Visconti showered and dressed, then headed for the kitchen. On his way, he was diverted to the den by the loud ring of the telephone. Simultaneously, Kerri lifted the receiver on the kitchen telephone.
“Louis, baby,” Nick Benedetti said. “Sorry I didn’t get back to you last night. I was up to my ass in alligators. Your message said you had a big job for me.”
“I want you to set up a hit, Nick.”
“Who’s the target?”
“A twenty year old kid. His name’s Phillip Servito. He lives in Toronto. I want him to disappear, without a trace.”
“How soon?”
“I want him to do a job for me in Toronto before you move on him. I’ll let you know when. I want it clean, Nick. Not a trace.”
“You know I do clean work, but it’s gonna be expensive.”
“How expensive?”
“A hundred smackers. Fifty up front, and fifty on delivery of the photograph.”
“Not a problem. I’ll have fifty delivered and call you when it’s time.” Visconti chuckled as he hung up, then headed for the kitchen. Phillip’s elimination would solve an enormous problem for both himself and Mike King. It amused him that the funeral would be paid out of funds in the trust.
Sickened and horrified, Kerri carefully replaced the receiver. Fear and uncertainty besieged her in undulating waves as she turned to face Phillip. He had been condemned to death by the man she had chosen to love. Suddenly, the unmitigated joy of discovering her father had been shattered by doubt. Questions swirled in her head. Feeling betrayed and cheated, she fought with possible answers. Whatever they were, the ugly truth was that Louis was a dangerous man, substantially more dangerous than Miles had warned.
Struggling to maintain her composure at breakfast, Kerri stared at Phillip, the adopted son of her father, aching to tell him to run away from Louis as fast as he could. She felt a loathing nausea in the pit of her stomach when she looked at Visconti, laughing and joking with Phillip, smugly pretending to be the friend of his naive unsuspecting house guest, within hours of sentencing him to death.
CHAPTER 81
Monday, August 27.
Kerri entered then closed the door to Dennis’s office. She stared at her boss, tears streaming from her reddened eyes.
“What’s wrong?” Dennis asked.
“Everything,” Kerri whimpered, now sobbing into her hands.
Dennis rushed to hold her. “Sit and talk,” he ordered, then led her to his own chair. He sat on the desk and faced her. “Talk to me,” he demanded.
After more than an hour of emotionally charged, intense discussion, Kerri had managed to tell Dennis the entire story of her incredible weekend.
Dennis frowned and exhaled. “Damn! I’m absolutely delighted that you’ve found your father, but the news about Louis is awful.”
Kerri rubbed her eyes. “What do you think?”
Dennis exhaled again. “Obviously, there’s a hell of a lot more to this story.”
“Yup, and I’m going to find out what it is.”
“Not a good idea. Don’t get involved, Kerri. You could find yourself in a world of trouble.”
“I’m already involved. It’s impossible for me to become uninvolved. The man I’m living with is planning to kill Phillip, and I’m in a position to stop him.”
“I think you should talk to your father. May be he can give you some guidance.” Dennis grinned. “You might even have a few other things to talk about.”
Kerri shook her head. “I don’t think I can do it.”
“You mean you don’t think you can talk to your father, or you don’t think you can tell him who you are?”
“I’m definitely going to talk to him, but I’m just not ready to tell him I’m his daughter.”
“That’s ridiculous! If it were me, I’d run to him, shout the truth to him and hug him as hard as I could. He’s your father, Kerri. Aside from anything else you need to tell him, I think your first priority is your relationship. Both of you have a lot of catching up to do.”
Privately, Kerri agreed, but fear of rejection troubled her. Her father had stopped seeing her and writing to her. With passing years she had concluded that he had wanted to forget her, have nothing more to do with her, and get on with his life. Her natural mother admitted that her primary motivation for marrying Mike King had been to replace the daughter she had given up for adoption. That, and psychological problems arising from it, ultimately led to the divorce. “I’ll think about it,” she said.
