good.” He buckled in and, with Bluey reading the checklist and pointing at things, got the engine started. The tower wasn’t open yet, so they checked the wind sock and taxied to the runway. Bluey announced their departure on the Common Traffic Advisory Frequency and nodded. “We’re off. Full throttle.”
Cat shoved the throttle all the way in and marveled at how the airplane accelerated, compared to the less powerful one he had been flying. As instructed, at sixty knots of airspeed he pulled back on the yoke and the craft rose into the air.