9

The catalogs, when at long last they finally began to arrive from the various printers handling them, were masterpieces of the advertising art, and while Lisa was honestly amazed at their perfection, Kek’s main feeling was one of relief that they were finally off the presses. They had represented an enormous expenditure in both time and money, and while he was justifiably proud of the results, in general his temperament was such as to put past accomplishment in the past. True, he had every reason to be proud. He had had to locate photographs in color of products from what he had come to think of as “competitive” firms; he had done most of the editing, all of the layout, and had even handled the translations to the four languages in which they were printed, although this was the easiest of the tasks involved.

The first catalogs, concerning the virtues of the products produced by the Washington Harvester Company, were delivered on the twenty-ninth of December and the final one, extolling the advantages of the tractors of the Northern States Equipment Company, finally made it on the fifth of the following month. The others dropped in somewhere in between.

Each was mailed out as soon as it arrived, accompanied by an appropriate letter of transmittal:

UNITED STATES AGRICULTURAL EQUIPMENT CO.
Pinedale, Arizona

Ref: CJ-16

Correspondence to: P.O. Box 881-M Radio City Sta. New York, N.Y. Tel: RI-2-4579

Jan. 6, 1949

Waldeck Imports Cie.

Rue Viala 64, Heembeek

Bruxelles, Belgique

Att’n: M’sieu Vries Waldeck

Dear M’sieu Waldeck:

We are pleased to enclose our latest brochure giving you a general picture of the type of equipment we have been discussing to handle your problem in the drying and further processing of tobacco through the shredding and conveyorizing, ready for the cigarette machines themselves. On Page 3 of the catalog you will see a typical production line of the type we propose to furnish …

Kek skipped through the rest of the cover letter, checking the most important parts, although he knew that Lisa was excellent in her secretarial capacity. The price was there: $5,650,000. The price was stated to be binding for a period of ninety days, but not more. A formal quotation was promised to be in the mail within days. Terms of payment, normal: irrevocable letter of credit in the amount of twenty percent of the order to accompany the purchase order, deposited in escrow in a bank of mutual acceptance, balance of payment by further letter of credit, on delivery of the merchandise to the dock in New York. Forfeiture clause standard. May we expect to hear from you in regard to your formal order at your earliest convenience, etc., etc.

Kek nodded and then noted the JT/gvt at the bottom. The JT was John Tenza, as he knew. He glanced at Lisa.

“What on earth does the ‘gvt’ stand for?”

“I’m getting very tired,” Lisa said, and smiled at him.

“There’s just one thing that worries me,” Lisa said thoughtfully. It was the fifteenth day of February, the final quotations had gone out from the last company on the list, and her secretarial days—at least temporarily—were over.

The saturnine eyebrows over the gray eyes canted humorously. Kek lit a cigarette, shook out the match, dropped into a chair across from her, and smiled.

“Only one?”

“Well, no, darling. A lot.” She curled her feet under her on the couch and frowned at him. “First, darling, suppose your friend from the Argonaut Bank really does go to Arizona?”

“Oh, he went. But not to Pinedale.” Kek grinned. “He apologized profusely, but I guess he wasn’t up to traveling horseback.”

Lisa smiled with him. “Do you mean he honestly thinks the machinery we produce there is packed out by mules?”

“God knows what he thinks, but that danger is over—” He crossed his fingers. “At least for the time being.”

“And the son of Mr. Leeds?”

“Mr. Leeds,” Kek said, his grin remaining, “did not have a son. He had a daughter who married and moved away in 1936. Mr. Fairbanks remembered that on his third drink the last time I saw him.”

Lisa stared at him. “Then you think any danger from anyone here is over?”

Kek’s smile faded. He shook his head.

“I never believe danger is over. Ever. When I have the money in my hands without any hue and cry being raised, then—and only then—will I begin to think the danger might be over. Until that time, my motto is: Expect Anything. The chances are, you won’t be disappointed.” He saw the frown on her face. “Well, enough of my fears: what are yours?”

“Well,” Lisa said, “I only have two questions: suppose the Belgian government refuses to give Waldeck Imports the export licenses? Suppose they decide they want to save their foreign exchange, or use it for something more important?”

