第 35 页

17

On 4 January 1930 Abel Rosnovski arrived in Boston. He took a taxi from the station to Kane and Cabot and was a few minutes early. He sat in the reception room, which was larger and more ornate than any bedroom in the Chicago Richmond. He started reading the Wall Street journal. 1930 was going to be a better year, the paper was trying to assure him. He doubted it. A prim, middle-aged woman entered the room.

'Mr. Kane will see you now, Mr. Rosnovski.'

Abel rose and followed her down a long corridor into a small oak-panelled room with a large leather-topped desk, behind which sat a tall, good-looking man who must, Abel thought, have been about the same age as himself. His eyes were as blue as Abel's. There was a picture on the wall behind him of an older man, whom the young man behind the desk greatly resembled. I'll bet that's Dad, thought Abel bitterly. You can be sure he'll survive the collapse; banks always seem to win both ways.

'My name is William Kane,' said the young man, rising and extending his hand. 'Please have a seat, Mr. Rosnovski.'

'Thank you,' said Abel.

William stared at the little man in his ill-fitting suit, but also noted the determined eyes.

'Perhaps you will allow me to apprise you of the latest situation as I see it,' continued the blue-eyed young man.

'Of course.'

'Mr. Leroy's tragic and premature death ...' William began, hating the pomposity of his words.

Caused by your callousness, thought Abel.

'. . . seems to have left you with the immediate responsibility of running the group until the bank is in a position to find a buyer for the hotels. Although one hundred per cent of the shares of the group are now in your name, the property, in the form of eleven hotels, which was held as collateral for the late Mr. Leroy's loan of two million dollars, is legally in our possession. This leaves you with no responsibility at all, and if you wish to disassociate yourself from the critire operation, we will naturally understand.'

An insulting thing to suggest, thought William, but it has to be said.

The sort of thing a banker would expect a man to do, walk away from something the moment any problem arose, thought Abel.

William Kane continued. 'Until the two million debt to the bank is cleared I fear we must consider the estate of the late Mr. Leroy insolvent. We at the bank appreciate your personal involvement with the group, and we have done nothing about disposing of the hotels until we had the opportunity to speak to you in person. We thought it possible you might know of a party interested in the purchase of the property, as the building, the land and the business are obviously a valuable asset.'

'But not valuable enough for you to back me,' said Abel.

He ran his hand wearily through his thick, dark hair. 'How long will you give me to find a buyer?'

William hesitated for a moment when he saw the silver band around Abel Rosnovski's wrist. He had seen that band somewhere before, but he couldn't think where. 'Thirty days. You must understand that the bank is carrying the day-today losses on ten of the eleven hotels. Only the Chicago Richmond is making a small profit.'

'If you would give me the time and backing, Mr. Kane, I could turn all the hotels into profitable concerns. I know I could,' said Abel. 'Just give me the chance to prove I can do it, sir.' Abel found the last word sticking in his throat.

'So Mr. Leroy assured the bank when he came to see us last autumn,' said William. 'But these are hard times. There's no telling if the hotel trade will pick up, and we are not hoteliers, Mr. Rosnovski; we are bankers!

Abel was beginning to lose his temper with the smoothly dressed banker - 'young': Davis had been right. 'They'll be hard times all right for the hotel staff,' he said. 'What will they do if you sell off the roofs from over their heads? What do you imagine will happen to them?'

'I am afraid they are not our responsibility, Mr. Rosnovski. I must act in the bank's best interests!

'In your own best interests, don't you mean, Mr. Kane?' said Abel hotly.

The young man flushed. 'That is an unjust remark, Mr. Rosnovski, and I would greatly resent it if I did not understand what you are going through.'

'Too bad you didn't wheel out your understanding in time for Davis Leroy,' said Abel. 'He could have used it. You killed him, Mr. Kane, just as surely as if you had pushed him out of that window yourself, you and your simon-pure colleagues, sitting here on your backsides while we sweat our guts out to be sure you can take a rake-off when times are good and tread an people when times are bad.'

