Читать книгу Mysteries Unlimited Ltd. - Donald Ph.D. Ladew - Страница 3

The Pebble Beach Golf Club, known to cognoscenti all over the world as, “The Pebble”, lies south of San Francisco on the best part of the Monterey Peninsula. Like other difficult courses, it has been called more colorful names over the years.

Golfers come to play for a variety of reasons, the chief one being that they can then say, with un-warranted assurance, things like: “when I played ‘Pebble’ the weather was foul”, the implication being they have played the course in all kinds of weather, which is, of course, so much chicken dirt. Most people play the course once, after which they go back to their country clubs where the fairways are as wide as an airport, the greens flat, and the sand bunkers as tame as Santa Monica Beach.

Others, less interested in golf snobbery, might say: “Well, what the hell, it’s a nice course, but four hundred and fifty bucks a pop is grand theft sport.”

Such comments are usually accompanied by uncomplimentary ethnic slurs against the Japanese owners—Americans now, I’ve been told. About damned time. Most people wouldn’t care, or want to know that the Japanese own most of our hotels and golf courses.

But, when our Asian business partners start screwing with such hallowed institutions as the Pebble Beach Country Club, they go way beyond freedom and decency and deserve every low comment over-charged aficionados can imagine.

On this particular day, five men in rainbow-hued golf shirts with emblems of insects and exotic animals on the pockets sat on the terrace of the Pebble Beach Golf Hotel enjoying the view across the eighteenth green to the Pacific Ocean beyond. It is a spectacular view worth seeing whether one plays golf or not.

They finished their round an hour earlier, and though humbled in body and spirit, had sufficient energy to enjoy what golfers call the nineteenth hole⎯booze and snacks.

One of the men, sunburned face peeling, and whose stomach protruded beyond his belt like a misplaced boulder, was still bitching about the cost. The fact that he could have played twice a day for the rest of his natural life, didn’t matter.

“It’s crap, Harrison! Four hundred and fifty dollars; goddamned highway robbery. Damn Nips have gone too far.”

His hard Texas twang crackled through the evening air causing the après golf crowd to turn and stare nervously. The fact was, he only said what others were thinking but hadn’t the cojones or bad manners to say aloud.

“Sheeit, for this much money we shoulda had fourteen-year old blonde virgins for caddies, or maybe the golf carts shoulda been Rolls Royce’s.”

Harrison Culhane stared at the Texan with disgust. Culhane was a lean man with advanced male-pattern baldness, who looked a lot like ex-President Bush with a mustache,

“You’re just pissed because you lost a hundred and twenty bucks and put three balls in the ocean on the eighteenth, George,” Harrison snickered meanly.

George’s reply was short and to the point, each word separately articulated.

“Screw you, Harrison. The way you were chunking balls in there I figured you owned the retrieval concession.”

George drank an inch of his Wild Turkey and went off into one of his oblique stories.

“I met one of those guys who go around collecting balls from ponds a while back. He uses a powerful lamp and one of those snorkel things. Man traveled to golf courses all over California, said he made a pretty good living selling them back to the courses. Guy told me he found two dead Hispanics in a lake down in Palm Springs one morning, stiffer’n a mackerel.

“Poor bastard, scared him half to death; said he had to give it up. Whoever zapped them couldn’t have been a golfer or he’d have known they’d be found.”

Arthur Patterson, a tough, watchful man in his late forties, ran his hands through brush cut graying hair and ordered another drink from a passing waiter.

“How the hell do you putt, George? I know damn well you can’t see the ball past that dead whale in your gut.”

The fourth man didn’t join the bickering. He was tall, excessively neat, wore expensive gold-rimmed glasses, and was given to pursing his thin lips. When he spoke the other three shut up.

“That’s enough,” Elleston said, “Keep it down. This isn’t golf, this is business.”

“When does the Nip arrive,” George asked, his voice a little lower.

“George, you’re supposed to be a politician. Haven’t you learned, ethnic slurs are counter productive? You let one slip out at the wrong time and your political career is history, then you won’t be of any use to this group, and I wouldn’t like that at all.”

He paused; making sure George understood his meaning clearly.

“We are meeting with a Japanese business man in a half hour. He’s bringing us ninety million dollars. We are the dry cleaner. And like all dry cleaners we will take his dirty laundry and loose it. Then we will make restitution in nice clean dollars. We, very sensibly will keep his dirty laundry which will magically become minty fresh.”

He smiled at his little witticism. The others did not laugh but they were keenly interested.

“He gets ninety million and we get ninety million. Pay attention gentlemen. That’s ninety million the IRS doesn’t know about, your wives don’t know about; what the government calls discretionary funds. Do you understand?”

Their responses covered the full range of avarice and greed.

“The bank, your bank,” he looked at each man in turn, “is going to have a health problem. It will become ill, then, with the help of the depositors and certain insurance companies, it will get well. For this to occur a great many things must happen at exactly the right time and in exactly the right place.”

The man with the gold-rimmed glasses poured what was left of a bottle of designer water into his glass. He drank from the glass carefully, neatly. He was a banker and an orderly man.

“What about the General?” George asked.

“Ahhhh, yes. Well, that’s not a problem, I will deal with him. In point of fact he’s not a bad CEO, but he has a weak spot and that weak spot will make us all very rich men. He’s an old fashioned man and try as he might, he hasn’t really figured out how electronic banking works. He is very good at bringing us new customers, one of the best I’ve ever seen.”

