24
In the fifteen days since official investigation was begun by the SEC into the labyrinthine finances of Supranational, Roscoe Heyward had prayed for a miracle to avert total catastrophe. Heyward himself attended meetings with other SuNatCo creditors, their objective to keep the multinational giant operating and viable if they could. It had proven impossible.
The more deeply investigators probed, the worse the financial debacle appeared. It seemed probable, too, that criminal charges of fraud would eventually be laid against some of Supranational's officers, including G. G. Quartermain, assuming Big George could ever be enticed back from his Costa Rica hideaway at the moment an unlikely prospect.
Therefore, in early November, a petition of bankruptcy under Section 77 of the Bankruptcy Act was filed on behalf of Supranational Corporation.
Though it had been expected and feared, the immediate repercussions were worldwide. Several large creditors, as well as associated companies and many individuals, were considered likely to go down the drain along with SuNatCo.
Whether First Mercantile American Bank would be one of them, or if the bank could survive its enormous loss, was still an open question.
No longer an open question as Heyward fully realized was the subject of his own career. At FMA, as the author of the greatest calamity in the bank's one-hundred year history, he was virtually finished. What remained at issue was whether he, personally, would be legally liable under regulations of the Federal Reserve, the Comptroller of the Currency, and the SEC.
Obviously, there were those who thought so. Yesterday, an SEC official, whom Heyward knew well, advised him,
'Roscoe, as a friend, I suggest you get yourself a lawyer.' In his office, soon after the opening of the business day, Heyward's hands trembled as he read The Wall Street Journal's page one story on the Supranational bankruptcy petition.
He was interrupted by his senior secretary, Mrs. Callaghan. 'Mr. Heyward Mr. Austin is here.' Without waiting to be told, Harold Austin hurried in. In contrast to his normal role, the aging playboy today merely looked an overdressed old man. His face was drawn, serious, and pale; pouches beneath his eyes were rings of age and lack of sleep.
He wasted no time in preliminaries. 'Have you heard anything from Quartermain?' Heyward motioned to the Journal.
'Only what I read.' In the past two weeks he had tried several times to telephone Big George in Costa Rica, without success.
The SuNatCo chairman was staying incommunicado. Reports filtering out described him as living in feudal splendor, with a small army of thugs to guard him, and said he had no intention, ever, of returning to the United States.
It was accepted that Costa Rica would not respond to U.S. extradition proceedings, as other swindlers and fugitives had already proved.
'I'm going down the tube,' the Honorable Harold said. His voice was close to breaking. 'I put the family trust heavily into SuNatCo and I'm in hock myself for money I raised to buy Q-Investments.'
'What about Q-Investments?' Heyward had tried to find out earlier the status of Ouartermain's private group which owed two million dollars to FMA in addition to the fifty million owing by Supranational. 'You mean you didn't hear?' Heyward flared, 'If I did, would I be asking?' 'I found out last night from Inchbeck. That son of a bitch Quartermain sold out all Q-Investments holdings mostly stock in SuNatCo subsidiaries when the group share prices were at their peak.
There must have been a swimming pool full of cash.'
Including FMA's two million, Heyward thought. He asked,
'What happened to it?' 'The bastard transferred everything into offshore shell companies of his own, then moved the money out of them, so all Q-Investments is left with is shares in the shells just worthless paper.'
To Heyward's disgust, Austin began to blubber. 'The real money… my money… could be in Costa Rica, the Bahamas, Switzerland… Roscoe, you've got to help me get it back… Otherwise I'm floished… broke.' Heyward said tersely, 'There's no way I can help you,
Harold.' He was worried enough about his own part in Q-Investments without concerning himself with Austin's. 'But if you hear anything new… if there's any hope…' 'If there is, I'll let you know.' As quickly as he could, Heyward eased Austin out of the office. He had no sooner gone than Mrs. Callaghan said on the intercom, 'There's a reporter calling from Newsday.
His name is Endicott. It's about Supranational and he says it's important that he speak to you personally.' 'Tell him I have nothing to say, and to call the PR department.'
Heyward remembered Dick French's admonition to the senior officers:
The press win try to contact you individually… refer every caller to me. At least that was one burden he need not bear. Moments later he heard Dora Callaghan's voice again.
''I'm sorry, Mr. Heyward.' 'What is it?' 'Mr. Endicott is still on the line.
He asked me to say to you: Do you wish him to discuss Miss Avril Deveraux with the PR department, or would you prefer to talk about her yourself?' Heyward snatched up a phone.
'What is all this?' 'Good morning, sir,' a quiet voice said. 'I apologize for disturbing you. This is Bruce Endicott of Newsday.'
'You told my secretary…' 'I told her, sir, that I thought there were some things you'd prefer me to check with you personally, rather than lay them out for Dick French.' Was there a subtle emphasis on the word 'lay'? Heyward wasn't sure.
He said, 'I'm extremely busy. I can spare a few minutes, that's all.' 'Thank you, Mr. Heyward. I'll be as brief as I can. Our paper has been doing some investigating of Supranational Corporation. As you know, there's a good deal of public interest and we're running a major story on the subject tomorrow. Among other things, we're aware of the big loan to SuNatCo by your bank. I've talked to Dick French about that.' 'Then you have all the information you need.'
'Not quite, sir. We understand from other sources that you personally negotiated the Supranational loan, and there's a question of when the subject first came up.
By that I mean when did SuNatCo first ask for the money? Do you happen to remember?' 'I'm afraid I don't. I deal with many large loans.'
'Surely not too many for fifty million dollars.' 'I think I already answered your question.' 'I wonder if I could help, sir. Could it have been on a trip to the Bahamas in March?
A trip you were on with Mr. Quartermain, Vice-President-Stonebridge, and some others?' Heyward hesitated. 'Yes, it might have been.'
'Could you say definitely that it was?' The reporter's tone was deferential, but it was clear he would not be put off with evasive answers.
'Yes, I remember now. It was.' 'Thank you, sir. On that particular trip, I believe, you traveled in Mr. Quartermain's private jet a 707?' 'Yes.'
'With a number of young lady escorts.' 'I'd hardly say they were escorts. I vaguely recall several stewardesses being aboard.' 'Was one of them Miss Avril Deveraux? Did you meet her then, and also in the several days which followed in the Bahamas?'
'I may have done. The name you mentioned seems familiar.' 'Mr. Heyward, forgive me for putting it this way, but was Miss Deveraux offered to you sexually in return for your sponsorship of the Supranational loan?'
'Certainly not!' Heyward was sweating now, the hand holding the telephone shaking. He wondered how much this smooth-voiced inquisitor really knew. Of course, he could end the conversation here and now; perhaps he should, though if he did he would go on wondering, not knowing. 'But did you, sir, as a result of that trip to the Bahamas, form a friendship with Miss Deveraux?'
'I suppose you could can it that. She is a pleasant, charming person.'
'Then you do remember her?' He had walked into a trap. He conceded, 'Yes.' 'Thank you, sir. By the way, have you met Miss Deveraux subsequently?'
The question was asked casually. But this man Endicott knew. Trying to keep a tremor out of his voice,
