JC2 The Raiders (21 page)

"I expect he can," said Bat dryly. "But it would be
damned risky. What would happen is, you'd invest in the hotel and pay
him a fee to do whatever he does to get officials to look the other
way; and then as time went by he'd up the fee and up it again,
claiming the locals were demanding more. He'd take a percentage off
you. If you didn't pay him what he wanted, he'd have you raided. He'd
have you closed down. That's the way he works. He invests nothing,
but he takes a percentage."

"I imagine there are ways of handling him," said Jonas.

"He'd have you at a disadvantage. This is his turf, you know.
Anyway, why buy into trouble?"

"Well, he's coming out to see me. What do I say to him?"

"Say, 'This is my son Jonas Enrique Raul Cord y Batista, a
lawyer with the firm of Gurza y Aroza. That firm will be advising
me.' Basurto won't even make the proposition. He'll just pass the
time of day and say he's pleased to have met you. And good-bye."

"
¡Chicle! ¡Chocolate!
"

"There will be others besides Basurto," said Bat. "Some
of them entirely legitimate. They will invite you to invest."

"Do you want to vet them for me?" asked Jonas.

"I'll be happy to."

After a week, Angie returned to Las Vegas. After she was gone, Sonja
called, asking Jonas to come to Cordoba and spend a weekend at the
hacienda. Bat would drive him. Jonas agreed, and on Friday afternoon
Bat picked him up in the Porsche. He gave him an exciting ride, at
speeds sometimes greater than 160 kilometers per hour.

The hacienda was actually some distance to the east of Cordoba. It
was situated on a mountainside, and on clear days a very distant view
of the Gulf of Mexico could be seen from the windows.

Sonja was the chatelaine of the hacienda, mistress over an extended
family and a dozen servants. The mountain land had once been a
working sheep and cattle ranch. In years past, Sonja explained, the
family had sold the land cheap and on good terms to tenant farmers
and farm laborers who now worked all but about fifty hectares of land
immediately adjacent to the house. The family kept the house as a
home, but the income to maintain it came from oil and other
investments.

She showed Jonas the thickness of the outer walls: a meter and more.
The dining room had once been a chapel. A pantry had once been an
arsenal. The swimming pool had been dug out of the rocky land that
had once been a courtyard enclosed by high walls, now torn down, and
the well that supplied the pool with water had been inside those
walls.

"The place was built to sustain a siege," she said. "Once
in fact it was attacked by Zapatistas." She smiled. "And
the people inside surrendered."

She gave him the bedroom suite that Fulgencio Batista used when he
came to visit — which he occasionally did. Emiliano Zapata had
slept two nights in that same room.

She introduced Jonas to one of Bat's half brothers and one of his
half sisters. The others were away: the boy in school in France and
the girl living with her husband in the States.

The half sister, whose name was Rafaela, told Jonas how Bat had saved
her life by shooting a rattlesnake with a pistol.

"You lived in a handsome home," Jonas said to Bat as they
stood on a stone terrace looking at the distant sea.

"I didn't live here long," said Bat. "I went away to
school."

Over dinner, Jonas stared at Sonja as much as he could without being
noticed. He was sure what he had said to Bat had been right: that she
was living a better life than he would have given her. Still, he
couldn't help reflect on what might have been. He might have lived
his own life very differently if he'd known she was carrying his
child and had married her. On the other hand, he might have resented
her, as men tend to do when they marry women they have made pregnant
without intending to.

He remembered her bright wonder as they crossed the Atlantic twice on
the big liners. He remembered her gratitude. Painfully, he remembered
the hurt he'd dealt her when he left her. He had been simply unable
to believe she was as innocent as she was.

A rationalization. He
had
known.

Now here she was, still beautiful, and now sophisticated and
dignified.

She'd brought the boy up wonderfully. It was going to be a pleasure
to introduce him to Nevada Smith.

In the Old World tradition, the women left the table after dinner,
and the men remained for coffee, brandy, and cigars — Bat and
Jonas and Virgilio Escalante. Virgilio and Bat wore white suits.
Jonas didn't have one and wore a summer-weight tan suit.

