Brian Garfield: Villiers Touch

“Four hundred million.”

“Sweet Jesus,” Norman Fields ejaculated. Civetta’s eyes shifted toward him, but Civetta’s big head did not move.

All Civetta said was, “That’s a lot of money.”

“I’ve done business with the Chicago organization before. They know I don’t welsh on my debts. And I know how it’s done. I go to your bank, and if I want a one-thousand-dollar loan, I sign a two-thousand-dollar note. The note is legitimate, its terms are the usual bank terms and rates-but the only profit your bank shows on its books is the legal interest. The extra one thousand goes into your pockets. I’m willing to do business on that basis. Only, of course, when we’re talking about four hundred million, I’m not willing to pay you back double. What I’m offering is standard legal interest plus a twenty-five-percent profit. You lend me four hundred million, and I pay you back five hundred million. Plus legal interest on the four hundred million.”

Civetta didn’t give him a direct answer. He looked at Fields, and Fields said nothing. He said after a moment, “You don’t like me, Mr. Villiers.”

“Should I?”

“A lot of people seem to think it’s good politics to like me.”

“Civetta, I don’t like you, and I don’t dislike you. This is business, not personalities. I’m not asking to join your social club.”

“Point is,” Civetta said, “I don’t owe you a thing, Mr. Villiers, and you don’t even pretend you’re my friend. So why should I do you a favor? Why should I cut my vigorish rate down to one-quarter of the usual? You can have your four hundred million-all you got to do is, you pay me back eight hundred million. You see, I figure you can succeed if you get backing from me, and if you succeed, I know damn well you can afford to pay me eight hundred million. I’m a businessman too, Mr. Villiers. I know when I’m in a seller’s market, see?”

“I see, yes. It’s a matter of indifference to you, and you feel insulted that I should ask you into the deal when I don’t particularly like you, but it gets less insulting if I raise the ante from twenty-five percent to a hundred percent.”

“You’re real astute, Mr. Villiers. Now, you can tell me something else. Suppose I give you the four hundred million. What do you do with it?”

“I buy NCI.”

“Four hundred million don’t buy control of NCI, Mr. Villiers. It ain’t enough. I know my figures, see?”

“My tender offer of Heggins debentures buys the rest.”

“And what if it doesn’t? You come back to me for more money, right? I’m not a bottomless pit, Mr. Villiers. My assets are just as limited as the next guy’s.”

“You take my word for it or you don’t, Civetta. Would I ask for four hundred million if I wanted six or eight? What good would it do me to ask for less than it takes to do the job? The whole thing falls apart if I don’t end up with fifty-one percent of NCI. I think I can do it with three hundred million. But this thing’s too big to shave too close.”

Head down, Norman Fields pressed his hands together until Villiers heard the knuckles crack. Fields looked up and broke in, “Listen, I don’t like the whole-”

“Shut up, Norm. You’re out of order.” Civetta kept his eyes on Villiers. “Mr. Villiers, I’m in business because I learned a long time ago to find out what people need, and give it to them. Maybe sometimes the law don’t approve, but I supply the people’s needs, and I make a profit. Now, you come to me with a proposition, it means you got to make an offer that supplies my needs too. You get me? So far, you ain’t offered me nothing.”

“I’m offering you a chance to buy into one of the biggest legitimate corporations in the world. I think that entitles me to a break in your interest rates. You people have been bleeding for years to get a foothold in the top corporations. I’m offering it to you. Throw in with me, and I’ll repay the loan in NCI stock certificates. You’ll get your own people on the NCI board of directors. You can sit on the board yourself-you’ll have that right.”

Fields, staring at him, uttered an exultant noise of discovery and realization. Civetta shut him up with a wave of his hand. His hard eyes penetrated Villiers.

Finally Civetta said, “What you’re doing ain’t legal. We both know that. You’re operating on all kinds of inside information that’s never been released to the public. The federal boys could hang your ass if they could prove this on you.”

“Granted. They could hang your ass too if they knew everything about your operations. What of it?”

“What of it is just this, Mr. Villiers. Suppose the federal boys walk into your office one morning and haul you down to the Tombs. Okay, they futz around a while, and maybe they end up letting you go because you got a good lawyer. But in the meantime, your NCI pipe dream goes down the tubes, and I’m left holding an empty bag where I used to have four hundred million bucks.”

“I’m taking the bigger risk. If I can take it, you can take it. I’m not asking you to bleed, Civetta. I’m only asking for a loan. You stand to lose your investment every time you lend money. You take the risk because you’re getting good interest rates and you’re getting other considerations. What’s four hundred million to you? I’ve got every dime I own on the line, and my life with it.”

“That’s your lookout, not mine, Mr. Villiers. But I’ll tell you what we’d be willing to do. We’d go it for sixty percent instead of a hundred.”

Villiers shook his head. “No. Twenty-five percent. I’m not going to haggle.”

“You got someplace else to go for the money, maybe?” Civetta smiled slowly. “You see, Mr. Villiers, you got no place else to go at all. Because I’m a bighearted man I’ll give it to you for fifty percent, all inclusive. No extra interest on top. You borrow four hundred mil, you pay me back six hundred mil, on a deadline of three months. If it goes more than three months, you pay me five million a month until you pay off the principal. Take it, Mr. Villiers, or leave it.”

“I’ll take it,” Villiers said.

“Which means it was the figure you had in mind all the time, am I right?”

“What does it matter? Put as much of it as you want on paper, and I’ll sign it in the morning.”

Norman Fields said, “I’ll have the papers in my office for you at nine.” He stirred, ready to rise, but Villiers’ eyes jammed him back down in his seat.

“I’m not finished. It’s my ball game, Civetta, and you’ll play it by my rules as long as we’re in my ball park. If you think you can steal a base, you go ahead and try. You can’t steal a base if you’re not in the game at all.”

“Absolutely, Mr. Villiers,” Civetta purred. “Absolutely.”

Suddenly Villiers grinned at him. “It’s going to be interesting, you and me.”

“You’re right, Mr. Villiers. Interesting as hell. Let’s go, Norm.”

They left the picnic clearing single file. In the darkness Villiers’ face rode high, a hard smile of triumph on his mouth. He had whipped the world again. He pictured himself in the big chair on the forty-eighth floor, behind the massive oak door with its discreet small golden letters, Chairman of the Board. It was time to plant his roots in the epic fashion for which he had held off throughout the years; as long as he had been building toward the summit, he had wasted little money on luxuries when he still needed it for capital growth. Now he allowed himself to think ahead. He would keep a yacht at anchorage off Palm Beach with a year-round crew of six living on board even if he didn’t set foot on its decks for five years at a time. He would have his own Lear Jet (twenty thousand dollars a month maintenance costs alone) and a duplex apartment on Sutton Place, a house in Bermuda, a house in Palm Beach, and a Putnam County estate complete with riding stables, tennis courts, swimming pool, golf course, slot machines, and garages to house his proud collection of antique and classic cars.