JC2 The Raiders (41 page)

He moved to the fireplace and exchanged idle words with Bill Toller
and Ben Parrish, studying the others in the room with the same
intensity with which they were observing him and each other. He wore
a gray tweed cashmere jacket and charcoal-gray slacks, a white shirt,
and a narrow regimental-stripe tie.

He saw his father often, not less frequently than once every other
week, and he had seen him at his worst, depressed and probably
frightened. He had seen him snatch a nitroglycerine pill from a
bottle and jam it into his mouth. Lately, though, he had observed
distinct improvement. Jonas had lost one-third of his heart capacity,
the doctors said. He should moderate his activity, they said. Bat had
watched him closely and knew what he was doing. Jonas was testing
himself. He knew what he cared about, what counted for him; and he
knew how much he was willing to give up to survive. He was the kind
of man who wouldn't value life without bourbon, rare steaks, a lot of
vigorous sex, and, above all, the satisfaction of challenging,
competing, and winning.

"You know what?" he had said to Bat one day in the suite
atop The Seven Voyages. "I get it up just fine. I didn't lose a
bit of that. In fact, I had her go down on me before I left the
hospital. The doctors would have— "

"How would
she
have felt if— "

"I know, I know," Jonas had said impatiently. "We
talked about that. I told her it was okay with me. What a way to go!"

Bat had grinned. "You are irrepressible," he had said.

Jonas had laughed. "Damn right."

His father had given him authority to make the changes he had
recommended; but, as he had expected, the older man looked over his
shoulder every minute and intervened regularly. He won his father's
approval often, but it was never unqualified approval. There was
always some little thing that could have been done better.

For example—

"You passed up an opportunity. Lucky I saw it."

"What are you talking about?" Bat asked.

"Cord Aircraft."

"What the hell? You agreed to phase it out. I got eight million
five for the plant and machinery, most of it obsolete. Sold the whole
works to Phoenix Aircraft. Everybody I know says I got a damned good
deal. We're out of the airplane business, and we got eight and a half
million cash."

Jonas shook his head. "Well, you don't know anything about
airplanes. You know what I did with the eight and a half million?"

Bat shook his head. "I'm afraid to ask."

"I bought twenty-five percent of Phoenix."

"
Why?
We were getting out of the
airplane business. You agreed— "

"I asked the guys from Phoenix to stop by and
show me what they were planning. I discovered I was talking to some
aviation geniuses. They're gonna build a sleek little low-wing
two-seater configured with the seats fore and aft, to be flown with a
stick instead of a yoke. That little airplane will
sell
. I
offered them their eight and a half million back, for twenty-five
percent and a seat on the board of directors. God, were they happy!"

"So, are
we
supposed to be happy?
We're back in the airplane business, where we were losing money, and—
"

"Bat!" Jonas interrupted. "Can't you see a no-lose
proposition when it's staring you in the face? All we invested in
their airplane is the money they paid us for the plant. If this great
little plane they want to build is a success, we have a percentage.
If it isn't, all we invested is the old building with a lot of
obsolete old machine tools. You've gotta watch for deals like that.
They come along once in a while."

Another plaything. Another enthusiasm that would cost money. Another
time when it would have been a big mistake to say so.

When the
Wall Street Journal
and other
newspapers reported that Cord television sets would no longer be
made, the market for the sets vanished. Retailers unloaded the sets
they had at sharply discounted prices and ordered no more. Jonas was
extremely annoyed and suggested someone had intentionally leaked the
news. The family took a loss on the deal, and Jonas blamed Bat. He
hadn't done it right. He'd let it get away from him.

"Somebody fucked us, Bat. Somebody who works
for us. You've gotta be always on the lookout for that. You're too
goddamned trusting. Look around for the guy that
owes
us, that
we've bailed out of trouble. You think that wins us his loyalty? No.
The other way around. He hates us. I'd first trust the guy we
screwed, then the guy we saved from a screwing."

