“Do you think he’ll really go back to the old lady?” Paul Martin asked.
“I don’t know. But if he does, I could get in a lot of trouble with the Housing Commission.”
Paul shrugged. “I wouldn’t worry about him. He’s probably bluffing.”
Lara sighed. “I hope so.”
“How would you like to go to Reno?” Paul asked.
“I’d love to, but I can’t get away.”
“I’m not asking you to get away. I’m asking if you’d like to buy a hotel and casino there.”
Lara studied him. “Are you serious?”
“I got word that one of the hotels is going to lose its license. The place is a gold mine. When the news gets out, everyone is going to be after it. The hotel’s going on auction, but I think I can fix it for you to get it.”
Lara hesitated. “I don’t know. I’m pretty heavily committed. Howard Keller says the banks won’t lend me any more until I can pay off some loans.”
“You don’t have to go to a bank.”
“Then where…?”
“Junk bonds. A lot of Wall Street firms offer them. There are savings and loan companies. You put up five percent equity, and a savings and loan company will put up sixtyfive percent in high-yield notes. That leaves thirty percent uncovered. You can get that from a foreign bank that invests in casinos. You’ve got choices—Switzerland, Germany, Japan. There are half a dozen banks that will put up the thirty percent in commercial notes.”
Lara was beginning to get excited. “It sounds great. Do you really think you can get the hotel for me?”
Paul grinned. “It will be your Christmas present.”
“You’re wonderful. Why are you so good to me?”
“I haven’t the vaguest idea,” he teased. But he knew the answer. He was obsessed with her. Lara made him feel young again, and she made everything exciting for him. I never want to lose you, he thought.
Keller was waiting for Lara when she walked into the office.
“Where have you been?” he asked. “There was a two o’clock meeting that…”
“Tell me about junk bonds, Howard. We’ve never dealt with them. How are bonds rated?”
“Well, at the top you have Triple A. That would be a company like AT and T. Down the ladder you have Double A, Single A, BAA, and at the bottom of the ladder, Double B—those are the junk bonds. An investment bond will pay nine percent. A junk bond will pay fourteen percent. Why do you ask?”
Lara told him.
“A casino, Lara? Jesus! Paul Martin is behind this, isn’t he?”
“No, Howard. If I go ahead with this, I’m behind it. Did we get an answer on our offer on the Battery Park property?”
“Yes. She won’t sell to us.”
“The property is up for sale, isn’t it?”
“In a way.”
“Stop talking in circles.”
“It’s owned by a doctor’s widow, Eleanor Royce. Every real estate developer in town has been bidding on that property.”
“Have we been outbid?”
“It isn’t that. The old lady isn’t interested in money. She’s loaded.”
“What is she interested in?”
“She wants some kind of monument to her husband. Apparently she thinks she was married to Albert Schweitzer. She wants to keep his flame burning. She doesn’t want her property turned into anything crass or commercial. I hear Steve Murchison has been trying to talk her into settling.”
“Oh?”
Lara sat there quietly for a full minute. When she spoke, she said, “Who’s your doctor, Howard?”
“What?”
“Who’s your doctor?”
“Seymour Bennett. He’s chief of staff at Midtown Hospital.”
The following morning Lara’s attorney, Terry Hill, was sitting in the office of Dr. Seymour Bennett.
“My secretary told me that you wanted to see me urgently and that it has nothing to do with a medical problem.”
“In a sense,” Terry Hill said, “it does concern a medical problem, Dr. Bennett. I represent an investment group that wants to put up a nonprofit clinic. We want to be able to take care of those unfortunate people who can’t afford regular medical care.”
“That’s a splendid idea,” Dr. Bennett said. “What can I do to help you?”
Terry Hill told him.