“You handle it any way you want. I’m sure you’ll make the right decision.”
The act of sharing her mental burden with Dennis was enormously therapeutic to Kerri. She stood and hugged him. “Thank you, Miles. Thank you for listening. You’re always there to catch me when I fall.”
“No thanks necessary. You’re worth it.”
Kerri called Information and was given the telephone number of Reserve Oil in Toronto. Nervous yet excited, she dialed the number and waited, struggling to decide what to say to her father. She asked to speak to Mike King.
“May I ask who’s calling?” the receptionist asked.
“My name is Janet Pyper. I’m with Iacardi & Sons, Commodity Brokers in New York.”
“One moment, please.”
Kerri’s heart pounded. The next person she talked to would be her father.
“Hello,” Mike barked.
“Mister King, my name is…”
“I know who you are. Is this some kind of sales solicitation?”
“I’m not calling to sell you anything. What I have to tell you is far more important than that,” Kerri said, shaken by her father’s tone.
“Then please hurry. I’m in the middle of a meeting.”
“I’m calling to tell you your stepson’s life is in great danger.”
“What the hell is this? What did you say your name is?”
“Janet Pyper. I’m Louis Visconti’s girlfriend. I’m sure you know him.”
“Give me your telephone number. I’ll call you right back.”
Kerri gave Mike her number, confused as to why he needed to call back.
Minutes later, Mike called Kerri from his car phone. “Sorry for the delay. Now tell me what Louis Visconti’s got to do with my stepson, and why his life is in danger.”
“Phillip was at our apartment in New York this weekend, to talk to Louis about the money his natural father left him. I assume you know exactly what he was talking about.”
“Yes. Please go on,” Mike prodded, his tone now softened, his heart pounding.
“Phillip told me he hates you and everything you stand for. When I asked him why, he said it was because you refused to give him his money. He also told me that Louis has agreed to help him get it.”
“Did he say how?”
“No. I tried to convince him to tell me, but he refused.”
“Did he tell you anything else?”
Kerri ached to tell him Phillip had identified him as her father, but again fear of rejection inhibited her. “I asked Louis why Phillip hates you. He said it was related to a family dispute over who gets the money.”
“He was right about that. Please tell me why Phillip’s life is in danger.”
“I overheard a telephone conversation between Louis and a man called Nick. Louis agreed to pay him a hundred thousand dollars to murder Phillip.”
“That’s incredible! Why?”
“He didn’t say, but he did say he wanted it done as soon as Phillip completes a job for him in Toronto.”
“Did he say what the job was?”
“No. I thought you might know.”
“I don’t, but I’m sure as hell going to find out… I’m curious. If you’re Visconti’s girlfriend, why are you telling me this?”
“Because I’m… Because I was shocked when I found out what Louis was planning to do.
Whatever my feelings are toward him, I just couldn’t let him murder someone.”
“How did you find me?”
Mike asked.
“Phillip told me the name of your company. I want you to know that I’ll be in a lot of trouble if Louis ever finds out where you got this information.”
“I’ll be extremely careful with it.”
“Thank you. If I learn anything more, I’ll call you… Would you do the same for me?”
“I will… I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your call. It took a lot of courage.”
“You’re very welcome.”
Shaken, yet still skeptical, Mike called Dan Turner and repeated the entire text of his conversation with Janet Pyper.
“Incredible,” Turner said. “You’re incredible. In fact I think you’re addicted to trouble. I think you should find out more about this, Mike. If Visconti’s girlfriend is telling the truth, Phillip’s in a lot of trouble… By the way, William Dare paid me a visit this morning. He was with a lawyer by the name of Fetterman. They were both breathing fire.”
“What did they want?” Mike asked, sickened by the mere mention of Dare’s name.
“The money. I asked them how much they wanted, but they refused to tell me. All they said was that Phillip might know where the money is.”
“Might?”
“Yes. I questioned them on that. They said he also told them you might know where the money is.”
