The Betsy (1971) (24 page)

“Okay,” he said. “Just keep your eyes and ears open. Find out as much as you can and call me every night.”

“I’ll do that,” she said. “How long do you expect to stay here?”

“The doctors say they’ll let me out in a couple of days.”

“I’m sorry you were hurt,” she said.

He looked at her. “Do you know why I picked you to go into Number One’s office?”

She shook her head.

“Because you’re a big girl and he likes big women.”

“I don’t understand,” she said.

“Don’t be stupid,” he snapped. “You know his reputation. Sooner or later, he’ll make a pass at you.”

“Then what do I do?”

“You pretend to go along with him,” he said. “Gain his confidence. Then we’ll have him.”

“What if I don’t go along with him?”

He stared at her. “There are other girls who would like that job.”

Her eyes fell. She was silent.

He laughed. The tone in his voice changed. “You said you were going to take a bath. Did you have anything on when we talked on the phone?”

She didn’t look up. The look on McManus’ face flashed through her mind. “A housedress.”

“Anything under it?” His voice was getting husky.

“No.”

“Come closer to the bed.”

She raised her head, looked at him, then at the man who had driven her here. He was standing, his back against the door, watching them impassively.

Warren caught her glance. “Don’t mind Mike. He’s my bodyguard. He really doesn’t see anything.”

She didn’t move.

“I said come over here!”

Reluctantly she moved to the bed. He took her hand and put it on the sheet between his legs. “I got a hard-on just thinking about it,” he said.

She was silent.

“Pull the sheet down.”

She started to move the sheet. He winced in sudden pain. “Carefully, damn it!”

She moved the sheet down slowly until the bottom of his hospital gown revealed skinny, hairy legs. The front of the gown hung like a small tent over his erect phallus. “Push the gown up and jack me off,” he said. “But be careful, don’t shake the bed because that hurts my arm.”

She raised the gown gently. His organ was full and erect, the red tip of his glans trying to push its way through his foreskin. Slowly she freed it and began to massage him. Soon her hands were wet and slippery with the fluid that came pouring from him.

“Oh, Jesus, that’s good,” he said, leaning his head back against the pillows, his eyes closed. “Put your other hand under my balls and squeeze them a little.”

His testicles felt like small rocks in her hand. “Faster, faster.”

She began to pump him rapidly; his mouth opened and his breathing seemed to keep time with her motion. “Now you really got it,” he groaned.

A moment passed. “Take me in your mouth!” he said suddenly. “I’m going to come!”

She hesitated, glancing at the man standing against the door. His eyes looked blankly back at her. Then she felt Warren’s hand in her hair, pulling her face down to him. Her mouth opened automatically.

He had already begun his orgasm by the time she reached him and the first hot drops of his viscous semen spat against her cheeks and then she got it in her mouth. She swallowed quickly to keep the frantic flow from choking her and after a moment it was over.

He leaned back against the pillow, his eyes closed. “You’re almost as good a cocksucker as some of the little pansies I know.”

She didn’t answer.

He opened his eyes and looked at her, then at his bodyguard. “What do you think, Mike? Is she as good as our little friend?”

“It don’t look like it, Boss,” the bodyguard replied. “He seems to like it more.”

Warren laughed. “Maybe when we get out of here, I’ll have you give her some lessons.”

For the first time the bodyguard’s voice was shocked. “You know I don’t like girls!”

Warren laughed again. “I don’t mean that. I mean show her how to really do it.” He turned back to her, his voice going cold. “Get a washcloth and a towel and wipe me off.”

She went into the small bathroom. In the mirror her cheeks were shining and wet with his milky fluid. She wiped her face and then went back into the room.

A few moments later, the sheets were straightened over him once again. “That’s better. No point having the nurse know what’s going on.”

She didn’t speak. This was what happened every time she went with him. Not once had they ever had sex together nor had he ever wanted it. Had she been a virgin, her hymen would have been intact if it were up to him.

