Montaro Caine A Novel - By Sidney Poitier Page 0,75
in business!” She pushed the button that raised the partition window to isolate the chauffeur.
“Did you talk numbers?” Victor asked.
“Nope.”
“Why not?”
“Because ten million dollars here or there is nothing to these guys. Believe me, if this thing works out, we can jack our numbers way up.”
“Shit, I wish I was up there with you.”
“You were, honey, I was thinking about you all the time.”
Cordiss lowered the partition. “Take us back to our hotel,” she told the driver, and as the limo pulled into traffic, Victor wasn’t sure what made him happier—all the money that he and Cordiss would be making or the fact that Cordiss still loved him and that they would be spending it together.
27
THE EXECUTIVE DINING LOUNGE OF DAVIS INDUSTRIES WAS LOCATED on the tenth floor of the corporation’s Park Avenue headquarters in one of the priciest zip codes in Manhattan. But what Roland Gabler found most noteworthy when he arrived there for his one p.m. meeting with Bob Wildenmiller and his associates was how great the disparity could be between wealth and taste. There was an impersonal, corporate sheen to these rooms—the long table and chairs were undoubtedly expensive and yet were so lacking in distinctive qualities that they might as well have been chosen from a wholesalers’ mail order catalog. In Gabler’s domain, every objet d’art possessed a fascinating and sometimes dangerous history; what passed for artwork on these walls had probably been mass-produced on an assembly line. When Wildenmiller had called to request a meeting, Gabler had suggested that his own chef devise a menu; when Wildenmiller declined and Gabler agreed to meet at Davis headquarters, he was still looking forward to the discussion, but not to what would be served at lunch.
The dour individuals who greeted Gabler as he entered the room—Carlos Wallace, Verna Fontaine, Alan Rothman, Thomas Bolton, and Wildenmiller himself—made no greater impression on Gabler than the lounge itself or the two platters of lukewarm chicken Caesar salad set out on the conference table. Ice cubes were already melting in the pitchers of iced tea. These were sharpshooting businessmen; unlike some of the eccentric characters Gabler encountered in the collecting world, they didn’t know much about style and were likely to dispense with small talk and get straight to the point. True to Gabler’s expectations, it took barely more than a minute for Wildenmiller to say, “We’re interested in a recent addition to your collection, Roland.”
Gabler was used to taking his time in these sorts of discussions, engaging his potential adversaries in banter to take their measure. “What addition is that?” he asked.
“The one with what appears to be a very unusual history.”
“Forgive the immodesty, gentlemen, but all of my objects have very unusual histories, otherwise I’d be in the junk business.” Gabler laughed; the other men at the table did not.
“We would like to purchase it,” Wildenmiller said flatly, at which point Gabler abandoned the pretense of friendly discussion; clearly, this was to be solely a business conversation—disappointing but ultimately fine with him.
“It’s not for sale,” he said.
Wildenmiller took a mouthful of lunch, washed it down with swallows of iced tea, then rested his fork gently on his plate before speaking again. “You will need enormous resources to take full advantage of the potential represented there, Roland.”
Gabler kept his face blank while his eyes shifted about the table. “It sounds as if we’re on two different tracks,” he said. “To me, the real value of an object, such as the one you are discussing, is the extent to which it enhances my collection.”
“I understand,” Wildenmiller interrupted. “And fundamentally I agree with you. Rarity and beauty are, indeed, the object’s true values, even for an old accountant like me. However, let’s be practical. The chances of that coin remaining in your collection are very slim, given the likelihood of ownership disputes and the real possibility of public discovery. Therefore, secondary values of a more tangible nature than rarity and beauty might be all that will be left for you to hang on to. Your business is not equipped to take advantage of any of the possibilities that may be locked away in that rarity and beauty we all admire, while we, on the other hand, are fully equipped to exploit its potential.”
Gabler tried not to betray the elation he felt on hearing Wildenmiller’s words. “I don’t know what to say, except that I don’t agree with your assessment,” he said carefully. “If we are both operating from the same set of facts,