William, too, was beconiing angry. Unlike Abel Rosnovski, he did not show it. 'This line of discussion is getting us nowhere, Mr. Rosnovski. I must warn you that if you are unable to find a purchaser for the group within thirty days, I shall have no choice but to put the hotels up for auction on the open market.'

'You'll be advising me to ask another bank for a loan next,' said Abel sarcastically. 'You know my record, and you won't back me, so where the hell do you expect me to go from here ?'

'I'm afraid I have no idea,' replied William. 'That's entirely up to you. My board's instructions are simply to wind up the account as quickly as possible, and that is what I intend to do. Perhaps you would be kind enough to contact me no later than 4 February, and let me know whether you have had any success in finding a buyer. Good day, Mr. Rosnovski.'

William rose from behind the desk, and again offered his hand. This time Abel ignored it and went to the door.

'I thought after our phone conversation, Mr. Kane, you might feel embarrassed enough to offer a helping hand. I was wrong. You're just a bastard through and through, so when you go to bed at night, Mr. Kane, be sure to think about me. When you wake up in the morning, think about me again, because I'll never cease thinking about my plans for you.'

William stood frowning at th closed door. The silver band still bothered him - where had he seen it before?

His secretary returned. 'What a dreadful little man,' she said.

'No, not really,' replied William. 'He thinks we killed his business partner, and now we are disbanding his company without any thought for his employees, not to mention himself, when he had actually proved to be very capable. Mr. Rosnovski was remarkably polite in the circumstances, and I must confess I was almost sorry the board felt unable to back him.'

He looked up at his secretary.

'Get me Mr. Cohen on the phone.'

18

Abel arrived back in Chicago on the morning of the following day, still preoccupied and furious with his treatment at the hands of William Kane.

He didn't catch exactly what the boy was shouting at the comer news-stand as he hailed a cab and climbed into the back seat.

'The Richmond Hotel, please!

'Are you from the newspapers?' asked the cab driver as he moved out on to State Street.

'No, what made you ask that?' said Abel.

'Oh, only because you asked for the Richmond. All the reporters are there today.'

Abel couldn't remember any functions scheduled for the Richmond that would attract the press.

The cab driver continued. 'If you're not a newspaper man, maybe I should take you to another hotel.'

'Why?' asked Abel, even more puzzled.

'Well, you won't have a very good night's sleep if you're booked in there. The Richmond has been burned to the ground.'

As the cab turned the corner of the block, Abel was faced head on with the smouldering shell of the Richmond Hotel. Police cars, fire engines, charred wood and water Oooding the street. He stepped out of the cab and stared at the scorched remains of the flagship of Davis Leroy's group.

The Pole is wise when the damage is done, thought Abel, as he clenched his fist and started banging on his lame leg. He felt no pain - there was nothing lef t to feel.

'You bastards,' he shouted aloud. 'I've been lower than this before, and I'll still beat every one of you. Germans, Russians, Turks, that bastard Kane, and now this. Everyone. I'll beat you all. Nobody kills Abel Rosnovski.'

The assistant manager saw Abel gesticulating by the cab and ran over to him. Abel forced himself to be calm. 'Did all the staff and guests get out of the hotel safely?' he asked.

'Yes, thank God. The hotel was nearly empty, so getting everyone out was no great problem. There were one or two minor injuries and burns, and they are being dealt with at the hospital, but there's nothing for you to worry about.'

'Good, at least that's a relief. Thank God the hotel was well insured, over- a million if I remember. We may yet be able to turn this disaster to our advantage!

'Not if what they are suggesting in the late papers is true.'

'What do you mean?' asked Abel.

'I'd rather you read it for yourself, boss,' the assistant manager replied.

Abel walked over to the news-stand and paid the boy two cents for the latest edition of the Chicago Tribune. The banner headline told it all, RICHMOND HOTEL BLAZE - ARSON SUSPECTED Abel shook his head incredulously and re-read the headline.

'Can anything else happen?' he muttered.

'Got yourself a problem?' the newsboy asked.

'A little one,' said Abel and returned to his assistant manager.

'Who's in charge of the police enquiry?'

'That officer over there leaning on the police car,' said the assistant manager, pointing to a tall, spare man who was going prematurely bald. 'His name is Lieutenant O'Malley!'

