Kane and Abel/Sons of Fortune Read online

  Su Ling continued to study the posted names as they walked toward each gate. “Singapore, Manila, Hong Kong?”

  “No, no, and no,” he repeated as they passed gates eleven, twelve and thirteen.

  Su Ling remained silent as they continued on—Bangkok, Zurich, Paris, London, before Nat came to a halt at gate twenty-one.

  “Are you traveling to Rome and Venice with us, sir?” asked the lady behind the Pan Am desk.

  “Yes,” said Nat. “The tickets are booked in the name of Mr. and Mrs. Cartwright,” he said as he turned to face his wife.

  “You know something, Mr. Cartwright,” Su Ling said, “you are a very special man.”

  Over the next four weekends Annie lost count of the number of potential homes the two of them viewed. A few were too large, some too small, while others were in a district they didn’t want to live in, and when they were in a neighborhood they liked, they simply couldn’t afford the asking price, even with Alexander Dupont & Bell’s assistance. Then one Sunday afternoon, they found exactly what they were looking for in Ridgewood, and within ten minutes of walking in the front door they had nodded to each other behind the agent’s back. Annie immediately phoned her mother. “It’s absolutely ideal,” she enthused. “It’s in a quiet neighborhood with more churches than bars, more schools than movie houses and it’s even got a river meandering right through the center of town.”

  “And the price?” said Martha.

  “A little more than we wanted to pay, but the realtor is expecting a call from my agent Martha Gates; if you can’t get the price down, Mom, I don’t know anyone who can.”

  “Did you follow my instructions?” asked Martha.

  “To the letter. I told the agent we were both schoolteachers, because you said they always hike the price for lawyers, bankers and doctors. He looked suitably disappointed.”

  Fletcher and Annie spent the afternoon strolling around the town, praying that Martha could get them a sensible deal, because even the station was only a short drive from their front door.

  After four long weeks finalizing the deal, Fletcher, Annie and Lucy Davenport spent their first night at their new home in Ridgewood, New Jersey on October 1, 1974. No sooner had they closed the front door than Fletcher announced, “Do you think you can leave Lucy with your mother for a couple of weeks?”

  “It doesn’t worry me having her around while we’re getting the house in shape,” said Annie.

  “That wasn’t what I had in mind,” said Fletcher. “I just thought it was time we had a holiday, a sort of second honeymoon.”

  “But …”

  “No buts … we’re going to do something you’ve always talked about—go to Scotland and trace our ancestors, the Davenports and the Gateses.”

  “When were you thinking of leaving?” asked Annie.

  “Our plane takes off at eleven tomorrow morning.”

  “Mr. Davenport, you do like to give a girl a lot of notice, don’t you?”

  “What are you up to?” asked Su Ling as she leaned across to watch her husband checking over a column of figures on the financial pages of the Asian Business News.

  “Studying currency movements over the past year,” Nat replied.

  “Is that how Japan fits into the equation?” inquired Su Ling.

  “Sure is,” said Nat, “because the yen is the only major currency in the past ten years that has consistently risen in value against the dollar, and several economists are predicting that the trend will continue for the foreseeable future. They claim the yen is still massively undervalued. If the experts are correct, and you’re right about Japan’s expanding role in new technology, then I think I’ve identified a good investment in an uncertain world.”

  “Is this to be the subject of your business school thesis?”

  “No; however that’s not a bad idea,” said Nat. “I was thinking of making a small currency investment and if I prove to be right, I’ll notch it up a few dollars each month.”

  “A bit of a risk, isn’t it?”

  “If you hope to make a profit, there’s bound to be a certain amount of risk involved. The secret is to eliminate the elements that add to that risk.” Su Ling didn’t look convinced. “I’ll tell you what I have in mind,” said Nat. “I’m currently earning $400 a month as a captain in the army. If I sell those dollars a year in advance for yen at today’s rate, then convert them back in twelve months’ time, and if the dollar-yen exchange rate continues as it has done for the past seven years, I should make an annual profit of around $400 to $500.”

  “And if it goes the other way?” said Su Ling.

  “But it hasn’t for the past seven years.”

  “But if it did?”

  “I’d lose around $400, or a month’s salary.”

  “I’d rather have a guaranteed paycheck each month.”

  “You can never create capital on earned income,” said Nat. “Most people live well beyond their means, and their only form of savings ends up as life insurance or bonds, both of which can be decimated by inflation. Ask my father.”

  “But what do we need all this money for?” asked Su Ling.

  “For my lovers,” said Nat.

  “And where are all these lovers?”

  “Most of them are in Italy, but there are a few others hanging around in the world’s major capitals.”

  “So that’s why we’re going to Venice?”

  “And Florence, Milan and Rome. When I left them, many were in the nude, and one of the things I most liked about them is they don’t age, other than to crack a little if they’re exposed to too much sunlight.”

  “Lucky women,” said Su Ling. “And do you have a favorite?”

  “No, I’m fairly promiscuous, though if I were forced to choose, I confess there is a lady in Florence who resides in a small palace, whom I adore, and am longing to meet up with again.”

  “Is she a virgin, by any chance?” inquired Su Ling.

  “You’re bright,” said Nat.

  “Goes by the name of Maria?”

  “You’ve found me out, although there are a lot of Marias in Italy.”

  “The Adoration of the Magi, Tintoretto.”

  “No.”

  “Bellini, Mother and Child?”

  “No, they still reside at the Vatican.”

  Su Ling went silent for a moment as the stewardess asked them to fasten their seatbelts. “Caravaggio?”

  “Very good. I left her in the Pitti Palace on the right-hand wall of the third-floor gallery. She promised she would be faithful until I returned.”

  “And there she will remain, because such a lover would cost you more than $400 a month, and if you’re still hoping to go into politics, you won’t even be able to afford the frame.”

  “I won’t be going into politics until I can afford the whole gallery,” Nat assured his wife.

  Annie began to appreciate why the British could be so dismissive about American tourists who somehow managed to cover London, Oxford, Blenheim and Stratford in three days. It didn’t help when she observed busloads of tourists descending on the Royal Shakespeare Theatre in Stratford, take their seats, and then leave during the intermission, to be replaced by another busload of her countrymen. Annie wouldn’t have thought it possible, if she hadn’t returned after the intermission to find the two rows in front of her full of people with familiar accents whom she had never seen before. She wondered if those who attended the second act told those who watched the first act what had happened to Rosencrantz and Guildenstern or was that busload already on its way back to London?

  Annie felt less guilty after they’d spent a leisurely ten days in Scotland. They enjoyed being in Edinburgh for the Festival, where they could choose between Marlowe and Mozart, or Pinter and Orton. However, for both of them, the highlight of the trip was the long drive up and down the two coastlines. The scenery was so breathtaking they thought there could be no more beautiful landscape on earth.

  In Edinburgh, they tried to trace the Ga