'But then he looked up Plumb's job history and found out companies lies' been associated with tend not to live long. So maybe Jones has changed his style and is going for slash and burn.'
'Plumb is a slash-and-burn man,' he said. 'Got a long history of setting up companies for raiders, then taking fat commissions on the buy-out. But those were companies backed up by assets that made them worth plundering. Where's the incentive to destroy a nonprofit money-loser like Western Pediatrics? Where are the assets, Doctor?'
'The real estate the hospital sits on, for a start.'
'The real estate.' Another headshake, accompanied by a finger wag.
The guy had a definite tutorial bent. As a matter of fact, the land is owned by the city and leased to the hospital under a ninetynine-year contract, the contract's renewable for another ninety-nine at the hospital's request, and the rent's a dollar a year. Public record look it up at the assessor's office, just as I did.'
'You're not here because Jones and his gang are innocents,' I said.
'What are they after?'
He moved forward on his chair. 'Think convertible assets, Doctor.
A massive supply of high-quality stocks and bonds at Chuck Jones's disposal.'
'The hospital's investment portfolio-Jones manages it. What's he doing, skimming?'
Yet another headshake. 'Proximate but no panatela, Doctor.
Though that's also a reasonable assumption. As it turns out, the hospital's portfolio is a joke. Thirty years of dipping into it to balance the operating budget has stripped it down to bare bones. In fact, huck Jones has built it up some-he's a very savvy' investor. But rising costs keep eating away at it. There'll never be enough in there to make it worth fooling with-not at Jones's level.'
'What's his level?'
'Eight figures. Major-league financial manipulation. Fisk and Gould would have counted their fingers after shaking hands with Chuck Jones.
His public image is that of a financial wizard and he's even saved a few companies along the way. But it's hisplundering that fuels it all.
The man's destroyed more businesses than the Bolsheviks.'
'So he's a slash-and-burn man, too, as long as the price is high enough.'
Huenengarth looked up at the ceiling.
'Why doesn't anyone know about it?' I said.
He scooted forward a bit more. Very little of him was touching the chair.
'They will soon,' he said quietly. 'I've been on his trail for four and a half years and the end's finally in sight. No one's going to fuck it up-that's why I need total discretion. I won't get derailed.
Understand?'
The pink of his neck had deepened to tomato-aspic. He fingered his collar, loosened his tie and opened it.
'He's discreet,' he said. 'Covers himself beautifully. But I'm going to beat him at his own game.'
'Covers himself how?'
'Layers of shadow corporations and holding companies, phony syndicates, foreign bank accounts. Literally hundred's of trading accounts, operating simultaneously. Plus battalions of lackeys like Plumb and Roberts and Novak, most of whom only know a small part of each picture.
It's a screen so effective that even people like Mr. Cestare don't see through it. But when he falls, he's going to fall hard, Doctor, I promise you. He's made mistakes and I've got him in my sights.'
