front. Inside each envelope is an accounting of your individual worths.
Your strengths. Your weaknesses…. There is one envelope missing. The …
influential, very important Mr. Kroeger does not have one. Frankly, it’s
insignificant.”
“I warn youl”
“So very sorry, Mr. Kroeger.” Again the words were rapidly spoken, but this
time no one was listening. Each
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one!s concentration was on Elizabeth Scarlatti and her briefcase. “Some
envelopes are thicker than others, but none should place too gmat an
emphasis on this factor. We all know the negligibility of wide
diversification after a certain point.” Elizabeth reached into her leather
case.
“You are a witchl” Kindorfs heavy accent was now guttural, the veins stood
out in his temples.
“Here. I shall pass them out And as each of you pe~ ruse your miniature
portfolios I shall continue talking, which, I know, will please you.”
The envelopes were passed down both sides of the table. Some were torn open
miniediately, hungrily Others, like the cards of experienced poker players,
were handled carefully, cautiously.
Matthew Canfield stood by the wall, his left arm smarting badly in the
sling, his right hand in his pocket, sweatily clutching his revolver. Since
Elizabeth had identified Ulster Scarlett with the 270 million, he could not
take his eyes off him. This man called Heinrich Kroeger. This ludeous,
arrogant son of a bitch was the man be wantedl This was the filthy bastard
who had done it allt This was Janefs personal hell.
“I see you all have your envelopes. Except, of course, the ubiquitous Mr.
Kroeger. Gentlemen, I promised you I would not be unfair and I shan’t be.
There are five of you who can not begin to appreciate the influence of
Scarlatti unless you have, as they say in cheap merchandising, samples
applicable to you alone. Therefore, as you read the contents of yow
envelopes, I shall briefly touch on these sensitive areas.”
Several of the men who had been reading shifted their eyes toward Elizabeth
without moving their heads. Others put the papers down defiantly. Some
handed the pages to aides and stared at the old woman. Elizabeth glanced
over her shoulder at Matthew Canfield. She was worried about him She knew
he, at last, faced Ulster Scarlett, and the pressure on him was immense.
She tried to catch his eye. She tried to reassure him with a look, a confi-
dent smile.
He would not look at her. She saw only the hatred in his eyes as he stared
at the man called Heinrich Kroeger.
“I shall delineate alphabetically, gentlemen. . . . Monsieur Daudet, the
Republic of France would be reluctant
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to continue awarding franchises to your fleet if they were aware of those
ships under Paraguayan flag which carried supplies to France’s enemies in
time of war.” Daudet remained motionless, but Elizabeth was amused to see
the three Englishmen bristle at the Frenchman. The predictable,
contradictory Britishl
“Oh, come, Mr. Innes-Bowen. You may not have run ammunition, but how many
neutral ships were loaded off how many piers in India with textile cargoes
bound for Bremerhaven and Cuxhaven during the same period? … And Mr.
Leacock. You can’t really forget your fine Iriih heritage, can you? The
Sinn F6in has prospered well under your tutelage. Momes funneled through
you to the Irish rebellion cost the lives of thousands of British soldiers
at a time when England could least afford theml And quiet, calm Herr
Olaffsen. The crown prince of Swedish steel. Or is he the kingnow? He might
well be, for the Swedish government paid him several fortunes for untold
hundreds of tons of low-earbon ingot. However, they didn’t come from his
own superior factories. They were shipped from inferior mills half a world
awayfrom Japarit”
Elizabeth reached into her briefcase once again. The men around the table
were like corpses, immobile, only their minds were working. For Heinrich
Kroeger, Elizabeth Scarlatti had placed the seal of approval on her own
death warrant. He sat back and relaxed. Elizabeth withdrew a thin booklet
from her briefcase.
“Lastly we come to Herr Thyssen. He emerges with
the least pain. No grand fraud, no -treason, only minor il
legality and major embarrassment. Hardly a fitting tribute
to the house of August Thyssen.” She threw the booklet
into the center of the table. “Filth, gentlemen, just plain
filth. Fritz Thyssen, pornographerl Purveyor of obscenity.