George, who wasn’t quite the stupid Texan he let on, paid close attention to everything said.

“We’re going to need a goat, Elleston. After the...action there’ll be a period of one or two months when we’ll be vulnerable.”

Elleston smiled a thin, joyless smile.

“The candidate has been chosen. I selected her for several reasons. One, she is the computer security officer at the bank and very good at it; she also has access to all accounts and services from her computer; another is that she’s much too close to the General.

“The silly bitch has visions of becoming a director of the bank. She is a vile, pushy tart, and I’m going to enjoy putting her in her place, which is behind bars. She will be implicated. The physical evidence will be overwhelming, but it must be done quickly before anyone looks too closely. That is why we have you Harrison and of course, Judge Forster. With the FBI loop closed,” he nodded toward Patterson, “and my people at the bank we have an unbeatable team.”

George smiled with satisfaction. “Good, she’ll never know what hit her. Getting the money out of the system is the tricky part.”

The man with the gold-rimmed glasses removed several folders from a briefcase beside his chair.

“George, you have the European connection. Be sure everything is ready. Go there and handle it personally if you have to.”

He passed a folder to Arthur and one to each of the others.

The fifth man, Major Pauley, said nothing. He was uncomfortable with these men. His education had stopped with a GED high school diploma acquired in the army, and he didn’t play golf.

The only reason Pauley was present was because his boss ordered it. He understood obedience and orders. He would have preferred staying home working on his stamp collection. His base of power was limited to guarding the physical security of the bank and running errands for Elleston Howard, in the course of which he’d been instrumental in creating the inside people at the bank.

“Be certain you know exactly what you’re supposed to do. When the action is complete, destroy the records. And, gentlemen,” Elleston’s voice held menace, “don’t keep any insurance. I have everybody by the short hairs and I won’t hesitate to use that option if needed.

“Ahhh, here comes Mr. Kinsai now.”

Kinsai didn’t look like a man with ninety million dollars in cash. You might have found him in any good hotel in any major city in the US. He was tall for a Japanese, dressed in a dark suit and tie; the uniform of the ubiquitous Japanese businessman. They truly are everywhere: Japan’s financial soldiers going forth to fight the sacred battle of dominion.

Elleston stood to greet him. The others did not. George was still smarting about their ownership of the Pebble Beach Golf Course.

“Welcome to the U.S., Mr. Kinsai. Please, have a seat. May I have the waiter bring you something?”

“Whiskey and soda, please.” His accent was clear, American. He had no problem with his R’s and L’s.

When his drink arrived he got right to business. He had none of the Oriental’s love of misdirection and ceremony.

“Is the operation ready to go?”

His voice was harsh and demanding. Besides being direct he wasn’t long on good manners.

Elleston introduced the other members of the group. Kinsai was impatient and made it plain he didn’t care about them. His contact was Elleston. Subordinates should be just that. It was interesting that he came alone. Usually Japanese businessmen travel in packs like wolves chasing a wounded elk: Deadly in groups, less capable as individuals.

“To answer your question, Mr. Kinsai, yes. Has the money arrived?”

“It is being loaded into two vans right now from one of our ships. I need only to know when and where you want it sent.”

“Good, good. Where are you staying?”

“The Hilton, room 415.”

“Fine. I will call you tomorrow afternoon with the particulars.”

“My principals want to know the details of the operation,” Kinsai demanded, “exactly how it will be carried out and by whom.”

Elleston sat back and smiled his gray, cheerless smile.

Harrison couldn’t restrain himself. “You can tell your principals,” he sneered, “to pound sand. That was never part of the agreement. We’re taking all the risk. The only thing you need to know is that we can wash your money clean as a new bed sheet and return one hundred percent of that money to you. How we do it ain’t any of your goddamned bidness.”

Kinsai grunted and snarled right back in the Texan’s face.

“It is our money. If we want to know something you will tell us you stupid little man.”

George started across the table only to be grabbed by Harrison and pulled back to his seat.

“That’s enough,” Elleston ordered. “The meeting is over. Mr. Kinsai, call your principals and tell them the operation is off. Put your money back on the ship.” Elleston started to get up.

Kinsai held up his hands nervously. “Wait, this is not necessary, we don’t have to do that.”

The ice in Elleston Howard was there for all to hear.

“Unless you change your attitude, Mr. Kinsai, believe me this meeting is adjourned. I will not be dictated to by you or anyone else. My agreement was made with your leader, your Oyabun. If he wishes to know anything about the operation he may call me direct, otherwise it goes as planned, which doesn’t include me telling anybody the particulars. Are we quite clear about that, Mr. Kinsai?

“Hai!” Kinsai bowed fractionally. Elleston ignored the bow.

“The only way this will work is by sticking to the plan. I am the only one who knows all of it. These gentlemen each have a part; they do not know what the others must do. You, Mister Kinsai, are a buyer. We are the seller. We provide the product, the service if you will. That is the full extent of our relationship. If you want a guarantee, buy a Toyota.”

Elleston drank the last of his fancy water and picked up his brief case.

“That is all, gentlemen. We know what has to be done. Let us each concentrate on getting our part of the operation right. There won’t be time to practice. We only get to do this once. The alternative can cost us a lot more than ninety million dollars.”