“Give her five dollars and send her home in a cab,” he said to the bodyguard.

Mike came toward her, a five-dollar bill in his hand. She took it from him and he walked back to the door. She turned to the bed.

“You call me here right after work tomorrow,” he said.

“I will,” she said. “Good night.”

“Good night,” he answered.

Mike stepped aside and opened the door to let her out. She heard the door close behind her as she walked down the long hospital corridor.

Once outside, she looked down at her hand. The five-dollar bill was still clutched in it. The clang of a streetcar approaching came to her ears. She looked at the bill again, then at the taxi line. Suddenly she began to run toward the corner to the trolley stop.

It might take her more than two hours to get home. But five dollars was more than a whole day’s pay.

 Chapter Ten

Edgerton walked across the office. “I’m worried, Mr. Hardeman,” he said. “This is the second payday the banks have been closed and we’re getting a lot of complaints from the employees. The stores won’t accept our checks.”

“We’re good for it,” Loren said.

“It’s not only us,” Edgerton said. “It’s the banks. Too many have already closed down for good. Now I hear talk that the men won’t show up for work unless they get paid in cash.”

“Pay them in cash then,” said Loren.

“We haven’t got it,” Edgerton said flatly. “Our weekly payroll is over a hundred and forty thousand. Nobody keeps that much cash on hand.”

“Get it then.”

“Where? The banks are closed to us as well as to them.”

Loren was thoughtful for a moment. “What does Personnel have to say about this?”

“Warren bucked it to me. He says it’s the treasurer’s job to provide the money for the payroll.”

“Has he explained the situation to the employees?”

“He says he has.”

“That’s not what I asked. Has he?”

“I don’t know. I heard that a group of men came in to talk to him about it and that he fired the whole bunch of them.”

“Why?”

“He says they were troublemakers. All Wobblies trying to unionize the plant and that they were just using this as an excuse.”

“What do you think?”

“I know some of those men. They’re old-line employees. I don’t think they are Wobblies.”

“If they were would it make any difference? Wouldn’t they still be entitled to their pay?”

“Yes,” said Edgerton.

Loren flipped the switch on his intercom. Melanie’s voice answered. “Yes, Mr. Hardeman.”

“Ask Mr. Warren to come up here right away,” he said, flipping off the switch.

A few minutes later, Joe Warren came into the office. His arm was still in a sling, his eyes wary.

“Warren, I hear we’re having problems over the fact that employees can’t cash their pay checks.”

Warren began smoothly. “You have to recognize the fact, Mr. Hardeman, that during the past few years we have been infiltrated by the I.W.W., Communists and union organizers. It isn’t our men stirring up the trouble. It’s them.”

“You mean to say our men can cash their checks?”

“No,” Warren said. “But our men aren’t complaining.”

“How do you know?”

“I know the good ones and the bad ones,” Warren said.

“And only the bad ones are complaining, is that it?” Loren asked sarcastically.

“Yes, Mr. Hardeman.”

“Did you explain the situation to them?” Loren asked.

“There’s nothing to explain,” Warren answered. “Every other company in town is in the same boat. They all know that.”

“But if they can’t cash their checks and they can’t get credit at the stores, how are they going to eat?” Loren asked.

“That’s not our problem,” Warren said. “We can’t be expected to manage our employees’ money. If they can’t establish their own credit, it’s unfortunate.”

“If the stores won’t accept our checks,” Loren asked, “don’t you think it’s our credit that’s being questioned, not theirs?”

Warren didn’t answer.

“Have you taken any steps to assure the local merchants that Bethlehem Motors will back up their checks regardless of the bank upon which they were issued?”

“I didn’t see where it was necessary,” Warren answered.

Loren was silent. He studied the man sitting in front of him. Warren had a feral quality, even while sitting still. There was an air of cold ruthlessness about him that no amount of surface amenities could dispel.

“I don’t see why you should concern yourself with such petty details, Mr. Hardeman,” Warren said. “I can control the situation. Meanwhile we can use the circumstance to smoke out the bad employees in our plant and get rid of them.”

