'This terrible news your doctor gave you.'
'Not yet It's not easy over the phone.'
'You'll wait, then?'
'Davey doesn't need to be told at this stage. Maybe not at all.'
Frowning, Leapman said, 'But you just told
'Weren't you listening just now?' said Manny. 'About management being thrust upon him? It's better he doesn't have time to think about it. Knowing Davey, he'd look for an out'
Leapman didn't pursue the point Maybe Manny was right from the company's point of view, given the staggering premise that David Flexner had to be installed as the next Chairman. What was the point in getting steamed up about David's sensibilities when his own had been ruthlessly trampled over?
And now the misguided old jerk was weighing the group's prospects without mentioning the obvious fact that Manflex might be vulnerable to a takeover. 'We're lower down the league than I'd like to be, but we're not in bad shape right now. We still have a good cash flow.'
'Mainly from Kaprofix.'
'What's wrong with Kaprofix? It's helped millions of people with angina.'
'Nothing-except that it's a declining asset.'
'Since I put the lid on development costs, we boosted the operating margin by 2.6 points. You talk about Kaprofix as if it's all we've got. We have a wide base of steady-selling products. The surplus from the pension fund was over ten million last year. Sure, we could do with a big-selling new drug-'
'Soon,' said Leapman.
'What?'
'Soon-we could do with it soon.'
'I wouldn't argue with that.'
Leapman wasn't letting it pass so lightly. 'We missed out on beta-blockers, salbutamol for asthma, L-dopa for Parkinson's, H2-antagonists-'
'Okay, okay,' said Manny irritably. 'I get the point. We staked too much on Fidoxin. That was the biggest fuckup of my career. On the other hand, we've got a clean record. No one ever sued us. I can meet my Maker knowing I never damaged anyone through negligence.'
'Leaving aside environmental damage,' Leapman couldn't stop himself saying.
'What do you mean?'
'We did get fined for polluting French and Italian rivers.'
'Piss off, Michael.'
They walked on in silence for a bit, each feeling the strain of the changed situation.
'Will you say anything to the Board while Davey's away?' Leapman eventually asked.
'About my condition? There's no need. I'll step down and then they'll find out.'
'So you want me to regard it as confidential?'
'For the time being. How did I come to confide in an obstinate schmuck like you? What a mess.' He turned and looked at Leapman. There was just a glimmer of amusement in the look, yet the rest of the face was sad, undeniably sad. This time, Manny Flexner wasn't kidding.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Three black limousines cruised along the stretch of Central Park West near the reservoir and presently halted and disgorged a number of large men in a motley collection of tracksuits. Enough for a football team, except that a football team would never have looked so ill at ease. They were peeking over their shoulders as if someone they knew might be spying on this freak show. The last to climb out of the front car was Massimo Gatti, a man of influence in the Italian-American community-or at least that section of it that requires round-the-clock bodyguards. Unlike them, Gatti was short and overweight, with high blood pressure, which was why he had taken up jogging.
As a preliminary, he went through a token exercise to limber up, flinging bis arms outwards like a cheerleader and simultaneously running in place. Some of the others in the party attempted sheepishly to do the same. Then Gatti moved off at a sedate jog, and with his henchmen in tow he could easily have been taken for a shorter, fatter embodiment of a recent President of the United States.
As usual in the park, New York's fitness freaks were out in force. This morning Michael Leapman was among them. He'd asked for an urgent audience with Gatti, and this was the arrangement, a refreshing variation on the working breakfast. Having spotted the group, he raised his pace and strode across to meet them. He was one of those envied beings who rarely take exercise, but succeed in keeping in shape.
'Hi, Mr. Gatti.'
They had met before, through a chain of intermediaries too tedious to list. Leapman's inside knowledge of the drug industry-the legitimate drug industry-had appealed to Gatti. In the depressed world of finance, pharmaceuticals were one of the few commodities that promised good returns. Medical supplies were necessities, and as nearly recession-proof as anything could be. A stake in the industry was what Leapman had offered, and Gatti had found it irresistible.
Gatti may have nodded in response to the greeting, or the dip of the head may have been part of his running action. It wasn't in his nature to greet people, even in less demanding circumstances. After just a few minutes of slow jogging, he was moving with a spastic jerkiness and taking noisy gulps of air.
A long exchange was clearly out of the question, so Leapman drew alongside and came quickly to the point 'There's a hitch in our arrangement, I'm sorry to say.'
Gatti stopped jogging and turned away from Leapman, flapping his hands at his entourage to step back and give him some privacy. They reversed several paces. The procession set off again with a decent gap in the ranks.
'What are you trying to tell me?'
Leapman resumed, 'Manny Flexner saw his doctor for a checkup and found that he has only a few months to live.'
'So?'
'So that's the problem.'
'His problem, not mine,' Gatti wheezed.
'With respect, it isn't so simple as mat He says he's going to step down.'
'Resign?'
'Yes.'
'What's wrong with that?'
'He wants to nominate his son to replace him.'
'He has a son?'
'Yes.'
'You didn't tell me.'
'I'm sorry, Mr. Gatti. I know I should have mentioned k before now. I didn't rate David Flexner at all. He takes no interest in the business.'
'Is he on the Board?'
'Yes, but-'
'You didn't rate him, huh?'
'Well, no.'
'Flexner's own son? You didn't rate him?'
The questions appeared to indict Leapman and he was becoming alarmed. 'He sits through the Board meetings and says nothing,' he said in his own defense.
Massimo Gatti stopped running again. The pursuers stopped, too far off to overhear anything. Leapman stood tamely, waiting for Gatti to recover his bream. 'We made an agreement, Mr. Leapman,' the little man eventually
