Aces and Knaves

Chapter 26 HOMEBOYS

The building with the Tartan Enterprises logo on it was up the hill from Market Street. I wondered whether Tartan owned the building or was just the major lessee. If James considered San Francisco real estate to be a good investment, I knew he'd be in it. Tartan occupied the highest floors of the building, a dubious perk in a city that had been ravaged by strong earthquakes as recently as 1989.

The first thing I discovered upon exiting the elevator was that Tartan actually had some female employees, including the efficient receptionist who greeted me. In addition to assisting walk-in visitors, she answered telephone calls and pounded on a computer keyboard at something approaching the speed of light.

When I told her I had an appointment with Mr. Buchanan she called his suite and then directed me to a private elevator, not available to ordinary mortals. It whisked me to the top floor of the building, where I was greeted by Stan.

"It's great to see you, Karl," he said, shaking my hand. "Did you have a good flight up?"

He was dressed in a dark suit, similar to what James' assistants wore at the casino, and I was glad I had worn my one and only suit for the occasion.

I resisted the impulse to voice one of several retorts that came to me and merely said, "Marvelous flight. You're looking very professional today."

Stan led the way into by far the largest office I have ever seen. It was in the northeast corner of the building and the two outside walls were solid glass. The view encompassed both the Golden Gate Bridge and the Oakland Bay Bridge, as well as part of the San Francisco skyline and many other points of interest.

James was sitting at a gargantuan desk, talking on the telephone. He wore a sport shirt, unbuttoned down to his chest hair. Executive privilege.

He hung up the phone, trekked around the desk and shook my hand, saying, "Karl! You're looking good for a Monday morning. Thank you, Stan. I'll call you if I need you."

Thus summarily dismissed, Stan exited the office, but not before stealing a backward glance at us. I suspect he wanted to be in on the kill.

"You haven't seen our quarters here, have you?" James asked, and then before I could reply he started taking me around his office, pointing out the view in each direction, of which he seemed to be inordinately proud. When he finished he said, "Not bad for a boy who grew up in Wick, eh?" and looked at me for my reaction.

I said, "Aren't you afraid of going through the window?"

Not only was the glass floor-to-ceiling, but it actually slanted outward at the top.

James took a few steps back from the wall and ran limping at it, while I held my breath. He crashed into the window and I fully expected to see him disappear in a shower of broken glass and fall to the street below. However, he bounced back, grinning.

"Satisfied?"

"Don't try this at home."

"Actually, it's more dangerous to get out of your bathtub at home."

James waved me to a chair facing the glass wall and sat in a chair at a 45-degree angle to it. One of his male assistants brought us drinks without being asked, the clear drink that I had seen James with before and an iced tea for me. I must be in the database now.

When we were settled, James said, "First, tell me about your trip to the UK."

Taken aback by his brazenness, I was stuck for an answer. I half-stuttered, "You probably know more about it than I do."

James laughed, almost choking on his drink. He said, "You've got to warn me when you're going to tell a joke. Look, Karl, I didn't get where I am today by beating around the beaver. Did Michael tell you he was working with me?"

"No, but I figured it out. And I assume you had something to do with the hoodlum in Hyde Park."

James frowned. "Michael assured me he was dependable. That's what happens when you delegate. I understand he botched the job. He wasn't supposed to get rough. I hope you and Arrow didn't get badly hurt." He looked at the bruise on my cheek, still evident, as if spotting it for the first time. "But I heard you sent him away screaming."

"Arrow did."

"That girl's got more balls than any of the testosterone-challenged boys on my staff. It's too bad she's a…girl. I'd love to have her work for me."

"I'll tell her that. But I want you to promise me that no harm will come to Seamus."

"Oh, Seamus is safe enough from me. There's no point in locking the barn door after the manure is gone. I assume he told you bad things about me in connection with the Dickie Stewart incident."

"They weren't complimentary."

"There was never any love lost between Seamus and me. But you can't believe everything he tells you-just as you can't believe everything Michael tells you."

I saw no point in going into the details of what either one had told me so I kept quiet.

"Next topic," James said. "I understand you got your baseball card."

"I haven't actually received it yet, but I expect to soon. But I want to talk to you about that. Since I can't afford it, why don't we turn around and resell it."

"It's your card so your decision. But I suspect that you won't get your money back with too quick a sale. It's got to age for a while, like fine wine. And as far as what you owe me, that's easily settled. All I need from you is one little favor."

I had walked into his parlor and was entangled in his web, so what could I do but listen?