"The price of oil is down," Bat said to Virgilio.

"It will come back," said Virgilio.

"When the price of oil goes down," Bat said to Jonas, "they
don't pump as much. Which means that not only do they get less per
barrel but they don't sell as many barrels. It makes income fluctuate
wildly."

"I never invested in oil," said Jonas. "It has always
impressed me as a business in which a fool and his money are soon
parted." He nodded at Virgilio Escalante and added, "I
mean, señor, it is a business where a man should not venture
unless he is knowledgeable about that business."

Virgilio smiled. He was a graying, compact man who could, so far as
appearance was concerned, have been a native of the United States or
any country in Europe. "I understood your meaning," he
said.

"I've never invested in uranium either," said Jonas. "For
the same reason. It's a legitimate business in which some men are
making fortunes. But for those who don't know what they're doing —"
He shook his head.

"You've invested in a casino-hotel," said Bat.

"I have an experienced, knowledgeable consultant on my payroll."

"When I was last in the States," said Bat, "I saw Cord
television sets in the stores."

"We're not as successful in the field as RCA or General
Electric," said Jonas, "but I think we can compete with
Philco, Zenith, Magnavox, DuMont, Emerson, Sylvania, and the like."

"I am hoping to see television broadcasting in Mexico before too
much longer," said Virgilio. "I am afraid the broadcasting
will be government-controlled, however. It is in most countries."

They had no bourbon in the house, so Jonas carried
half a bottle of brandy to his room. He took a bath, stretched out on
his bed, and looked through an English-language book he had found in
the library.
Main Street
by Sinclair Lewis. He'd heard about
it for many years but had never read it. He'd never had the time.
Starting it now, he didn't find it terribly interesting and was about
to put it aside when someone knocked on his bedroom door.

God! Not Sonja. Surely not ...

No, not Sonja. When he opened the door he found Virgilio standing
there.

"May I come in?"

"Of course."

Two chairs faced the small fireplace, and the two men sat down. Jonas
had undressed for bed. He hadn't brought a robe, so he'd pulled on
his pants before he went to the door. Virgilio was still wearing the
white suit he'd worn at dinner.

"I hope you will forgive the intrusion," said Virgilio. "I
hope even more you will forgive the reason for it."

Jonas nodded. "Would you like some brandy?"

"No, thank you. I ... I am most embarrassed about what I am
about to say. After dinner, when Bat spoke of the price of oil and
the wide fluctuations we experience in oil income, he was not
prompted by me, but he was explaining something that I would
otherwise have had to explain."

Jonas knew what was coming. He was about to be touched for a loan.

"Even the past few months' diminished income would have been
entirely sufficient ... but for one thing. I have been very foolish
in Las Vegas. I am heavily indebted to the casinos, which of course
expect payment. I need time. When the price of oil recovers, which it
will, I shall be in a position to pay in full, with reasonable
interest. For the moment —" He turned up the palms of his
hands.

"How much do you owe?" asked Jonas.

"More than a quarter of a million dollars," said Virgilio
glumly. "I owe the Flamingo a hundred ten thousand. I owe The
Seven Voyages a hundred sixty-five thousand. Imagine my surprise and
embarrassment when I learned that you own The Seven Voyages."

"You gamble badly," said Jonas. "Do you have other
expensive habits?"

"No," said Virgilio humbly. "I am loyal to my wife —
I mean, as loyal as any man; I have ventured but have never kept
another woman. Like any man. No significant money."

Jonas was distressed that the man would bare himself this way. He
demeaned himself, confessing his peccadilloes to a man who was almost
a stranger to him. "You have what we call a cash-flow problem,"
he said to Virgilio.

"I believe that is the term."

Jonas's mind worked fast. This man had reared his son for him —
and reared him well. He decided.

"One sixty-five at my hotel, one ten at the Flamingo, you say.
Don't worry about it. I'll take care of it."

"A loan," said Virgilio.

"We can talk about it again sometime when the cash is flowing.
In the meantime, don't even think about it. I'll take care of it."

From the villa in Mexico City, Jonas telephoned Morris Chandler on
Tuesday, using the scrambler telephone.

