Kane & Abel (1979) Read online

  Abel asked Zaphia to come out with him again on Saturday night, but she was working the evening shift. However, he managed to accompany her to church on Sunday morning, and listened with mingled nostalgia and exasperation to the Polish priest intoning the unforgettable words of the Mass and delivering a sermon on chastity. It was the first time Abel had been in a church since his days at the castle. At that time he had yet to experience the cruelty that now made it impossible for him to believe in a benevolent deity. His reward for attending church came when Zaphia allowed him to hold her hand as they walked back to the hotel.

  ‘Have you thought any more about the position at the Stevens?’ she asked.

  ‘I have a meeting that will decide things tomorrow.’

  ‘Oh, I’m so glad, Abel. I’m sure you’d make a very good assistant manager.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Abel, realizing they had been talking about different things.

  ‘Would you like to have supper with me and my cousins tonight?’ Zaphia asked. ‘I always spend Sunday evening with them.’

  ‘Yes, I’d like that very much.’

  Zaphia’s cousins lived in the heart of the Polish community. They were very impressed when she arrived accompanied by a friend who drove a new Buick. The family, as Zaphia called them, consisted of two sisters, Katya and Janina, and Katya’s husband, Janek. Abel presented the sisters with a bunch of roses, and answered all their questions about his future prospects in fluent Polish. Zaphia was obviously embarrassed, but Abel knew the same would be required of any young man who visited a Polish-American household for the first time. Aware of the envy in Janek’s eyes, he made an effort to play down his progress since his early days at the meat packers’. Katya served a simple Polish meal of pierogi and bigos, which Abel would have eaten with a good deal more relish fifteen years ago. He ignored Janek, and concentrated on the sisters. Perhaps they approved of the pimply youth.

  On their way back to the Stevens Zaphia asked, with a flash of the coquettishness he remembered, if it was considered safe to drive a motor car and hold a lady’s hand at the same time. Abel laughed and put his hand back on the steering wheel.

  ‘Will you have time to see me tomorrow?’ he asked.

  ‘I hope so, Abel,’ she said. ‘Perhaps by then you’ll be my boss.’

  He smiled to himself as he watched her go through the back door, wondering how Zaphia would feel if she knew the real consequences of tomorrow’s meeting. He did not move until she had disappeared through the service entrance.

  Assistant manager,’ he mused, laughing out loud as he climbed into bed and threw his pillow on the floor.

  Abel woke a few minutes before five the following morning. It was still dark outside when he called for an early edition of the Tribune. He went through the motions of reading the financial section before getting dressed, and strolled into the breakfast room when it opened at seven o’clock. Zaphia was not on duty that morning, but the pimply boyfriend was, which Abel took to be a bad omen. After breakfast he returned to his room and paced around as he waited for the minutes to pass. He checked his tie in the mirror for the twentieth time, and once again looked at his watch. He estimated that if he walked very slowly, he would arrive at the bank as its doors were opening. In fact he was five minutes early, and had to walk once around the block, looking pointlessly into store windows at expensive jewellery, radios and hand-tailored suits. Would he ever be able to afford a hand-tailored suit, he wondered. He arrived back at the bank at four minutes past ten.

  ‘Mr Fenton is taking a long distance call at the moment,’ the secretary informed Abel. ‘Can you come back in half an hour, or would you prefer to wait?’

  ‘I’ll come back,’ said Abel, not wishing to appear overanxious.

  It was the longest thirty minutes he could remember since he’d boarded the train to Moscow. He studied every shop window on La Salle Street, even the women’s clothes, which only made him think of Zaphia.

  On his return to the Continental Trust the secretary quickly ushered him into Fenton’s office. He didn’t want to shake hands with the manager because his own hands were sweating.

  ‘Good morning, Mr Rosnovski. Do have a seat.’

  Curtis Fenton took a file out of his desk drawer. Abel could see the word ‘Confidential’ written across the cover.

  ‘Now,’ Fenton began, ‘I hope you’ll find my news agreeable. The principal concerned is willing to go ahead with the purchase of the hotels.’

  ‘I don’t believe it,’ said Abel.

  ‘You haven’t heard the terms yet.’ Fenton looked at Abel and smiled. ‘But I think you’ll find them favourable. The principal will put up the full two million dollars required to clear Mr Leroy’s debt, and at the same time he will form a new company in which the shares will be split sixty per cent to him, and forty per cent to you. Your forty per cent is therefore valued at eight hundred thousand dollars, which will be treated as a loan by the new company, that will be made for a term not to exceed ten years, at four per cent interest, which can be paid off from the company profits. That is to say, if the company makes a profit of one hundred thousand dollars in any given year, forty thousand dollars of that profit would be set against your eight hundred thousand debt, plus the four per cent interest. If you clear the loan in under ten years, you’ll be given a one-time option of buying the remaining sixty per cent of the company for a further three million dollars. That would give my client a first-class return on his investment, and you the opportunity to own the Richmond Group outright.’

  Abel wanted to leap out of his chair, but sat still, allowing Mr Fenton to continue. ‘In addition to this, you will receive a salary of five thousand dollars per annum, and your position as president of the group will give you complete day-to-day control of the company. You will be asked to refer to me only on matters concerning finance. I have been entrusted with the task of reporting directly to your principal, and he has asked me to represent his interests on the board of the new Richmond Group. I am happy to comply with this only if it is acceptable to you. My client wishes to stress that he does not wish to be personally involved. As I have mentioned, there might be a conflict of interests for him if his colleagues were to become aware of his involvement, which I am sure you will understand. He also insists that you will at no time make any attempt to discover his identity. He will give you fourteen days to consider his terms, on which there can be no negotiation, as he considers - and I must say I agree with him - that his terms are fair.’

  Abel could not speak.

  ‘Pray do say something, Mr Rosnovski.’

  ‘I don’t need fourteen days to make a decision,’ Abel finally managed to say. ‘I accept your client’s terms without discussion. Please thank him, and tell him I will of course respect his request for anonymity and am delighted that you will be representing him on the board.’

  ‘That’s splendid,’ said Fenton, permitting himself a rare smile. ‘Now, a few minor points. The bank accounts for all the hotels in the group will be lodged with Continental Trust affiliates, and the main account will remain in this office under my direct control. I will receive one thousand dollars a year as a director of the new company.’

  ‘I’m glad you’re going to get something out of the deal,’ said Abel, with a grin.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘I’m pleased to be working with you, Mr Fenton.’

  ‘Your principal has also placed two hundred and fifty thousand dollars on deposit with the bank, to be used for the day-to-day expenses of the hotels over the next few months. This will also be regarded as a loan at four per cent. You are to advise me if this amount turns out to be insufficient. However, I believe it would enhance your standing with my client if you found the two hundred and fifty thousand to be enough.’

  ‘It’s more than enough,’ said Abel.

  ‘Excellent,’ said Fenton as he opened a desk drawer and produced a large Cuban cigar.

  ‘Do you smoke?’

  ‘Yes