Books, pamphlets, even motion pictures. Printe ‘ d and.
filmed in Thyssen warehouses in Cairo. Every govern
ment on the Continent has condemned the unknown
source, There he is, gentlemen. Your associate.”
For a long moment no one spoke. Each man was concerned with himself Each
calculated the damage that could result from old Scarlattis disclosures. In
every instance the loss was accompanied by degrees of disgrace. Reputations
could hang in balance. The old woman had
329
Issued twelve indictments and personally returned twelve verdicts of guilty.
Somehow, no one considered the thirteenth, Heinrich Kroeger.
Sydney Masterson pierced the belligerent air with a loud, manufactured
cough. “Very well, Madame Scarlatti, you’ve made the point I referred to
earlier. However, I think I should remind you that we are not impotent men.
Charges and countercharges are parts of our lives. Solicitors can refute
every accusation you’ve made, and I can assure you that lawsuits for
uninifigated slander would be in the forefront. . . . After all, when
gutter tactics are employed, there are expedieftt replies…. If you think
we fear disdam, believe me when I tell you that public opinion has been
molded by far less money than is represented at this tablel”
The gentlemen of Zurich took confidence in Masterson!s words. There were
nods of agreement.
“I don!t for one second doubt you, Mr. Masterson. Any
of you. . . . Missing personnel files, opportunistic execu
tives — sacrificial goats. Please, gentlemenl I only contend
that you wouldn’t welcome the trouble. Or the anxiety
which goes with such distasteful matters.” –
“Non, madame.” Claude Daudet was outwardly cool but inwardly petrified.
Perha]pG his Zurich associatis did not know the French people- A firing
squad was not out of the question. “You are corre&L Such troubles are to be
avoided. So, then what is next? What is it you prepare for us, ch?”
Elizabeth paused. She waset quite sure why. It was an instinct, an
intuitive need to turn around and look at the field accountant.
Matthew Canfield had not budged from his position by the wall. He was a
pathetic sight. His jacket had fallen ,away from his left shoulder
revealing the dark black sling, his right hand still plunged in his pocket
He seemed to be swallowing continuously, trying to keep himself aware of
his surroundings. Elizabeth noticed that he now avoided looking at Ulster
Scarlett. He, seemed, in essence, to be trying to hang on to his sanity.
“Excuse me, gentlemen.” Elizabeth rose from her chair and crossed to
Canfield. She whispered quietly to him. ITake hold of yourself. I demand id
There$ nothing to fear. Not in this rooml”
Canfield spoke slowly, Without Moving his lips. She
330
could barely hear him, but what she heard startled her. Not for its content,
but for the way in which he said it. Matthew Canfield was now among the
ranks in this room in Zurich. He had joined them; he had become a killer,
too.
“Say what you have to say and get it over with…. I want him. I’m sorry,
but I want him. Look at him now, lady, because he’s a dead man.”
“Control yourselfl Such talk will serve neither of us.” She turned and
walked back to her chair. She stood behind it while she spoke. “As you may
have noticed, gentlemen, my young friend has been seriously wounded. Thanks
to all of you … or one of you, in an attempt to prevent my reaching
Zurich. The act was cowardly and provocative in the extreme.”
The men looked at each other.
Daudet, whose imagination would not stop conjuring pictures of national
disgrace or the firing squad, answered quickly. “Why would any here take
such action, Madame Scarlatti? We are not maniacs. We are businessmen. No
one sought to prevent your coming to Zurich. Witness, madame, we are all
hem”
Elizabeth looked at the m-nn called Kroeger.
“One of you violently opposed this conferetim We were fired upon less than
a half hour ago ”
The men looked at Heinrich Kroeger. Some were becoming angry. This Kroeger
was, perhaps, too reckless.
“No.” He answered simply and emphatically, returning their stares. ‘I
agreed to your coming. If I’d wanted to stop you, I’d have stopped you.”
For the first time since the meeting began, Heinrich Kroeger looked at the
sporting goods salesman at the far end of the room, half concealed in the
poor light He had reacted with only moderate surprise when he realized
Elizabeth Scarlatti had brought him to Zurich. Moderate because he knew
Elizabeth’s penchant for employing the unusual, both in methods and