“Ah shit, Dan! Here we go again,” Mike said, blood now gushing to his head and creating a throbbing headache.
“Maybe not. All they’ve got is a smoking gun. As long as nobody tells them anything more, that’s all they’ll have.”
“This thing’s out of control. It’s ripping me apart. I can’t take it any more. Let’s just bite the bullet and give them the money. I’m tired of worrying about it.”
“We could, but in so doing, you and Karen would risk a lot. By the time you finished paying the fines and the penalties, you would both be broke and relaxing in prison… I urge you, in the strongest possible language, to do nothing to lead the Feds to believe you have ever been aware of the existence or location of that money. I further urge you to do nothing to initiate precipitous action, particularly where Phillip is concerned.”
Mike rubbed his eyes with his hand. “Can you see any end?”
“Yes, but I don’t think you want to hear it.”
“It would appear that I have no alternative but to respect your advice, counselor,” Mike conceded, dejected beyond consolation.
CHAPTER 82
Toronto.
Margaret Dupuis, one of Mike’s two secretaries, opened his office door and poked her head inside. “Phillip’s out here. He’s really anxious to see you,” she announced.
“Send him in,” Mike said, then slumped in his chair.
Phillip entered and walked slowly toward Mike’s desk. His eyes were reddened and glazed, the result of hours of rehearsal and anxiety. This was his big chance. His performance would have to be a masterpiece. He had no alternative but to convince Mike he had changed his mind. “Hi,” he said, showing no signs of the haughtiness with which he had approached Mike during their previous confrontation.
“What can I do for you?” Mike asked.
“May I have a seat?” Phillip asked, resisting an urge to flop on the couch as he had done in the past.
Mike nodded and pointed.
Phillip lowered himself onto the couch, but sat erect. He gave Mike an expressionless stare. “I’ve changed my mind about the money. I’ve had some time to think it and I… I can’t do it,” he said, sobbing and covering his face with his hands.
“You can’t do what?”
“… I can’t go through with it. I can’t force you and mom to give me the money. No matter how much I want it, I just can’t bring myself to hurt mom.” He looked up at Mike and blinked. “I know I haven’t made it a secret that I don’t like you. I probably wouldn’t have been sorry to see you go to jail, but I love my mother. I love her too much to do this to her.”
Mike leaned forward. “Let me understand this. Are you telling me you’re giving up the idea of blackmailing us?”
Phillip removed his hands and stared at Mike, every ounce of concentration focused on appearing sincere. “I can’t. I couldn’t live with myself if I knew I was responsible for sending mom to prison.”
“So you won’t object if I give the money to charity?”
Phillip shook his head. “No,” he whimpered.
“I’m very proud of you,” Mike said, showing a faint smile. “It took a lot of courage to come in here and do this. I’m sure your mother will be proud of you, also.”
Phillip’s frown slowly give way to a hint of a smile. “Thanks for understanding,” he said, then stood and extended his hand. “I’m sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused you.”
“Forget it. Get out of here before I fire you,” Mike said with a big wink.
Happy, relieved and triumphant, Phillip wheeled and marched from the office.
Mike hurried to his car and called Dan Turner. “Sorry to bother you again, Dan, but I had to tell you about a very significant development. Phillip just came into my office and told me he doesn’t want the money. He said he doesn’t want to hurt his mother.”
“Do you believe him?”
“I want to, but in all honesty, I don’t know what to believe any more. I just wanted you to know what he told me.”
“Thanks. I’ve noted your call.”
“Should we do anything?”
“No. Instinct tells me we should do nothing to rock the boat. You’ve held onto that money for a long time. You can hold onto it a little longer. If there’s a plan to get it, eventually it will emerge.”
CHAPTER 83
August 29.