"What are we carrying on the books in the name of Virgilio
Escalante?" he asked.

"We don't have books for that kind of thing," said Morris.

"Then I'm sure you've got it in your head, Morris — that
kind of money."

"Hundred sixty-five," said Morris.

"Write it off," said Jonas.

Morris Chandler said nothing for a long moment, then said, "Well,
you own the place."

"Right. Now, I understand that Señor Escalante owes a
hundred ten at the Flamingo. Call and offer them fifty for it."

"They won't go for it."

"See if they do."

"Okay," Morris sighed. "You're the boss."

"Let me ask you something," said Jonas. "How much are
we carrying for our Mexican junketeers?"

"Oh, I'd say another five hundred thousand. More than that,
actually."

"And how much do we make from them in a year?"

"Offhand —"

"Enough to justify flying a plane back and
forth from Mexico City twice a week, right? Enough to justify rooms,
meals, drinks, gifts, right? Well then, it's enough to invest a
hundred sixty in one of their high rollers. It's
business
, my
friend, business."

When Bat came to the villa on Friday evening, Angie was there again.
She had come down on the Thursday junket flight and would return to
Las Vegas on Tuesday.

From the moment when Bat walked into the living room, Jonas saw that
his son was angry. Dressed in a gray suit of some shiny material,
with a narrow black necktie, Bat looked more Mexican than Jonas had
ever seen him. He didn't sit down and spoke to Angie.

"I hope you won't be offended, Angie, but I would like to speak
with my father alone ... for a few minutes."

Angie rose, nodded, and quietly left the room.

"Why?" asked Jonas.

Bat stepped over to the chair where his father was sitting. He
reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out an
envelope. He handed the envelope to Jonas. "There," he
said. "There's twenty-five thousand in cash. That's all I could
raise for the moment. The balance is represented by a note for two
hundred fifty thousand. I'll pay as soon as I can. With interest."

Jonas didn't open the envelope. He thrust it toward Bat, who stepped
back and didn't take it.

"May I ask what the hell this is for?"

Bat glared. "Virgilio ...
Padre
...
put a touch on you for his Las Vegas gambling losses. It was a
despicable thing to do. I'm not sure you didn't do something worse,
though. You gave it to him."

"I made him a loan."

"Do you have a note?"

"No. A deal like that doesn't need a note. It's a deal between
gentlemen."

"Virgilio is no gentleman," said Bat.
"His father, the man I called
Abuelo
— grandfather
— would have horsewhipped him for asking money from you, from
you
of all people! And you gave it to him! 'A deal between
gentlemen.' Bullshit!"

Jonas flared. "Who the hell are you to talk to me that way?"

"I want a straight answer to a straight question."

"Let me hear your straight question," Jonas muttered, his
face glowering and red.

"The two seventy-five thousand cleared accounts between you and
Virgilio, didn't it? It wiped the books clean. He married my mother,
knowing she was pregnant by you. He brought me up in his household
and treated me as if I were his son. He paid my tuition — well,
part of it. Most of that was paid with Batista money, and we know how
that is earned. But you and Virgilio. You're even, aren't you? My
straight question is Can you tell me you didn't think of it that way?
You hand over two seventy-five thousand and you feel no more
obligation to Virgilio Escalante. Isn't that the way you figured?"

Jonas shook his head. "In the first place," he said, "you
know nothing about casino gambling if you think high rollers like
Virgilio have to pay a hundred cents on the dollar. I bought his
markers from the Flamingo for fifty thousand. Morris Chandler would
have sold him his markers at my hotel for a hundred ten or a hundred
twenty. Your note is more than a hundred thousand too rich."

"That's not a straight answer to my straight
question," Bat snapped angrily. "What the hell's the
difference how much you paid? You paid him off!
Didn't you
?"

"If you've made up your mind to that, why should I even answer?"

Bat stiffened as he drew a deep breath. He stood for a full quarter
of a minute breathing heavily. "Because," he said hoarsely
between clenched teeth. "Because — All right. If you give
me your word on it, I will believe you. I have no choice."