Гарольд Роббинс - The Raiders

"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."