The Moneychangers (32 page)

The others chuckled dutifully.
It was no secret that S
tonebridge, ex-State governor, e
x-Minority Leader in the Senate, was fretful and restless in his present role. Before the election which had thrust him there, his running mate, the presidential candidate, declared that his Vice-President would in a new post-Watergate era play a meaningful busy part in government. As always after inauguration, the promise stayed unfulfilled.

Heyward and Quartermain chipped onto the green, then waited with Stonebridge as the Honorable Harold, who had been playing erratically, shanked, laughed, flubbed, laughed, and finally chipped on.

The four men made a diverse foursome. G. G. Quartermain, towering above the others, was expensively immaculate in tartan slacks, a Lacoste cardigan, and navy suede Foot-Joys. He wore a red golf cap, its badge proclaiming the
coveted status of a member of L
ordly Cay Club.

The Vice-President portrayed stylish neatness double knit slacks, a mildly colorful shirt, his golfing footwear an ambivalent black and white In dram
atic contrast was Harold
Austin
the most flamboyant dresser and a study in shocking pink and lavender. Roscoe Heyward was efficiently practical in dark gray slacks, a white, short-sleeved "dress" shirt and soft black shoes. Even on a golf course he looked like a banker.

Their progress since the first tee had been something of a cavalcade. Big George and Heyward shared one electric golf cart; Stonebridge and the Honorable Harold occupied another. Six more electric carts had been requisitioned by the Vice-President's Secret Service escort and now surrounded them on both sides and fore and aft like a destroyer squadron.

"If you had free choice, By," Roscoe Heyward said, "free choice to set some government priorities, what would they be?"

Yesterday, Heyward had addressed Stonebridge formally as "Mr. Vice-President,', but was quickly assured, "Forget the formality; I get weary of it. You'll find I answer best to 'By.' " Heyward, who cherished first name
friendships with important people, was delighted.

Stonebridge answered, "If I had my choice I'd concentrate on economics restoring fiscal sanity, some balanced national bookkeeping."

Big
G. Quartermain, who had overheard, remarked, "A brave few tried it, By. They failed. And you're too late." "It's late, George, but not too late."

"I
’
ll debate that with you." Big George squatted, considering the line of his putt. "After nine. Right now the priority is sinking this."

Since the game started, Quartermain had been quieter than the others, and intense. He had his handicap down to three and always played to win. Winning or turning in a sub-par score pleased him (so he said) as much as acquiring a new company for Supranational.

Heyward was playing with consistent competence, his performance neither flashily spectacular nor anything to be ashamed of.

As all four walked from their carts at the sixth tee, Big George cautioned: "Keep your banker's eye on the scores of those two, Roscoe. To a politician and an advertising man, accuracy's not a natural habit."

"My exalted status requires that I win," the Vice-President said. "By any means."

"Oh, I have the scores." Roscoe Heyward tapped his forehead. "They're all in here. On 1, George and By had fours, Harold a six, and I had a bogey. We all had pars on 2 except for By with that incredible birdie. Of course, Harold and I had net birds there, too. Everyone held par on 3 except Harold; he had another six. The fourth hole was our good one, fours for George and me (and I had a stroke there), a five for By, a seven for Harold. And, of course, this last hole was a real disaster for Harold but then his partner comes through with another bird. So as far as the match is concerned, right now we're even."

Byron Stonebridge stared at him. "That's uncanny! I'll be damned."

"You have me wrong for that first hole," the Honorable Harold said. "I had a five, not a six." '

Heyward said firmly, "Not so, Harold. Remember, you drove into that palm grove, punched out, hit your fairway wood short of the green, chipped long and two-putted." "He's right," Stonebridge confirmed. "I remember."

"Goddamn', Roscoe," Harold Austin grumbled, "whose friend are you?"

"Mine, by Godl" Big George exclaimed. He draped a friendly arm over Heyward's shoulders. "I'm beginning to like you, Roscoe, especially your handicap!" As Heyward glowed, Big George lowered his voice to a confidential level. "Was everything satisfactory last night?"

"Perfectly satisfactory, thank you. I enjoyed the journey, the evening, and I slept extremely well."

He had not slept well at first. In the course of the previous evening at G. G. Quartermain's Bahamas mansion it had become evident that Avril, the slim and lovely redhead, was available to Roscoe Heyw
ard on any terms he chose. That
was made plain both by innuendo from the others and Avril's increasing nearness as the day, then night, progressed. She lost no opportunity to lean toward Heyward so that sometimes her soft hair brushed his face, or to make physical contact with him on the slightest pretext. And while he did not encourage her, neither did he object.

Equally clear was that the g
orgeous Krista was avail
able to Byron Stonebridge and the glamorous blonde Rhetta to Harold Austin.

The exquisitely beautiful Japanese girl Moonbeam was seldom more than a fey: feet away from G. G. Quartermain.

The Quartermain menage, one of a half dozen owned by the Supranational chairman in various countries, was on Prospero Ridge, high above Nassau city and with a panoramic view of land and sea The house was in landscaped grounds behind high stone walls. Heyward's room on the second floor, to which Avril escorted him on arrival, commanded the view. It also afforded a glimpse, through trees, of the house of a near-neighbor the prime minister, his privacy protected
by patrolling Royal Bahamian Police.

In late afternoon they had drinks beside a colonnaded swi
mming pool. Dinner followed, served on a
terrace out of doors, by candlelight. This time the girls, who had shed their uniforms and were superbly gowned, joined the men at table. Hovering white-gloved waiters sewed while two strolling players added music. Companionship and conversation flowed.

