“She has controlling interest in all of them except yours, and she’s working on that right now!”
“But she was the one who-oh my God!”
The stricken look on the youth’s face as full realization dawned on him was sufficient to cool Phule’s anger somewhat.
“Look, Gunther,” he said levelly, “why don’t you tell me exactly what happened?”
“There’s not much to tell,” Rafael stammered, still shaken. “She gave me a loan for my remodeling-even suggested it, in fact. She paid me a social call to welcome me as the new owner and seemed quite open in her admiration of the facility, though she did suggest it could use some renovation.”
“And when you said you didn’t think you could afford it, she offered to lend you the money,” the Legionnaire supplied.
“That’s right,” Rafael said. “She said she was looking for a short-term investment to hide some money from the tax men. It seemed like a good deal at the time. She even offered an interest rate below what the bank would charge me.”
“She did, did she?” Phule scowled. “What were the other terms of the loan? All the terms?”
“Well, I can’t remember them all, but I have my copy of the contract right here,” the youth said, quickly rummaging through one of the desk’s file drawers. “Basically she gave me the money against twenty-five percent of the Fat Chance. When I pay it off, her share drops to five percent, as a permanent interest.”
“Twenty-five percent?” Phule echoed. “That doesn’t sound right. From what I hear she usually goes for controlling interest. Let me see that contract.”