Roscoe Heyward, leaving the boardroom just ahead of Alex, was accosted by a uniformed bank messenger who handed him a sealed envelope. Heyward ripped it open and took out a folded message slip. Reading it, he brightened visibly, glanced at his watch, and smiled. Alex wondered why.
13
The note was a simple one. Typed by Roscoe's trusted senior secretary, Dora Callaghan, it informed him that Miss Deveraux had telephoned, leaving word she was in town and would like him to call as soon as possible. The note supplied a phone number and extension.
Heyward recognized the number: the Columbia Hilton Hotel. Miss Deveraux was Avril.
They had met twice since the trip to the Bahamas a month and a half ago. Both times it had been at the Columbia Hilton. And on each occasion, as well as during that night in Nassau when he had pressed button number seven to bring Avril to his room, she had taken him to a kind of paradise, a place of sexual ecstasy such as he had never dreamed existed. Avril knew incredible things to do to a man which during that original night had at first shocked and then delighted him. Later, her skill aroused wave after wave of sensual pleasure until he had cried out in sheer joy, using words which he did not know he knew. Afterward Avril had been gentle, caressing, loving, and patient, until, to his surprise and exultation, he was aroused once more.
It was then he began to realize, with an awareness which had heightened since, how much of life's passion and glory the mutual exploring, uplifting, sharing, giving, and receiving he and Beatrice had never known.
For Roscoe and Beatrice his discovery had come too late, though perhaps for Beatrice it was a discovery she never would have wanted. But there was time still for Roscoe and Avril; on the occasions since Nassau they had proved it. He glanced at his watch, smiling the smile which Vandervoort had seen.
He'd go to Avril as soon as possible, of course. It would mean rearranging his schedule for this afternoon and evening, but no matter. Even now, the thought of seeing her once more excited him, so that his body was stirring and reacting like a youth's.
On a few occasions since the affair with Avril began, conscience had trouped him. During recent Sundays in church, the text he had read aloud before going to the Bahamas came back to haunt him: Righteousness exalteth a nation: but sin is a reproach to any people. At such moments he consoled himself with the words of Christ in the Gospel of St. John: He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone… And: I judge no man. Heyward even permitted himself to reflect with a levity which not long ago would have appalled him that the Bible, like statistics, could be used to prove anything.
In any case, debate was immaterial. The intoxication with Avril was stronger than any stab of conscience.
Walking from the boardroom to his office suite on the same floor, he reflected, glowing: A session with Avril would consummate a triumphal day, with his Supranational proposals approved and his professional prestige at a zenith with the board. He had, of course, been disarm pointed at this afternoon's outcome and downright angry at what he saw as Harold Austin's betrayal, though he had deduced at once the selfish reasoning behind it. However, Heyward had little fear that Vandervoort's ideas would produce much real success. The plus-effect on bank profits this year of his own Supranational arrangements would be far, far greater. Which reminded him he must make a decision about the additional half million dollars requested by Big George Quartermain as a further loan to Q- Investments.
Roscoe Heyward frowned slightly. He supposed in the whole matter of Q-Investments there was some mild irregularity, though in view of the bank's commitment to Supranational, and vice versa, it didn't seem too serious. He had raised the matter in a confidential memo to Jerome Patterton a month or so ago.
G.G. Quartermain of Supranational phoned me twice yesterday from New York about a personal project of his called Q-Investments. This is a small private group of which Quartermain (Big George) is the principal, and our own director, Harold Austin, is a member. The group has already bought large blocks of common stock of various Supranational enterprises at advantageous terms. More purchases are planned.
What Big George wants from us is a loan to Q-Investments of $1 million at the same low rate as the Supranational loan, though without any requirement of a compensating balance. He points out that the SuNatCo compensating balance will be ample to offset this personal loan which is true, though of course there is no cross guarantee.
I might mention that Harold Austin also telex phoned me to urge that the loan be made.
The Honorable Harold, in fact, had bluntly reminded Heyward of a quid pro quota debt for Austin's strong support at the time of Ben Rosselli's death. It was a support which Heyward would continue to need when Patterton the interim Pope retired in eight months' time. The memo to Patterton continued:
Frankly, the interest rate on this proposed loan is too low, and waiving a compensating balance would be a large concession. But in view of the Supranational business which Big George has given us, I think we would be wise to go along. I recommend the loan. Do you agree?
Jerome Patterton had sent the memo back with a laconic penciled Yes against the final question. Knowing Patterton, Heyward doubted if he had given the whole thing more than a cursory glance.
Heyward had seen no reason why Alex Vandervoort need be involved, nor was the loan large enough to require approval by the money policy committee. Therefore, a few days later, Roscoe Heyward had initialed approval himself, which he had authority to do.
What he did not have authority for and had reported to no one was a personal transaction between himself and G. G. Quartermain.
During their second telephone conversation about Qlnvestments, Big George calling from a SuNatCo offshbot in Chicago had said, 'Been talking to Harold Austin about you, Roscoe. We both think it’s time you got involved in our investment group. Like to have you with us. So what I've done is allot two thousand shares which we'll regard as fully paid for. They're nominee certificates endorsed in blank more discreet that way. I'll have 'em put in the mail.'
Heyward had demurred. 'Thank you, George, but I don't believe I should accept.' 'For Chrissakes, why not?' - 'It would be unethical.'
Big George had guffawed. 'This is the real world, Roscoe. Same kind of thing happens between clients and bankers all the time. You know it. I know it.'
Yes, Heyward knew, it did happen, though not 'all the time,' as Big George claimed, and Heyward had never let it happen to himself.
Before he could answer, Quartermain persisted, 'Listen, fella, don't be a damn fool. If it makes you feel better well say the shares are in return for your investment advice.'
But Heyward knew he had given no investment advice, either then or subsequently.
A day or two later, the Q-Investments share certificates arrived by registered airmail, in an envelope with elaborate seals, and marked STRICTLY PERSONAL AND CONFIDENTIAL. even Dora Callaghan hadn't opened that one.
At home that evening, studying the Q-Investments financial statement which Big George had also supplied, Heyward realized his two thousand shares had a net asset value of twenty thousand dollars. Later, if Q-Investments prospered or went public, their worth would be much greater.
At that point he had every intention of returning the shares to G. G. Quartermain; then, reassessing his own precarious finances no better than they had been several months ago he hesitated. Finally he yielded to temptation and later that week put the certificates in his safe deposit box at FMA's main downtown branch. It was not, Heyward rationalized, as if he had deprived the bank of money. He hadn't. In fact, because of Supranational, the reverse was true. So if Big George chose to make a friendly gift, why be churlish and refuse it?
But his acceptance still worried him a little, especially since Big George had telephoned at the end of last week this time from Amsterdam seeking an additional half million dollars for Q-Investments. 'There's a unique chance for our Q group to pick up a block of stock over here in Guilderland that's certain to be high flying. Can't say too much on an open line, Roscoe, so trust me.'
'I do, of course, George,' Heyward had said, 'but the bank will need details.'
'You'll get 'em by courier tomorrow.' To which Big George had added pointedly, 'Don't forget you're one of us now.'
Briefly, Heyward had a second uneasy feeling: G. G. Quartermain might be paying more attention to his private investments than to management of Supranational. But the next day's news had reassured him. The Wall Street Journal and other papers carried prominent stories about a major, Quartermain-engineered industrial
