Arthur Hailey - The Moneychangers

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As the novel begins, the position of CEO of one of America's largest banks, First Mercantile American (very loosely based on the Bank of America, although it is located in an unnamed Midwestern city) is about to become vacant due to the terminal illness of Ben Roselli, the incumbent chief, whose grandfather founded the bank. Two high-ranking executives groomed for the succession begin their personal combat for the position. One, Alex Vandervoort, is honest, hard-charging, and focused on growing FMA through retail banking and embracing emerging technology; the other, Roscoe Heyward, is suave, hypocritical, and skilled in boardroom politics, and favors catering more to business than to consumers.
As readers increasingly appreciate Vandervoort, the protagonist, they learn of his troubled personal life. His advancement in banking circles has come as his marriage is failing; his wife is confined to a psychiatric facility. Vandervoort is shown as having developed a relationship with Margot Bracken, who is depicted as a radical attorney and political activist many years his junior; her attitudes sometime conflicts with Vandervoort's role at FMA. Meanwhile, Vandervoort's antagonist, Hayward, is depicted as a devout Episcopalian who strives to maintain an air of personal integrity and morality, only to slowly sacrifice them both in his pursuit of the presidency of FMA.
As these men pursue their battle for the soon-to-be-vacant position of CEO, various issues involving the banking industry, such as credit card fraud, embezzlement, inflation, subprime lending, and insider trading are discussed. First Mercantile American is eventually revealed to have a doppelganger in the form of an organized crime family.
The fight for control of the bank continues under the darkening clouds of an approaching economic recession. One of the two CEO contenders is brought down for his role in making a large loan to a dishonest multinational conglomerate (loosely based on International Telephone and Telegraph) that goes into default. The ensuing scandal causes panic among depositors, shareholders, and employees, with the perpetrator committing suicide rather than face the consequences of his actions. The other candidate assumes the position of CEO of the half-ruined bank.

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There was a silence. Margot's voice asked,

"Alex, are you still listening?" "Yes, I'm here."

"After that, I phoned the bank again and this time talked to Edwina. She's checked personally. Not only has Juanita not appeared, she hasn't phoned in, which isn't like her.

That's why I'm worried. I'm convinced something's gone terribly, terribly wrong."

"Do you have any ideas?"

"Yes," Margot said. "The same one you have."

"Wait," he told her. "Nolan's here." Wainwright had hunched forward, listening.

Now he straightened and said quietly, "Nunez has been picked up.

There isn't any doubt of it." "By?"

"By someone from that Double-Seven crowd.

They're probably on to Eastin, too." "You think they've taken her to that club?"

"No. That's the last thing they'll do. She's somewhere else."

"Do you have any idea where?" “No” "And whoever it is has the child, too?"

"I'm afraid so."

There was anguish in Wainwright's eyes.

"I'm sorry, Alex." "You got us into this," Alex said fiercely.

"Now, for God's sake, you've got to get Juanita and the kid out of it!" Wainwright was concentrating, thinking as he spoke.

"The first thing is to see if there's a chance of warning Eastin.

If we can get to him, and get him out, he might know something which could lead us to the girl."

He had a small black notebook open and was already reaching for another phone.

20

It happened so swiftly and was so totally unexpected that car doors had slammed, the big black limousine was moving, before she had a chance to cry out.

By then Juanita knew instinctively it was too late, but screamed just the same

"Help! Help!" until a fist slammed savagely into her face, followed by a gloved hand clamped across her mouth.

Even then, hearing Estela's shriek of terror alongside her, Juanita went on struggling until the fist hit hard a second time and vision blurred while sounds receded far away.

The day a clear, fresh, early-November morning had begun normally. Juanita and Estela were up in time to have breakfast, then watch the NBC Today news on their small black and white portable.

After that, they hurried to leave as usual at 7:30, which allowed Juanita just enough time to accompany Estela to nursery school before catching a bus to downtown and the bank.

Juanita always liked mornings, and being with Estela was a joyous way to start any day. Coming out of the building, Estela had skipped ahead, calling back,

"Mommy, I'm missing all the lines," and Juanita smiled because evading lines and cracks in the sidewalk was a game they often played. It was about then that Juanita took vague notice of the dark-windowed limousine parked just ahead, with its rear curbside door open.

