Kane and Abel/Sons of Fortune Read online

  Curtis Fenton laughed. (Only later that evening when he repeated the story to his wife did he decide that Abel Rosnovski had meant exactly what he had said—a Baron in Warsaw.)

  “Now, where do I stand with Kane’s bank?”

  The sudden change in Abel’s tone bothered Curtis Fenton. It worried him that Abel Rosnovski still clearly held William Kane responsible for Davis Leroy’s premature death. He opened the special file and started reading.

  “Lester, Kane and Company’s stock is divided among fourteen members of the Lester family and six past and present employees, while Mr. Kane himself is the largest stockholder with eight percent in his family trust.”

  “Are any of the Lester family willing to sell their stock?” inquired Abel.

  “Perhaps if we can offer the right price. Miss Susan Lester, the late Charles Lester’s daughter, has given us reason to believe she might consider parting with her stock, and Mr. Peter Parfitt, a former vice chairman of Lester’s, has also showed some interest in our approaches.”

  “What percentage do they hold?”

  “Susan Lester holds six percent. Peter Parfitt has only two percent.”

  “How much do they want?”

  Curtis Fenton looked down at his file again while Abel glanced at Lester’s latest annual report. His eyes came to a halt at Article Seven.

  “Miss Susan wants two million dollars for her six percent and Mr. Parfitt one million dollars for his two percent.”

  “Mr. Parfitt is greedy,” said Abel. “We will therefore wait until he is hungry. Buy Miss Susan Lester’s stock immediately without revealing whom you represent and keep me briefed on any change of heart by Mr. Parfitt.”

  Curtis Fenton coughed.

  “Is something bothering you, Mr. Fenton?” asked Abel.

  Curtis Fenton hesitated. “No, nothing,” he said unconvincingly.

  “Good, because I’m putting someone in overall charge of the account whom you will know or certainly know of—Henry Osborne.”

  “Congressman Osborne?” asked Curtis Fenton.

  “Yes—do you know him?”

  “Only by reputation,” said Fenton, with a faint note of disapproval, his head bowed.

  Abel ignored the implied comment. He was only too aware of Henry’s reputation, but he also had the ability to cut out all the middle men of bureaucracy and ensure quick political decisions, so Abel considered him a worthwhile risk. There was, in addition, the band of common loathing for Kane.

  “I’m also inviting Mr. Osborne to be a director of the Baron Group with special responsibility for the Kane account. This information must, as always, be treated in the strictest confidence.”

  “As you wish,” said Fenton unhappily, wondering if he should express his personal misgivings to Abel Rosnovski.

  “Brief me as soon as you have closed the deal with Miss Susan Lester.”

  “Yes, Mr. Rosnovski,” said Curtis Fenton without raising his head.

  Abel returned to the Baron for lunch, where Henry Osborne was waiting to join him.

  “Congressman,” said Abel as they met in the foyer.

  “Baron,” said Henry, and they laughed and went arm in arm into the dining room and sat at a corner table. Abel chastised a waiter because a button was missing from his tunic.

  “How’s your wife, Abel?”

  “Swell. And yours, Henry?”

  “Just great.” They were both lying.

  “Any news to report?”

  “Yes. That concession you needed in Atlanta has been taken care of,” said Henry in a conspiratorial voice. “The necessary documents will be pushed through sometime in the next few days. You’ll be able to start building the new Atlanta Baron around the first of the month.”

  “We’re not doing anything too illegal, are we?”

  “Nothing your competitors aren’t up to—that I can promise you, Abel.” Henry Osborne laughed.

  “I’m glad to hear that, Henry. I don’t want any trouble with the law.”

  “No, no,” said Henry. “Only you and I know all the facts.”

  “Good,” said Abel. “You’ve made yourself very useful to me over the years, Henry, and I have a little reward for your past services. How would you like to become a director of the Baron Group?”

  “I’d be flattered, Abel.”

  “Don’t give me that. You know you’ve been invaluable with those state and city building permits. I never have had time to deal with politicians and bureaucrats. In any case, Henry, they prefer to deal with a Harvard man—even if he doesn’t so much open doors as simply kick them down.”

  “You’ve been very generous in return, Abel.”

  “It’s no more than you’ve earned. Now, I want you to take on an even bigger job, which should be close to both our hearts. This little exercise will also require complete secrecy, but it shouldn’t take too much of your time while giving us some revenge on our mutual friend from Boston, Mr. William Kane.”

  The maître d’hotel arrived with two large sirloin steaks, medium rare. Henry listened intently as Abel unfolded his plans for William Kane.

  A few days later, on May 8, 1946, Abel traveled to New York to celebrate the first anniversary of V-E day. He had laid out a dinner for more than a thousand Polish veterans at the Baron Hotel and had invited General Kazimierz Sosnkowski, commander in chief of the Polish Forces in France after 1943, to be the guest of honor. Abel had looked forward impatiently to the event for weeks and took Florentyna with him to New York. Zaphia stayed behind in Chicago.

  On the night of the celebration, the banquet room of the New York Baron looked magnificent, each of the 120 tables decorated with the stars and stripes of America and the white, red and white of the Polish national flag. Huge photographs of Eisenhower, Patton, Bradley, Clark, Paderewski and Sikorsky festooned the walls. Abel sat at the center of the head table with the general on his right and Florentyna on his left.

  When General Sosnkowski rose to address the gathering, he announced that Lieutenant Colonel Rosnovski had been made a Life President of the Polish Veterans’ Society, in acknowledgment of the personal sacrifices he had made for the Polish-American cause, and in particular for his generous gift of use of the New York Baron throughout the entire duration of the war. Someone who had drunk a little too much shouted from the back of the room:

  “Those of us who survived the Germans had to survive Abel’s food as well.”

  The thousand veterans laughed and cheered, toasted Abel in Danzig vodka and then fell silent as the general talked of the plight of postwar Poland, in the grip of Stalinist Russia, urging his fellow expatriates to be tireless in their campaign to secure ultimate sovereignty for their native land. Abel wanted to believe that Poland could one day be free again and that he might even live to see his castle restored to him, but doubted if that would ever be possible after Stalin’s success at Yalta.

  The general went on to remind the guests that Polish-Americans had, per capita, sacrificed more lives and given more money to the war than any other single ethnic group in the United States. “ … how many Americans would believe that Poland lost six million of her countrymen while Czechoslovakia lost one hundred thousand? Some observers declare we were stupid not to surrender when we must have known we were beaten. How could a nation that staged a cavalry charge against the might of the Nazi tanks ever believe they were beaten? And, my friends, I tell you we are not beaten now.”

  Abel felt sad to think that most Americans would still laugh at the thought of the Polish war effort, or, funnier still, a Polish war hero. The general then told his intent audience the story of how Abel had led a band of men to rescue troops who had been killed or wounded at the battle of Remagen. When the general had finished his speech and sat down, the veterans stood and cheered the two men resoundingly. Florentyna was very proud of her father.

  Abel was surprised when the story hit the papers the next morning, because Polish achievements were rarely reported in any medium other than Dziennik Zwiazk