After dinner, while V
ice-President Stonebridge and K
rista elected to stay on at the house, the others entered a trio of Rolls-Royces cars which had met them at Nassau Airport earlier and were driven to the Paradise Island gambling casino. There Big George played heavily and appeared to win. Austin participated mildly, Roscoe Heyward not at all. Heyward disapproved of gambling but was interested in Avril's description of the finer
points of chemin de fe
r, roulette, and blackjack, which were new to him. Because of the hum of other conversations, Avril kept her face close to Heyward's while she talked and, as on the airplane earlier, he found the sensation not unpleasing

But then, with disconcerting suddenness, his body began taking greater cognizance of Avril so that ideas and inclinations which he knew to be reprehensible were increasingly hard to banish. He sensed Avril's amused awareness of his struggle, which failed to help. Finally, at his bedroom door to which she escorted him at 2 A.M., it was with the greatest effort of will particularly when she showed a willingness to linger that he did not invite her in.

Before Avril left for wherever her own room was, she swirled h
er red hair and told him,
smiling, "There's an intercom beside the bed. If there's anything you want, press button number seven and I
’
ll come." This time there was no doubt of what "anything" meant. And the number seven, it seemed, was a code for Avril wherever she might be.

Inexplicably his voice had thickened and his tongue seemed oversized as he informed her, "Thank you, no. Good night." Even then his inner conflict was not over. Undressing,
his thoughts returned to Avril and he saw to his chagrin that his body was undermining his will's resolve. It had been a long time since, unbidden, it had happened.

It was then that he had fallen on his knees and prayed to God to protect him from sin and relieve him of temptation. And after a while, i
t seemed, the prayer was an
swered. His body drooped with tiredness. Later still, he slept.

Now, as they drove down the sixth fairway, Big George volunteered, "Look, fella, tonight if you like I
’
ll send Moonbeam to you. A man wouldn't believe the tricks that little lotus blossom knows."

Heyward's face flushed. He decided to be firm "George, I'm enjoying your company and I'd like to have your friendship. But I must tell you that in certain areas our ideas differ." The big man's features stiffened. "In just what areas?" "I imagine, moral ones."

Big George considered, his face a mask. Then suddenly he guffawed. "Morals what
are they?" He stopped the cart
as the Honorable Harold prepared to hit from a fairway bunker on their left. "Okay, Roscoe, cut it your way. Just tell me if you change your mind."

Despite the firmness of his resolution, over the next two hours Heyward found h
is imagination turning to the
fragile and seductive Japanese girl.

At the end of nine holes, on the course, Big George re
sumed his fifth hole argument with Byron Stonebridge.

"The U.S. goverurnent and other governments," Big George declared, "are being run by those who don't, or won't, understand economic principles. It's a reason the only reason we have runaway inflation. It's why the world's money system is breaking down. It's why everything moneywise can only get worse."

"I'll go part way with you on that," Stonebridge told him. "The way Congress is spending money, you'd think the supply is inexhaustible. We've supposedly sane people in the House and Senate who believe that for eve
ry dollar coming in you can safel
y put out four or five."

Big George said impatiently, "Every businessman knows that. Known it for a generation. The question is not if, but when, will the American economy collapse?" "I'm not convinced it has to. We could still avert it."

"Could, but won't. Socialism which is spending money you don't have and never will is too deep-rooted. So there comes a point when government runs out of credit. Fools think it can't happen. But it will."

The Vice-President sighed. "In public I'd deny the truth of that. Here, among us privately, I can't."

"The sequence which is coming," Big George said, "is easy to predict. It'll be much the way things went in Chile. A good many think that Chile was different and remote. It wasn't. It was a small-scale model of the U.S.A. and
Canada and Britain."

The Honorable Harold ventured thoughtfully, "I agree with your point about sequence. First a democracy solid, world-acknowledged, and effective. Then
socialism, mild at first but
soon increasing. Money spent wildly until nothing's left. After that, financial ruin, anarchy, dictatorship."

"No matter how much in a hole we get," Byron Stonebridge said, "I'll not believe we'd go that far."

"We wouldn't need to," Big George told him. "Not if some of us with intelligence and power think ahead, and plan. When financial collapse comes, in the U.S. we've two strong arms to stop us short of anarchy. One is big business. By that I me
an a cartel of multi-national co
mpanics like mine, and big bank
s like yours and others,
which could run the country financially, exerting fiscal discipline. We would be solvent because of worldwide operation; we
'd have put our own resources wh
ere inflation didn't swallow them. The other strong arm is the military and police. In partnership with big business, they'd keep order."

The Vice-President said drily, "In other words, a police state. You might encounter opposition."

Big George shrugged. "Some maybe; not much. People will accept the inevitable. E
specially when democracy, so-call
ed, has split apart, the money system shattered,
individual purchasing power nil. Besides
that, Americans don't believe i
n democratic institutions any more. You politicians undermined them."

Roscoe Heyward had kept silent, listening. Now he said, "What you foresee, George, is an extension of the present military-industrial complex into an elitist government."

"Exactly! And industrial-military I prefer it that way is becoming stronger as American economics wealcen. And we've organization It's loose, but tightening fast."

"Eisenhower was first to recognize the military-industrial structure," Heyward said. "And warn against it," Byron Stonebridge added.

"Hell, yes!
" Big Ge
orge agreed. "And more fool him!
Ike, of all people, should have seen the possibilities for strength. Don't you?"

The Vice-President sipped his Planter's Punch. "This is off the record. But yes, I do."

"I
’
ll say this," Big George assured him, "you're one who should be joining us."