Loren didn’t speak.

“We’ve already rid ourselves of more than twenty troublemakers,” Warren said. “And we have our eyes on more of them.”

Loren was still silent.

Warren rose to his feet. “Just leave everything to me, Mr. Hardeman. I’ll work it out, you’ll see.” He started for the door.

“Sit down, Warren!” Loren snapped. “I didn’t give you permission to leave!”

Warren hesitated a moment, then returned to his seat. Carefully he rested his sling on the arm of the chair.

“I want you to send a letter out to every merchant and store in the area that Bethlehem Motors will guarantee every pay check issued by them regardless of the bank concerned.”

Warren shook his head. “Can’t do that, Mr. Hardeman. Such a letter has to be approved either by the president of the company or the board of directors.”

“Then get the president to sign it,” Loren said.

“I don’t know where he is,” Warren said blandly. “I haven’t seen him for over two weeks. Have you?”

Loren stared at him. Warren knew damn well he hadn’t seen his son since that day in the office. “Then prepare the letter, I’ll sign it.”

“You haven’t the authority,” Warren said calmly. “You cannot commit the company to that kind of loss in case the banks should fail.”

“There’s nothing in the company bylaws to prevent me from guaranteeing those checks personally, is there?”

“What you do personally is none of our concern,” Warren said.

“Then prepare the letter that way for my signature,” said Loren.

“If you like,” Warren said. “Is there anything else?”

“Yes,” Loren said. “Also inform the employees that the next payroll will be cash.”

“I’ll do that,” Warren said. “But all hell will break loose if the money isn’t there on payday.”

“That will be my problem,” Loren said. “You can go now.”

They were silent until the door closed behind Warren, then Edgerton turned to Loren. “Where are you going to get the money?”

“I’ll get it someplace,” Loren said. He looked at the closed door. “What’s the latest report from Duncan?”

“Everything will be set in a week. The new cars should be rolling off the line within the month.”

“Good.” Loren smiled with satisfaction. “That cuts Charlie Sorensen’s new model changeover time at Ford exactly in half. Six weeks instead of ninety days.” He took a cigarette from the box on his desk. “Do you think he knows anything about it?”

“With his spy system?” Edgerton asked, then answered his own question. “I’m sure that he does.”

“But they’ve done nothing about it.” Loren asked, “What do you think they’re waiting for?”

“Actually, there’s very little they can do at the moment. The bank closing played right into our hands in this case. The bankers are too busy with their own problems to pay attention to us. And the board meeting is still more than a week away.”

Loren thought for a moment. “Get after Duncan and tell him I want the production line rolling within a week and I don’t care how he does it. I want that car coming off the line before the board meeting.”

“That means dumping the contract with Ford for car bodies,” said Edgerton.

“Dump it then.”

“Bennett will be sore. He’ll sue.”

“No, he won’t,” Loren said. “I’ll straighten it out with Edsel and Charlie Sorensen.” He was silent for a moment. “I wonder if there’s any tieup between Bennett and Warren?”

“I know they’re good friends,” Edgerton said. “Warren just built a house on Grosse Pointe Isles next to Bennett.”

Loren looked at him. “I understand all purchasing has been consolidated into Warren’s department.”

“It’s not a bad idea,” Edgerton said. “Central control. We get better prices than purchasing department by department.”

“I’m not saying it’s not,” Loren said quickly. “I’m just wondering if a close look into purchasing won’t be useful.”

Edgerton smiled. “It can’t hurt.”

“Can you do it without him becoming aware of what’s happening?”

“I think so,” Edgerton said. “It’s near the time for our annual audit. I’ll just have the boys take an extra hard look at the purchasing contracts.”

“You do that and keep me posted.” Loren got to his feet.

Edgerton rose also. He looked at Loren. “Mr. Hardeman,” he said tentatively.

“Yes, Walt?”

“I’m glad you’re back,” he said.