'It would be,' said Abel. 'Now you get the staff into the annex, and I'll see them all there at ten o'clock tomorrow morning. If anybody wants me before then, I'll be staying at the Stevens until I get this thing sorted out.'

'Will do, boss!'

Abel walked over to Lieutenant O'Malley and introduced himself.

The tall, thin policeman stooped slightly to shake hands with Abel.

'Ah, the long lost ex-manager has returned to his charred remains!'

'I don't find that funny, officer,' said Abel.

'I'm sorry,' he said. 'It isn't funny. It's been a long night. Let's go and have a drink.'

The policeman took Abel by the elbow and guided him across Michigan Avenue to a cafe on the corner. Lieutenant O'Malley ordered two milk shakes.

Abel laughed when the white, frothy mixture was put in front of him.

Since he had never had a youth, it was his first milk shake.

'I know. It's funny, everybody in this city breaks the law drinking bourbon and beer,' said the detective, 'so someone has to play the game straight. In any case, Prohibition isn't going to last for ever, and then my troubles will begin, because the gangsters are going to discover I really do like milk shakes.'

Abel laughed for a second time.

'Now to your problems, Mr. Rosnovski. First I have to tell you, I don't think you have a snowball's chance in hell of picking up the insurance on that hotel. The fire experts have been going over the remains of the building with a fine tooth-comb and they found the place was soaked in kerosene. No attempt to even disguise it. There were traces of the stuff all over the basement. One match and the building must have gone up like a Roman candle!

'Do you have any idea who is responsible?' asked Abel.

'Let me ask the questions. Do you have any idea who might bear a grudge against the hotel or you personally?'

Abel grunted. 'About fifty people, Lieutenant, I cleared out a real can of worms when I first arrived here. I can give you a list, if you think it might help.'

'I think it might, but the way people are talking out there, I may not need it,' said the lieutenant. 'But if you pick up any definite information, let me know, Mr. Rosnovski. You let me know, because I warn you, you have enemies out there! He pointed into the milling street.

'What do you mean?' asked Abel.

'Someone is saying you did it, because you lost everything in the crash and needed the insurance money.'

Abel leaped off his stool.

'Calm down, calm down. I know you were in Boston all day and, more important, you have a reputation in Chicago for building hotels up, not burning them down. But someone did burn the Richmond down, and you can bet your ass I'm going to find out who. So let's leave it at that for the moment.' He swivelled off his own stool. 'The milk shake's on me, Mr.

Rosnovski. I'll expect a favour from you sometime in the future.'

He smiled at the girl at the cash desk, admiring her ankles and cursing the new fashion for long skirts. He handed her fifty cents. 'Keep the change, honey.'

'A big thank you,' the girl replied.

'Nobody appreciates me,' said the lieutenant.

Abel laughed for a third time, which he would not have thought possible an hour before.

'By the way,' the lieutenant continued as they reached the door, 'the insurance people are looking for you. I can't remember the name of the guy, but I guess he'll find you. Don't hit him. If he feels you were involved, who can blame him? Keep in touch, Mr. Rosnovski. I'll be wanting to talk to you again.'

Abel watched the lieutenant vanish into the crowd of spectators and then walked slowly over to the Stevens Hotel and booked himself in for the night. The desk clerk, who had already checked most of the Richmond's guests in, couldn't suppress a smile at the idea of booking the manager in, too. Once in his room, Abel sat down and wrote a formal letter to Mr. William Kane, giving him whatever details of the fire he could supply, and telling him that he intended to use his unexpected freedom to make a round of the other hotels in the group. Abel could see no point in hanging around in Chicago warming himself in the Richmond embers, in the vain hope that someone would come along and bail him out.

After a first class breakfast at the Stevens the next morning - it always made Abel feel good to be in a well-run hotel - he walked over to see Curtis Fenton at the Continental Trust Bank and apprise him of Kane and Caboes attitude -or to be more accurate of William Kane's attitude. Although Abel thought the request was pointless, he added that he was looking for a buyer for the Richmond Group at two million dollars.