She had taken more notice, though, as Estela neared the car and someone inside it spoke to her. Estela moved closer.

As she did, a hand reached out and yanked the little girl inside.

Instantly, Juanita had run to the car door. Then, from behind, a figure whom she hadn't seen dosed in and shoved Juanita hard, making her trip and fall forward into the car, scraping her legs painfully.

Before she could recover, Juanita was dragged inside and pushed to the floor with Estela.

The door behind her slammed, also a door in front, and the car was moving.

Now, as her head cleared and full consciousness returned, she heard a voice say,

"For chrissakes, why ya bring the goddammed kid?"

"Hadda do it. If we don't, the kid's gonna make a big fat fuss, then some jerk hollers cops.

This way we got away clear, fast, no sweat."

Juanita stirred. Hot knives of pain, originating where she had been hit, surged through her head.

She moaned. "Listen, bitchI" a third voice said.

"Ya make trouble, y'll get hurt plenty more.

And don't get ideas about anyone outside seeint in. This car's got one-way glass."

Juanita lay still, fighting off panic, forcing herself to think.

There were three men in the car, two on the back seat above her, one in front.

The remark about one-way glass explained her earlier impression of a big car with dark windows. So what had been said was right: It was no good trying to attract attention.

Where were she and Estela being taken?

And why? Juanita had not the least doubt that the answer to the second question had something to do with her arrangement with Miles. What she had dreaded had come true.

She was, she realized, in gravest peril.

But, Mother of God.' why Estela?

The two of them were sandwiched together on the car floor,

Estela's body heaving in desperate sobs. Juanita moved, trying to hold and comfort her.

"There, amorcito! Be brave, little one."

"Shaddup!" one of the men commanded. Another voice she believed the driver's said,

"Better gag and blindfold 'em." Juanita felt movements, heard a cloth-like substance tear.

She pleaded frantically, "Please, no! I’ll…"

The remaining words were lost as a wide adhesive tape was slapped over her mouth and pressed down. Moments later a dark cloth covered her eyes; she felt it being fastened tightly.

Next her hands were seized and tied behind her.

Cords cut her wrists. There had been dust on the car floor which filled Juanita's nostrils; unable to see or move, choking under the gag, she blew frantically to clear her nose and breathe.

From other movements beside her she sensed the same treatment was being meted out to Estela.

Despair enveloped her.

Tears of rage, frustration filled her eyes.

Damn you, Wainwrightl Damn you, Miles

Where are you now?.. . Why had she ever agreed… made it possible…

Oh, why? Why?.. . Mother of God, please help me

And if not me, save Estelal As time passed, with pain and helplessness increasing,

Juanita's thoughts drifted. She was aware vaguely of the car moving slowly, stopping and starting as if in traffic, then of a long burst of speed followed by more slowness, twists, and turns.

The journey, wherever it was to, seemed endless. After perhaps an hour or was it much more or even much less?

Juanita felt the force of brakes applied fully.

Momentarily the car's motor was louder, as if in a confined space.

Then the motor stopped. She heard an electric hum, a rumble as if a heavy door was closing mechanically,a "thunk" as the rumble stopped.

SimultaneousIy the limousine's doors clicked open, hinges creaked and she was pulled roughly to her feet and impelled forward.

Juanita stumbled, striking her legs painfully again, and would have fallen, but hands seized her.

One of the voices she had already heard ordered,

"Goddamn' walk"

With the blindfold still in place, moving clumsily, her fears remained centered on Estela.

She was conscious of footsteps her own, others resounding on concrete.

Suddenly the floor fell away and she stumbled, partly held, partly shoved down stairs.

At the bottom, more walking.

Abruptly she was pushed backward off balance, her legs shooting out until the fall was stopped by a hard wooden chair.

The same voice as before told someone,

"Take off the shade and tape."

She felt the movement of hands, and fresh pain as the tape was pulled carelessly away from her mouth. The blindfold loosened, then Juanita blinked as darkness gave way to a bright light directed into her eyes. She gasped only, ''Por Dios! where is my…" when a fist struck her.

"Save the singing," one of the car voices said.

"When we tell ye, y'll spill plenty."

There were certain things which Tony Bear Marino liked.

One was erotic sex by his standards, erotic meant things women did to him which made him feel superior and themselves degraded.

Another was cockfighting the bloodier the better.

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