James appeared to gather his thoughts and then said, "If I have any investment philosophy it's to stay flexible. The approach I take varies from company to company. With some companies, I'm content to take a minority interest. In other cases I've purchased a controlling interest in a privately held company. The trickiest thing to do is to acquire a controlling interest in a publicly-held corporation because you usually have to battle management."

"Why would you want to do that?" I asked.

"There are companies with untapped potential. For example, they might have products that aren't being marketed properly. Profits could be greatly increased with the proper management. But when management is the problem, naturally the managers object to being replaced. That's why it's necessary to gain control of the company."

"And you feel that Dionysus is one of these companies." Isn't that what he was leading up to?

"Nothing against your father or Ned, God rest his soul." James sipped his drink through a straw and looked out at the ant-like cars crawling over the Bay Bridge. "As you know, I've known Ned all my life. I took an interest in Dionysus at the time Richard brought Ned into the company and I've watched it ever since.

"I never invested in Dionysus because I wanted to stay at arms-length from Ned, for personal reasons. But he and Richard did a brilliant job of growing the company. However, recently I felt they missed some bets."

"Is that when you started buying Dionysus stock?"

"Yes. Once they began to make mistakes, any obligation I had to Ned to stay out of his life ended. In the corporate world, management has a responsibility to increase value for the shareholders. If I can do it better than the current management, then the shareholders benefit if I take over the company."

"If," I said, marveling at his hubris. "But who's to decide if you're the knight in shining armor who is going to save the company?"

"The shareholders. By voting either for me or the current management."

"If you take over Dionysus, what is going to happen to my father, uh, Richard?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

"Richard has had a good run. The package he would get would put him on Easy Street. His stock would be worth more because I would pay him a premium over the market for his shares. He would be able to recover his health without the stress of business to worry about. He would live a good life. I think his new wife…"

"Jacie."

"Jacie would appreciate it too. They would have more time together. They could travel…"

"Sail off into the sunset. What about the other employees?"

"We'll need all of them to keep Dionysus growing."

"Including Arrow?"

"Including Arrow. I've got big plans for her, believe it or not."

I took a rain check on that one. "Okay, where do I fit into this?"

James leaned forward in his chair and looked me in the eye. He had an unblinking stare that was hard for me to meet, the mesmerizing stare of the predator before it strikes.

He said, "As you know, Richard opposes my takeover of Dionysus. However, even though he's your father you can rationalize letting me take over because it's for his own good. But without the votes of the stock he controls, there is only one way I can do it. I need to have Elma's proxy."

Suddenly, there wasn't enough air in the room. I abruptly rose and walked around, trying to get my breathing under control. I walked back to my chair, but I didn't sit down.

James watched me but he didn't move. He said, "Two weeks ago I thought I had her proxy nailed down. Then you and Arrow went on your pilgrimage and now I find that she has defected-or at the least is seriously wavering. Your job is to get her back in my camp. For reasons we've already gone over, this won't make you a traitor to Richard."

My brain was spinning, but I had sense enough to think of one thing. "If you can't convince her, how can I? She used to be your girlfriend…"

"We know each other too well. And we know how far we can trust each other. I need the intervention of a third person to plead my case. You have more credibility than anybody with her, except perhaps Arrow. And I don't…"

He stopped, but I could imagine the rest of the sentence: "I don't have anything to hold over Arrow at the moment."

I tried again. "You're a sporting man, James. Let me play blackjack for my freedom. If I don't increase my initial stake by ten times, I'll help you with Elma."

James laughed. "Too late. I've already given you the money for your card. You can't have it both ways. By the way, you've got two weeks to pull this off. That's when the Dionysus board meeting is."

"What if I fail?"

"You won't fail, Karl. Failure isn't in my vocabulary. And starting at this moment it isn't in yours."

Grant Avenue was its usual busy self, teeming with people and odors, basking in the infrequent warmth of a sunny day with no foggy strings attached. The odors, some of which emanated from an open fish market, might have unsettled my stomach if I had lingered too long. The plastic-wrapped people of my generation weren't used to being so close to the origin of their food.

I had made a quick change of clothes in my car so as to blend in with the tourists. I was just another sightseer strolling along with the crowds.

I turned onto the side street where Ned had met his demise, searching for I don't know what. It looked like any of a dozen other streets in the area, with shops selling an eclectic array of goods, restaurants with exotic names and food to match. I'm not sure I found the actual alley where Ned was killed. Alleys have a sameness about them.

I spotted the parking lot where Ned's car had been found and saw an attendant take money from an incoming customer and give him a ticket. A parking ticket. It occurred to me that Detective Washington had never mentioned that a parking ticket had been found in Ned's pocket.