Jonas sat at the head of the table. Bat at the other end. The cook,
without the supervision of Robair, had carved a big turkey, and a
temporary man serving in a white jacket as a waiter set it on the
table on a silver tray. Platters and bowls were filled with dressing,
potatoes, gravy, vegetables, cranberry sauce, celery, radishes,
olives, and hot rolls. Red wine, white wine, and champagne were in
cradles or in buckets of ice.

Jonas surveyed the spread with a critical eye for a long moment, then
seemed to be satisfied. He tapped a glass with a spoon. "Let me
say how pleased I am that we are all together this evening. I wish we
could do it more often. Let's plan on it. Next year we will gather in
New York."

He didn't offer to say grace, and no one suggested it. The family and
their friends set about eating.

Toni had noticed before that Jonas, Monica, and Jo-Ann — and
five years ago, Nevada — ate like ranch hands: diligently
filling their plates and moving food to their mouths as if they had
but limited time. They spoke little while they were eating, and when
they did speak it was usually to express satisfaction with a dish.
("This is good, isn't it? Tell Martha she did a first-rate
job.") They were not rude in their manners; they just ate
purposefully. They were purposeful people.

In this, Bat was not like them. He savored his food and wine and took
his time. Toni was pleased that she and Bat and Bill Toller were
still very much in the middle of their meal when Jonas, Jo-Ann, and
Monica were finished and were allowing the man to take their plates.

"Well," said Jonas, glancing around the table. "Maybe
this is as good a time as any, while we're all together, to announce
a change or two I've decided to make in the organization of the
businesses."

There could have been no more inappropriate time to announce a
reorganization, and surely Jonas knew it. Bat went on eating, as if
he knew what his father was about to announce — which he did
not know.

"I've been reviewing this year's performance and this year's
changes," Jonas went on. "On the whole, I'm satisfied. We
stubbed our toes on a few things, but on the whole we've had a good
year. Bat recommended reorganization, I accepted his recommendation,
and I'm glad I did. Studying what we've done over the past five
years, it has become apparent to me that Bat and I have complementary
talents. Bat does some things better than I do. I do some things
better than Bat does. For that reason, I want to change the structure
a bit to take advantage of those disparate and complementary skills."

Bat glanced up at his father at intervals, but his attention seemed
to remain focused on his dinner.

Jonas continued. "For myself, I'm very happy I got us into the
hotel business. We're going to own two of the finest casino-hotels in
Las Vegas, and they're going to make money like nothing else does! I
will continue personal control over Cord Hotels. Bat recommended that
we go into television production, and we've done reasonably well at
that. I am oriented to show business more than he is. I made movies,
after all, and we own Cord Studios because I established them. I am
going to assume full executive authority over Cord Productions and
relieve Bat of any responsibility in that area of the business."

It was obvious now that Bat's concentration on the remainder of his
dinner was a façade against what his father was saying.

"I'm gonna run the casino-hotel business and the entertainment
element of the business myself, hands-on," said Jonas. "Now,
as to Bat, he has proved himself a shrewd businessman, an organizer,
a man who understands how to finance things. As of the first of
January he will be president and chief executive officer of Cord
Enterprises. He will be president and chief executive officer of Cord
Explosives, which incorporates Cord Plastics, and of
Inter-Continental Airlines." Jonas paused and grinned. "With
those offices he won't have enough work to do, so I'm handing him a
new assignment. I'm creating a committee of the board of directors of
Cord Enterprises — a committee on new ventures and
acquisitions. Bat will be chairman. I'll serve on the committee, as
will Professor Moynihan; and since the board is not really large
enough to have committees, I am enlarging the board from five members
to seven. Our general counsel, David Amory, will be a director and a
member of Bat's committee. In addition I have asked my dear friend
Angela Wyatt to serve as a director."