“More important than agricultural equipment? Today?” Kek shook his head decisively. “There is no such thing. Not with Europe in the condition it’s in right now. Food must come first, and will; and for a long time. And, whether you like it or approve of it or not, tobacco will come close behind.” He looked at her with a slight glint of humor in his eyes. “It’s precisely why we chose agricultural equipment, my sweet. It certainly wasn’t because of my great knowledge in the field. Nor”—he grinned—“yours.”

“Well, all right,” Lisa admitted, although a bit grudgingly. “But suppose they decide they want to buy it from someone else? Some other country? Say France, or England, or Italy, or”—she raised her hands palms up, shrugging expressively in pure Gallic fashion, indicating the full extent of the many possibilities—“Finland, if you wish. Who knows? Say, for political reasons …”

Kek shook his head.

“Even if the Belgian government had such an idea, there are at least two very good reasons why they would still buy from the United States. One, the other countries simply are not in a position to export yet; they have their hands full meeting their own needs. They couldn’t possibly meet delivery if they wanted to. And second, of course, the United States will wind up paying for the material eventually one way or the other, so why shouldn’t they buy from the United States?”

Lisa found another hook on which to hang her worries.

“But what if your prices are so much higher than anyone else’s that they can’t buy from you?”

“That’s question number three and you promised only two. I should disqualify you, but I won’t.” He leaned back in his chair, blowing smoke toward the ceiling, studying the striated design swirled into the plaster there by some artistic mason probably paid by the hour. His eyes came down. “If our prices are higher than any else’s, then I shall be truly astonished. Because you see, my sweet, I didn’t quote all of that equipment out of the blue—”

“You found prices in the encyclopedia?”

Kek grinned. “No; that’s the one thing they don’t even attempt. Probably because the cross-indexer couldn’t figure out how to work in the page numbers. No, I found them at the various consulates in town. Very cooperative people,” he added. “Anyway, I can guarantee our prices are lower than anybody’s. At least ten percent under our nearest competitor. Which isn’t so remarkable, when you think of it,” he said, his grin widening. “Think of our low overhead.”

“But—”

“Besides,” he went on candidly, “he is Vries Waldeck, after all, you know. If he doesn’t have a friend or two in the Export License Bureau, I’ll be quite surprised.”

Lisa still refused to give up. “But what if they check and find out your companies are simply box numbers? That the factories don’t exist?”

“This, no.” Huuygens shook his head decisively, and brushed ash from his cigarette. “This they will definitely not check. As far as they are concerned, the problem of checking a supplier’s credentials is the worry of the importer. After all, it’s his money he’s working with.” He shook his head again. “That is one thing I’m not worried about. The only one,” he added softly, almost to himself.

“But just suppose, despite all your arguments, Vries Waldeck still doesn’t get the licenses, darling. Just suppose? Then what?”

“You are stubborn,” Kek murmured and crushed out his cigarette. His gray eyes studied her blond beauty a moment. “Then, my sweet,” he said gently, “I suggest you seriously consider getting yourself another husband. For several reasons. First, I know how much you dislike poverty—either in yourself or in others. And secondly, in that case I am going to owe a matter of one hundred thousand dollars—plus the cost of the catalogs and other assorted minor expenses—to some extremely nasty men, and I am not going to be able to pay it, of course. Or even a little tiny part of it …”

The long winter months had not been the best introduction to New York for Lisa, but at least the activity involved in the furtherance of the Big Scheme had kept her occupied and relatively content. By early March, however, her new inactivity had driven her patience to its limit, and Kek decided that a trip home to Maastricht for her was the best solution. Accordingly, early in that month he bundled her aboard the Ile de France complete with an armful of novels and sufficient bonbons (should the ship’s store not have her variety). The trip was also designed to allow her to keep an eye on Vries Waldeck and see that nothing went wrong at that end.

It was a cloudy, windy day, with the threat of rain in the air, and Kek stood dutifully on the dock as the ship was tugged slowly into the Hudson. Lisa, a tiny blond figure among the other blurred faces lining the rail, waved frantically; it was not until the ship was well into stream and being swung against the current that she finally gave up and tearfully went below to unpack.