What if the killers had found the ticket, gone to the car, planted the cocaine and then returned the car keys but not the ticket to Ned's pocket? The whole operation could have been conducted in ten minutes. And the parking attendant would not have been on duty that late so nobody would have observed what happened.

I turned several corners, at random, and found myself in a residential area-row houses that had seen better days. Fewer pedestrians here, not much auto traffic.

On a street corner ahead three homeboys-is that what they were called?-stood, smoking cigarettes. The shaved heads, rings through every protruding piece of flesh, tattoos, baggy jeans with crotches down to the knees, could have been in LA, except that I hadn't seen Asians who looked like this.

The sensible thing was to avoid them, go the other way. But I wasn't feeling sensible. Maybe because I was about to betray my father for a baseball card. Maybe because I was looking for a miracle to get me out of it.

I walked up to them and said, "I'm not a cop, but I'd like to ask you something."

They stared at me, coolly, insolently. One said, "Man says he ain't a cop."

Another: "Fuckin' right he ain't a cop."

The third: "We know all the cops. No cops we don't know. We know all the cars. We know everybody and everything in the hood."

The first: "You come in here, you don't belong, we pick you up on the radar. You hang around, you better have business here, and your business is our business."

The second: "You a lost tourist from Grant. You got no business here."

The Three Stooges, but they weren't funny. I should just walk away, except that they had shifted positions and were blocking the sidewalk.

"A guy was shot near Grant," I tried, "a couple of weeks ago. Name of Ned Mackay. Word is, someone paid to have it done. I just want a name. Who paid for it?"

"We don't know nothin' about no fuckin' shooting."

"We're good little boys, don't play with guns."

I tried again. "I don't care who did it. I just want to know who paid for it."

"How much money you got on you?" It was the first boy, possibly the leader.

"About a hundred dollars," I said, cautiously. I had at least that.

He spat. "A hundred dollars. Not even pocket money."

The third one said, "Rabbit, you'd sell your sister for 50.”

They chuckled. I chuckled. A very small chuckle.

Rabbit said, "Let's see the money."

Should I? What choice did I have? I pulled out my wallet and counted out five twenties. When he saw there was more he said, "Give me all of it."

Trying to appear cool, trying to hide my shaking hands, I pulled out all my bills and handed them to Rabbit. I put the wallet back in my pocket.

"If I give you a name," Rabbit said, "it didn't come from me. You come back here with the cops, I don't know nothing, you understand?"

I nodded. I had no plans to return under any circumstances.

"The name is Stan."

"Stan?"

"You heard me. I saw a credit card in there. Give me the credit card."

It was brand new. I had just received it in the mail. "It won't do you any good. You won't be able to use it." Reason with him. He's not such a bad guy.

"Give me the fuckin' credit card!"

He pulled something halfway out of his pocket. A gun. I took out my wallet again and gave him the credit card. I turned to walk away. One of the others blocked my path.

"Okay, I'm outta here," I said. Talk lightly. Breezily. I stepped to the side to walk around him. He stepped with me. Like a macabre dance.

"Let him go," Rabbit said, irritably.

"He might bring back the cops."

"He won't bring back the cops. He's a fuckin' tourist."

"I have to catch a plane," I said.

I stepped carefully around the guy and walked away, expecting to hear gunshots, expecting to feel bullets tearing into me with each jerky step I took.

Behind me I heard Rabbit say, "C'mon. I know where we can get cash for the card."

What next? I looked out the window of the plane, not seeing anything. I had called the credit card company. I had replenished my cash. Fortunately, they hadn't taken my ATM card. I had cut my financial losses, but what about my psychic losses?

The gangbangers I would get over, but being a Judas was not me. What if I did nothing? If Elma voted with James, I was in the clear. But what if she didn't? Chances are she wouldn't. According to my father, Arrow had convinced her to vote with him.

What would happen to me? What happened to Ned? Stan. Stan was the front man for James. He contracted with the killers. He knew where I lived.

Okay, go to the police. Tell them James paid to have Ned murdered. Right. James, one of the most influential men in San Francisco. And me without a shred of evidence.

Why did James have Ned killed? Because Ned owed him. Probably lost The Game and promised to deliver Dionysus to him. Then reneged. That's what happens to people who don't keep their promises to James.

I wanted to scream. Right there on the airplane. Make a disturbance, get myself arrested. If I'm in jail I can't be working on Elma. Hey, sorry, James, something came up. Did a little time so I couldn't help you. Heh, heh. Catch me again, later.

But James is a good businessman. We've got to separate that fact from his moral failings-meaning an occasional murder. If everything goes his way there won't be a problem. Everybody wins. Including my father. Everybody is happy. My father forgives me when he sees I was right.

The sun rises in the west.