“Grandpa! Grandpa!” The children’s voices greeted him at the door. He opened his arms and swept them up to him. He kissed Anne’s cheek first, then Loren III.

“Were you a good boy today?” he asked his grandson.

“He was a very good boy,” Anne said in her three-year-old voice. “He only hit me once today.”

“Only once?” Loren pretended shock. He looked at the boy. “Why did you do that?”

“I deserved it,” Anne said. “I hit him first.”

“Remember the rules,” he said sternly. “I said no more fights.”

“We’re trying to remember, Grandpa,” the little boy said. “But sometimes we forget.”

“Don’t forget,” he said.

“Piggyback! Piggyback!” Anne cried.

“Yes! Piggyback!” her brother echoed.

Loren put them down and got on his hands and knees. The children climbed on his back, Anne in front, her little hands digging into his hair, Loren III in the back, clutching his grandfather’s belt.

“Pony Express!” the boy yelled, slapping Loren’s behind with his hand.

“Faster! Faster!” Anne yelled happily.

Loren crawled rapidly into the library with them bouncing up and down on his back. He came to a stop in front of silk-clad legs in high-heeled shoes and looked up.

“Exactly what do you think you’re doing down there?” Sally asked, trying to keep her voice stern.

“Look out,” Loren said. “We’re the Wells Fargo Pony Express.” He set out at a rapid gallop around the room. He came to a stop again in front of Sally.

“All right, children,” Sally said firmly. “That’s enough. You’re annoying your grandfather. It’s time for your dinner.”

“We want to play!” Loren III yelled.

“Your grandfather is tired. He had to work hard all day,” Sally said, lifting him from Loren’s back. Anne slid to the floor. “Now give Grandfather a kiss and go in to dinner.”

“Can we play some more after dinner?” Anne asked.

“No. After dinner, you’re both going to bed, but if you both eat all your dinner, Grandfather will come upstairs and tell you a bedtime story.”

“Will you, Grandpa?” Loren III asked.

“You bet your sweet patootie,” Loren said, getting to his feet.

The children picked it up. “You bet your sweet patootie!” they shouted, running from the room, their voices echoing back from the hall. “You bet your sweet patootie!”

Sally frowned. “That’s a fine thing to teach the children,” she said, trying to keep a straight face. “You’re more of a child than they are.”

He laughed. “It won’t hurt them.”

“I have ice and whiskey on the bar,” she said. “Want me to fix you a drink?”

He nodded, watching her go to the bar. She came back to him, the whiskey amber and the ice tinkling in the glass. He took the drink from her. His eyes were on her face. “I always said a house needs a woman’s touch.”

She looked at him for a moment without speaking, then turned and went to the bar and made herself a drink. She came back to him. “I spoke to Junior today,” she said without sitting down.

“Yes,” he said in an expressionless voice.

“He wanted me to return home. He said he would come back if I did.”

He sipped at his drink without speaking.

“I told him I was never coming back,” she said.

“Then what did he say?”

“He got nasty and said all sorts of things.”

“What sorts of things?”

“That he knew what we were doing and we didn’t fool him or anyone else. That he had the evidence that we were sleeping together and he wouldn’t hesitate to use it in court to take the children away from me.”

Loren shook his head sadly.

“It’s more than that,” she said. “He hates so much he’s blind.”

Loren looked up at her. “What are you going to do?”

“I can’t stay here,” she said. “There’s no point in dragging you into this mess. I was thinking of moving to England.”

“Would you get a divorce first?”

“Yes,” she said. “If he would agree, I could go to Reno.”

“Then what would you do?”

“Go to England with the children. The schools are very good there. And at least they speak the same language.”

After a moment, he put his glass down. “When did Junior say he would return?”

“Next week. He said something about having to be here for a board meeting.”

That added up. It also provided the reason why Warren was lying low. They were going to let him dig his own grave. He got to his feet. “You don’t have to go anywhere, you know that,” he said. “You can stay right here in Hardeman Manor. The children are happy and I don’t give a damn what he does.”