Huuygens caught a cab with the intention of returning to the apartment but then, with a change of mind, directed the driver to drop him off at the Lexington branch of the Battery Bank instead. He paid the cab, walked into the bank, and took the elevator to Mr. Fairbanks’ floor. Somehow today he didn’t want to have lunch alone, and he had become quite fond of the elderly vice-president of the bank.

Gloria recognized him at once and smiled at him brightly. She rang through to her superior, explained the guest, and a moment later ushered Huuygens into the office.

“Well, well, Jan! It’s been a long time, or at least it seems like a long time. I won’t ask how you are, because you look fine. And I won’t ask how things are coming, because I know.” Mr. Fairbanks shook hands without attempting to explain his cryptic statement, and remained standing, smiling brightly at the other.

“I thought,” Kek said, glancing at his watch, “that since it’s around lunchtime …”

“You thought very right,” Mr. Fairbanks said, and walked to the closet with a spry step. He took his topcoat, hesitated a moment over his hat, and then decided to take it along as well. He slipped into his garments and took Kek by the arm, ushering him to the door. “Lunch,” he said succinctly to Gloria, and started toward the outer door.

“But, Mr. Fairbanks, you have an engagement at the Club with—”

“Had,” Fairbanks corrected firmly. “Not have. Please let the gentleman know.” He led Kek toward the elevators. “Terrible man. Horrible bartender. Lousy club all around.” He pressed the Down button.

At the corner restaurant—where the two had lunched together frequently once Kek knew that no other banker of his acquaintance was apt to drop in—they surrendered their topcoats and hats to the stoic behind the cloakroom counter, and groped their way through the gloom of the room to a familiar table. The bartender, seeing them pass, automatically began to prepare their drinks. Seated, their faces illuminated only by the flickering of a candle englobed in a blue glass cage, they waited patiently, and in a matter of seconds their drinks were before them. Mr. Fairbanks clutched his in his usual manner, but instead of gulping half of it instantly, as was normal, he paused and raised the glass in a slight gesture of a toast.

“I thought it only appropriate to wait until proper libations were at hand before offering you my sincerest congratulations,” he said, and beamed. In the wavering light his smile was like that of the Cheshire Cat.

Kek stared at him. “What on earth for?”

This statement so startled Mr. Fairbanks that once again he forbore taking his drink down in two quick swallows. His bushy white eyebrows went up and down for several moments.

“You mean you don’t know? You haven’t heard?” He reached the end of his endurance and quaffed deeply, wiped his lips daintily, and returned his attention to his young companion. “Are you kidding me? Haven’t you read your mail this morning?”

It occurred to Kek that he hadn’t stopped at the postal boxes for several days; helping Lisa pack was a full-time chore that involved many visits to candy shops and bookstores, and in any event he had not expected any word for some weeks yet.

“No,” he said, his drink untouched. “I was at the docks this morning. My wife left to visit her mother in Belgium. She’s European, you know.”

“I didn’t know, but that’s unimportant. At the moment, I mean,” Mr. Fairbanks added hastily, not wishing to be misinterpreted. He returned to his original line of thought. “So that explains it …” He finished his drink and tapped the glass on the table. A disembodied arm, clothed in the black cloth of a tuxedo sleeve, reached from the darkness and retrieved it. “Well,” Mr. Fairbanks continued, grinning, “you’re going to get one hell of a surprise when you open your mail today. Because your deal with Waldeck went through!”

Kek felt a sudden tightening in his stomach. He started to pick up his drink, paused as if to forgo it, and then as if finally realizing the full import of the other’s words, picked it up and drained it. He tapped it on the table in approved Fairbanks’ style.

“Yes,” Mr. Fairbanks said, enjoying the expression on his young friend’s face, “it went through. I knew you were dickering with them, but I had no idea the deal was that ambitious. In any event, the escrow deposit was made with our bank this morning. How much did you finally end up peddling to them? Four million eight hundred thousand something, wasn’t it? Of your farm machinery? Well, we’re holding twenty percent of it for you right now.” He turned his head to see what was causing the delay at the bar and almost knocked the drinks out of the waiter’s hand. “Ah! That’s better. Well, here’s to more and better sales for your company.” He winked, raising his glass. “Through the New York office, of course. I imagine your family must be pleased.”

