and exchanges, you look around to see what companies in the area might be ripe for invading." The legal academician was enjoying himself, "It's really quite simple," he continued, "and a bell of an amusing game to play. I've scared the be-jesus out of more than one corporate flunkie in those summer seminars by telling him where I thought his company's money men were heading. I've got a little index file-three by five cards -where I jot down my goodies." Scofield spoke; he had to know. "What about TransComm? Did you ever do a file card on it?" "Oh, sure. That's what I meant about the other countries." "What are they?" Goldman stood up in front of the fire, frowning in recollection. "Let's start with the Verachten Works. TransComm's overseas reports included sizeable payments to the Gebmeinhoff-Salenger firm in Essen. Geluneinhoff's a direct legal liaison to Verachten. And they're not interested in nickel-and-dime transactions; Trans-Comm had to be going after a big chunk of the complex. Although I admit; even I didn't think it was as much as the rumors indicate. Probably isn't." "What about the othersT' "Let's see.... Japan. Kyoto. T-C uses the firm of Aikawa-Onmura-and-something. My guess would be Yakashubi Electronics." "That's pretty substantial, isn't it?" "Panasonic can't compare." "What about Europe?" "Well, we know about Verachten." Goldman pursed his lips. "Then, of course, there's Amsterdam; the law firm there is Hainaut and Sons, which leads me to think that Trans-Comm's bought into Netherlands Textiles, which is an umbrella for a score of companies ranging from Scandinavia to Lisbon.
From here we can head over to Lyon...." The lawyer stopped, and shook his head. "No, that probably tied in with Turin." "Turin?" Bray sat forward.
"Yes, they're so close together, the interests so compatible, there's no doubt prior ownership buried in Turin." "Who in Turin?" "The law firm's Palladino-e-LaTona, which can only mean one company-or companies. Scozzi-Paravacini." Scofield went rigid. "They're a cartel, aren't they?" "My God, yes. They-it-certainly is. Agnelli and Fiat get all the publicity, but Scozzi-Paravacini runs the Colosseum and all the lions. When you combine it with Verachten and Netherlands Textiles, throw in Yakashubi, addSingapore, and Perth, and a dozen other names in England, Spain, and South Africa I haven't mentioned, the Alabaster Bride of Boston has put together a global fedemtion." "You sound as if you approve." "No, actually I don't. I don't think anyone can when so much economic power is so centralized. It's a corruption of the Malthusian law; the competition is false. But I respect the reality of genius when its accomplishments ' are so obviously staggering. Trans-Communications was an idea bom and developed in the mind of one man. Nicholas Guiderone." "I've heard of him. A modem day Camegie or Rockefeller, isn't he?" "More. Much more. The Geneens, the Lucases, the Bluedhorns, the wonderboys of Detroit and Wall Street, none of them can touch Guiderone. He's the last of the vanishing giants, a really benign monarch of industry and finance.
He's been honored by most of the major govemments of the West, and not a few in the Eastern bloc, including Moscow." "Moscow?" "Certainly," said Goldman, nodding thanks to his wife, who was pouring a second stinger into his glass. "No one's done more to open up East-West trade than Nicholas Guiderone. As a matter of fact I can't think of anyone who's done more for world trade in general. He's over eighty now, but I understand he's still filled with as much pee and vinegar as he was the day he walked out of Boston Latin." "'He's from Boston?" "Yes, a remarkable story. He came to this country as a boy. An immigrant boy of ten or eleven, without a mother, traveling with a barely literate father in the hold of a ship. I suppose you could call it the definitive story of the American dream." Involuntarily, Scofield gripped the arm of the chair. He could feel the pressure on his chest, the tightening in his throat. "Where did that ship come from?" "Italy," said Goldman, sipping his drink. "Southern part. Sicily, or one of the islands." Bray was almost afraid to ask the question. "Would you by any chance know whether Nicholas Guiderone ever knew a member of the Appleton family?" Goldman looked over the rim of his glass. "I know it, and so does most everyone in Boston. Guiderone's father worked for the Appletons. For the Senator's grandfather at Appleton Hall. It was old Appleton who spotted the boy's