Two of the bedrooms in the ranch house had small fireplaces. Jonas
had taken one for himself and assigned the other to Bat. Snow had
fallen all during their dinner and was still falling. The sight of
snow, the deep silence of a snowy night, made them feel cold even
when the temperature in a room was the same as it had been a few
hours ago. Jonas had asked Angie to build up the fire, and she
squatted in front of the fireplace, already naked, and pushed
splinters of kindling against the few hot coals that remained from an
earlier fire.

"Congratulations, Madame Corporate Director," said Jonas.

She turned and smiled at him. "Thank you, Jonas. That was a
wonderful thing for you to do for me."

"You deserve it," he said. "You've earned it. Anyway,
you know all about what the board does, since you've been at every
meeting, taking the minutes. Now you'll have a vote."

"I'll always vote the way you do," she said ingenuously.

Jonas grinned. "Well, I hope so." He was sitting on a
tweedy couch in a long blue terry-cloth robe. He picked up a bottle
and poured a splash of bourbon. "Nightcap," he said. "One
last sip." She'd had the temerity to count his drinks and remind
him of his promise to his doctors to cut down on the booze. He didn't
sip. He tossed the bourbon down with a satisfied grunt.

With the fire beginning to catch, Angie came to the couch, sat down
beside Jonas, and reached inside his robe to massage his penis.

"I wish I had the place wired," said Jonas. "I'd like
to hear what they're saying out there." They had come to their
bedroom as soon as they left the dinner table. "Actually, they
won't say anything. None of them trust each other enough to say what
they think in each other's presence."

"Bat— "

"I wouldn't want him to know how much he means to me," said
Jonas. "What I really wish I had wired is that bedroom at the
other end of the hall. I'd like to hear what he and Toni say when
they're alone."

As Toni undressed, Bat stirred coals, added wood, and knelt and blew
on the coals, coaxing up a lively blaze in the little fireplace.

"What was all that about?" she asked when he stood and
began to take off his clothes.

"I
could
say much ado about nothing.
Actually, it's about something. He gives me a more impressive title,
but he isn't giving up an iota of control."

"Was it a sort of Christmas present?" she asked. "The
title?"

"You could think of it that way," said Bat. "He wants
my allegiance. He could have assured it better another way."

"What way?"

"He could have arranged a transfer to me of a block of the CE
stock. I hold just ten shares. So does each of the directors, except
Judge Gitlin who owns two hundred. All the rest of it, my father owns
himself. That's how he keeps absolute control. Absolute control."

"He won't give up control while he lives. You know that. You
couldn't expect him to."

"No, of course not. But if I held ten percent of the stock, I'd
feel more secure."

Bat hung his clothes over a chair and sat down on the bed beside
Toni. She beckoned him to lie back, to cuddle with her.

"If you held forty percent, he could still fire you any time he
felt like it," she said.

"Right."

"But why did he shut you out of television
production?" she asked. "The
Glenda Grayson Show
was
your idea. You've done as much with Cord Productions as anybody
could."

"I can think of two reasons," Bat said. "In the first
place, he likes the glamour aspect of it. He was always bored with
businesses like explosives and plastic, though for a long time they
were his basic moneymakers. He liked the airline. He liked building
airplanes and flying them himself as the test pilot. And he liked
making pictures."

"That's one reason. What's the other?"

"As head of Cord Productions, I hired Jo-Ann. He's going to dump
her. He doesn't want her anywhere near the business, any aspect of
it."

"Does he hate her?"

"No, but he doesn't trust her. You can understand why."

"What kind of a job was she doing?" Toni asked.

"Good enough. Competent. But he won't let her work for him, and
I don't think Monica will give her a job, either."

"She has a good education," said Toni. "Nothing
prevents her from getting a job not working for her parents."

"She doesn't have to work. She can live very comfortably on what
our father gives her. Of course, I understand how frustrated she has
been, living on an allowance."

"Bat ..."

"Hmm?"

"You're not very happy, are you?"

"Well. I'm not accustomed to observing Christmas Eve by hearing
a talk on the reorganization of the business."