The question of the viability of O.P.E.C. hung over intense negotiations among its members, since their meeting in Vienna on August 26. They finally reached an agreement authorizing its members to increase oil production to maintain normal world supplies. The result was to increase O.P.E.C. output by four million barrels a day, almost all of the production lost to the embargo of Iraq and occupied Kuwait. The decision to lift production quotas was supported by ten of the thirteen members. The dissenters were Iraq and Libya, which boycotted the meeting. Iran attended but was a major opponent of the agreement.
To the delight of the industrialized world and Louis Visconti, oil prices dropped sharply on the news to slightly below twenty-six dollars a barrel. To his further delight, he received a call from Phillip, informing him that he had succeeded in convincing his stepfather of his change of heart.
CHAPTER 84
New York. Friday, August 31. Noon.
Kerri was on a mission. She entered the luxurious offices of Mara, Griesdorf and Visconti and headed straight for the reception desk.
As with most girls in Visconti’s office, Alice Mancowitz, the receptionist, was very much aware of Kerri’s relationship with Visconti. “Hi Kerri,” she said with a big smile. “What brings you up here? As if I didn’t know.”
“To pick up the file. Miles wants it yesterday.”
“What file?” Alice asked, frantically sorting through the files on her desk.
“It should be right here. Louis told me he would leave it at the reception desk before he left for the airport this morning.”
Alice thumbed through the pile of envelopes and files on her desk. “Not here,” she said, red faced and shaking her head. “Can you wait for an hour? Sue just left for lunch.”
“I can’t. Miles is going to have a coronary if I don’t get it to him now. Louis promised he would give it to him two days ago… Maybe he left it on Sue’s desk.”
“I would get it for you, but I’m not supposed to leave this desk.”
“Then I’ll get it,” Kerri offered.
Alice displayed a squeamish smile. “You really shouldn’t, Kerri. I’m not supposed to…”
“Come on, Alice,” Kerri prodded. “Just close your eyes. I’ll be in and out of there in no time.”
“Do it fast.”
Kerri hurried t
o the filing cabinets behind Sue’s desk and began a frantic search. Her heart pounded wildly as anxious minutes ticked by. She looked through drawer after drawer of files, desperately trying to find Visconti’s account files.
Finally, under K, in the sixth drawer, she found the file for the King trust account. She opened it and found copies of quarterly and annual reports dating all the way back to 1980. She looked around to ensure no one was looking, then removed the files for the three years, starting in 1987. She found an empty legal sized envelope and placed her borrowed files in it. She closed the drawer and carried the envelope back to the reception desk. “I found it,” she announced, waving the envelope at Alice. “I’ll bring it back as soon as Miles is finished with it. Just don’t tell Sue I took it.”
Alice grinned. “I’m not that stupid.”
Kerri returned to the Iacardi office, headed straight for the copying machines and worked feverishly to make a copy of each of the three annual reports. She ran to her desk to drop off the copies, then rushed back to Visconti’s office. She returned the original reports to Sue’s cabinet, then hurried to the reception area. “Thanks, Alice,” she said as she headed for the glass doors. “I owe you one.”
Seconds after she stepped into the elevator, Sue emerged from the adjacent one.
Kerri returned to her desk and began to study her numerous unauthorized copies of Visconti’s reports. She started with the report for the year ended, December 31, 1987. It showed an enormous decrease in the value of the trust from the previous year end. The decrease verified Visconti’s admitted losses from the crash of October,1987.
The reports for the following two years, however, failed to substantiate his claim that he had recovered the losses with astute investments. Of even more interest to her was the absence of any cash in the trust. She distinctly recalled the 1988 year end report which Visconti had given to Miles Dennis in February, 1989, showing a cash reserve of two hundred and fifty million dollars and a net asset value of six hundred and sixty-two million. Her unauthorized copy of the same report showed no cash reserve and a net asset value of only four hundred and twelve million. In addition to the obvious anomaly, she had difficulty understanding why Phillip had said the trust was worth only three hundred million. Finally, none of the 1989 quarterly reports contained any reference to short positions in crude oil. Something was terribly wrong.