“They will be,” Kek said fervently. “They will be!” He picked up his glass and also raised it. “Here’s to the Battery Bank. And their expert advice on export sales, conditions, etc., etc.” He smiled. “It helped a great deal, you know.”

“Well,” Mr. Fairbanks said modestly, “it’s what we’re here for, you know,” and he finished his drink, tapping on the table. “Maybe we should order with our next drink. I imagine you’ll be wanting to get to your office and go through your mail …”

Kek Huuygens half-sat, half-lay in one of the easy chairs in the living room of the apartment, his legs sprawled before him, his gray eyes half closed, fixed on the ceiling but today not even noting the plaster swirls. A large glass of brandy stood on the small table at his elbow; the smoke from the cigarette held almost listlessly in the fingers of one hand drifted upward in lazy spirals, unnoticed. From the time he had lunched with Fairbanks and heard the good news regarding the Washington Harvester Company, in that one short—but also, oh, so long!—week, all of the licenses had been issued. All of them! Without the least sign of hesitation, doubt, or without the slightest investigation. It was incredible! Not that they were out of the woods; far from it. But the first huge giant step had been accomplished, and now there was really no reason for the scheme to do anything but succeed. So why was he worried?

Of course there were still a thousand things that could go wrong—he crushed his cigarette out almost unconsciously and fumbled for another, considering. He brought a match up and absentmindedly shook it out after lighting the cigarette. No; that was wrong. There weren’t even a hundred. In fact, there were very few. He felt sure that there had to be some, but in all honesty he could not see what they might be. As far as he could determine—and he was honestly searching for the darkest side of the picture—he had covered all possibilities of error. But then, he always did. He shook his head and reached for the brandy. No; as far as he could see, the only thing left to do was to wait for the date of forfeiture to roll around without the further letters of credit being issued and then simply go around to the banks and honestly and openly collect the escrow amounts legally due him.

For that was the big scheme, his method of getting Waldeck’s francs into the United States in dollars with the complete semblance of legality. Together with the licenses, Waldeck would have to pay an amount equal to the escrow deposit to the transferring bank in francs; the bank, of course, would forward actual dollars to its American counterpart. It was that simple!

In his mind’s eye he could visualize the list of his companies, their current bank assets, the amount of goods they had sold to Waldeck Imports, and the amount of escrow deposits in the five separate banks in New York. He took another sip of brandy, drew on his cigarette, and did the arithmetic in his head for the hundredth time, still searching for some error he might have committed, but none was visible. The figures however, were:

A.	The Washington Harvester Co., Secretary-Treasurer: Jan Vrebal. Present balance in the Battery Bank approximately $96,000. Sold to Waldeck Imports about $4,500,000. Escrow deposit made through the Banque de Ghent in the amount of roughly $900,000.
B.	The United States Agricultural Equipment Co., Secretary-Treasurer: John Tenza. Present balance in the Argonaut Bank approximately $45,000. Sold to Waldeck Imports about $5,700,000. Escrow deposit made through the Banque Nationale de Bruxelles in the amount of roughly $1,140,000.
C.	Pittsburgh Farm Equipment Co., Secretary-Treasurer: Johann Klees. Present balance in the Lexington Trust approximately $136,000. Sold to Waldeck Imports about $6,200,000. Escrow deposit made through the Banque de Heembeek in the amount of roughly $1,240,000.
D.	The International Farm Equipment Co., Secretary-Treasurer: Jack Gleba. Present balance in the General Manhattan Bank approximately $65,000. Sold to Waldeck Imports about $4,300,000. Escrow deposit made through Wallenstein Frères in the amount of roughly $860,000.
E.	The Northern States Equipment Co., Secretary-Treasurer: John J. Debroski. Present balance in the North River Bank approximately $48,115. Sold to Waldeck Imports about $4,900,000. Escrow deposit made through Banque Hollandaise in the amount of roughly $980,000.

He took another sip of the brandy and smiled. Total sold: $25,000,000. Total to be forfeited inside of two months: $5,000,000. Openly and aboveboard. As scheduled. His share: $1,000,000.

If something doesn’t come along to louse it up, he added to himself wryly, and finished his brandy. And if almost nothing could come along to louse it up, why did he have this cold feeling that something would?