best choice for stepping through ashes. Rico always dressed the part of the business executive, but David, casual as usual in white denims, black T-shirt and faded red running shoes, regarded him as a kindred spirit, one of the few in his father's employ that he might actually have chosen to drink with.
'Some electrical fault, I guess,' Rico answered. 'Isn't that what usually starts a fire?'
'Or a lighted cigarette.'
'I don't allow smoking here.'
In that gutted ruin, Rico's use of the present tense amused David. He had to turn his face away in case Rico noticed. 'Smokers will always find somewhere.'
'That's true, but the Saturday shift had finished when the fire started. The plant was empty except for the two security guards.'
'A fire can take some time to get going,' David pointed out, adding with more tact, 'but I guess the fire service is making a report.'
'The fire team and the insurance investigators, too,' said Rico. 'The boys from Prima Roma Assurance came out here the next day to see what they could find.'
'Any theories yet?'
'Nothing anyone will say.'
'How about arson? Someone with a grudge against the company.'
'Arson?'
'Was anyone dismissed in the last six months?'
Rico was shocked. He pressed his hand to his mouth as if unwilling to admit the possibility. 'I guess five or six for absenteeism and petty theft. The personnel records went up in smoke with the rest. We won't have their addresses anymore.'
'Then the computer wasn't linked to our offices in Rome?'
'Some files were. Not personnel. That's against the data protection legislation.'
'We'll have to rely on memory, then. How's yours, Rico?'
Rico made a negative gesture.
'Let's check with some of the people who worked in personnel. Draw up a list of everyone they can remember who was fired and anyone else with reason to dislike the company.'
'I'll see to it'
'Fine.' David stared around at the devastation. 'Must have been one hell of a fire. Where was your office in this heap?'
'To your right, approximately sixty meters,' Rico answered bleakly. 'Nobody would know.'
'Lose anything personal?'
He shrugged. 'My certificates. I had them framed on the wall. Membership of the Institute of Pharmacists and so forth. They can be replaced. And some photos of my family. They can't.'
'What will you do? Do you want to move to Rome?'
'Not really. I'm fifty-three. My home is here. My father is in a retirement home. I have kids in school. I guess I'll look carefully at the redundancy terms.'
'Jesus, Rico, we can't afford to lose you,' David heard himself say, and it was a perfectly obvious thing to say, except that he surprised himself by so readily taking on the role of spokesman for Manflex. Until now, he'd never truly identified with the company. He only attended Board meetings out of loyalty to his father. 'We'll find some way of keeping the family together. For the present, you're wanted here in Milan, so no problem. We need a temporary office. Can you find one?'
'Michael, I'm dying.'
Michael Leapman jerked around to look at Manny Flexner. There was no hint of amusement in his features, but that wasn't necessarily significant. Manny was capable of the straightest face when stringing hapless people along. He was a shameless liar in the cause of fun. And Manny's style of humor frequently eluded Leapman.
At Manny's suggestion, they were walking through the Essex Street Covered Market in the Lower East Side after lunching on blintzes and beer in Ratner's. This place throbbing with life, filled with pungent aromas of breads and cheeses, hardly seemed right for such a morbid announcement, but you could never be sure what Manny was up to.
'Did I hear you correctly?'
'How would I know?'
'I thought you said you were dying.'
'Correct.'
'You really mean that?'
Manny nodded solemnly. 'I saw my physician this morning. He sent me for tests a while back. Now he has the results. It's inoperable. I have maybe six months, maybe nine.'
Leapman stared at him. There was still no indication that some kind of black humor was intended. 'But that's not possible.'
'Precisely what I said to the doc. I have my faculties. I can read the paper still, eat a good meal, take a woman to bed when I want, and I don't disappoint I'm not the biggest in that department, but what I got is in working order. He said fine, some people aren't so lucky. They languish and droop. At least I was going out in style. I said I didn't believe him. He asked if I wanted to bet I said okay, Doc, fifty bucks I'm still alive for Thanksgiving. I thought I was on a sure thing, but he suggested we put the money in a bfown envelope and leave it with his receptionist because he didn't want to trouble my executors. That really brought it home to me, Michael. My executors. He meant it.' Manny exhaled, vibrating his lips. 'I called off the bet.'
'You should get a second opinion,' said Leapman, trying sincerely to be helpful while he assessed what this grim news would mean for his own prospects. He believed the story.
'More tests, more bad news.' Manny groaned at the prospect. 'No thanks. I'd rather spend my last days on earth profitably, robbing banks while I have my strength left.' He turned to a woman behind a fruit and vegetable stall. She must have overheard the last statement, because she was goggle-eyed. 'Ignore me. I'm in shock. How much are your pineapples, ma'am?' He chose one and felt it for firmness. 'Do you buy many pineapples, Michael? They can look fine outside, like me, and when you put in the knife, they're rotten. No offense,' he told the woman. 'I'll take this.one.'
They reached the end of the market and made their way back down Delancey Street. 'Still, this isn't all bad for Man-flex,' Manny remarked altruistically. 'We can do with a change at the top.'
Leapman's flesh prickled.
Manny went on smoothly. 'My shares will pass to Davey. He'll have a controlling stake, and he'll be fine.'
'For Chairman, you mean? David?' Leapman tried to sound casual, but the shock couldn't be stifled.
'I can't put it better than Shakespeare: some guys are born managers, some achieve management and some, like my son, have it thrust upon them.'
'The market won't like it,' said Leapman, impervious to Shakespeare.
'Davey taking over, you mean?'
'Your going.' An answer more tactful than honest.
'What choice do I have?'
A pause. 'Fair point.'
'He'll need your support,' Manny said.
'He can depend on it.'
'And the know-how. You have a grasp of the business. He doesn't'
'Of course I'll help any way I can.' Michael Leapman was functioning on autopilot. The news of Manny's illness was bad enough. The prospect of his son taking over the Chairmanship was beyond everything.
Manny shifted the pineapple to his left hand and rested his right on Leapman's shoulder. 'Thanks, Mike. You don't have to tell me the sharks will be circling, but I have confidence in the boy. I like the way he's shaping up. As a matter of fact, I called Rico last night. Davey's doing a great job in Milan, and that isn't easy, closing down a plant'
It was a skill that might soon be required nearer home, Leapman thought cynically. 'Have you told him?'
'Told him what?'
