The Scarlatti Inheritance(123)
Matthew Canfield stood by the wall, his left arm smarting badly in the sling, his right hand in his pocket, sweatily clutching his revolver. Since Elizabeth had identified Ulster Scarlett with the 270 million, he could not take his eyes off him. This man called Heinrich Kroeger. This hideous, arrogant son of a bitch was the man he wanted! This was the filthy bastard who had done it all! This was Janet’s personal hell.
“I see you all have your envelopes. Except, of course, the ubiquitous Mr. Kroeger. Gentlemen, I promised you I would not be unfair and I shan’t be. There are five of you who can not begin to appreciate the influence of Scarlatti unless you have, as they say in cheap merchandising, samples applicable to you alone. Therefore, as you read the contents of your envelopes, I shall briefly touch on these sensitive areas.”
Several of the men who had been reading shifted their eyes toward Elizabeth without moving their heads. Others put the papers down defiantly. Some handed the pages to aides and stared at the old woman. Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder at Matthew Canfield. She was worried about him. She knew he, at last, faced Ulster Scarlett, and the pressure on him was immense. She tried to catch his eye. She tried to reassure him with a look, a confident smile.
He would not look at her. She saw only the hatred in his eyes as he stared at the man called Heinrich Kroeger.
“I shall delineate alphabetically, gentlemen.… Monsieur Daudet, the Republic of France would be reluctant to continue awarding franchises to your fleet if they were aware of those ships under Paraguayan flag which carried supplies to France’s enemies in time of war.” Daudet remained motionless, but Elizabeth was amused to see the three Englishmen bristle at the Frenchman. The predictable, contradictory British!
“Oh, come, Mr. Innes-Bowen. You may not have run ammunition, but how many neutral ships were loaded off how many piers in India with textile cargoes bound for Bremerhaven and Cuxhaven during the same period?… And Mr. Leacock. You can’t really forget your fine Irish heritage, can you? The Sinn Féin has prospered well under your tutelage. Monies funneled through you to the Irish rebellion cost the lives of thousands of British soldiers at a time when England could least afford them! And quiet, calm Herr Olaffsen. The crown prince of Swedish steel. Or is he the king now? He might well be, for the Swedish government paid him several fortunes for untold hundreds of tons of low-carbon ingot. However, they didn’t come from his own superior factories. They were shipped from inferior mills half a world away—from Japan!”
Elizabeth reached into her briefcase once again. The men around the table were like corpses, immobile, only their minds were working. For Heinrich Kroeger, Elizabeth Scarlatti had placed the seal of approval on her own death warrant. He sat back and relaxed. Elizabeth withdrew a thin booklet from her briefcase.
“Lastly we come to Herr Thyssen. He emerges with the least pain. No grand fraud, no treason, only minor illegality and major embarrassment. Hardly a fitting tribute to the house of August Thyssen.” She threw the booklet into the center of the table. “Filth, gentlemen, just plain filth. Fritz Thyssen, pornographer! Purveyor of obscenity. Books, pamphlets, even motion pictures. Printed and filmed in Thyssen warehouses in Cairo. Every government on the Continent has condemned the unknown source. There he is, gentlemen. Your associate.”
For a long moment no one spoke. Each man was concerned with himself. Each calculated the damage that could result from old Scarlatti’s disclosures. In every instance the loss was accompanied by degrees of disgrace. Reputations could hang in balance. The old woman had
issued twelve indictments and personally returned twelve verdicts of guilty. Somehow, no one considered the thirteenth, Heinrich Kroeger.
Sydney Masterson pierced the belligerent air with a loud, manufactured cough. “Very well, Madame Scarlatti, you’ve made the point I referred to earlier. However, I think I should remind you that we are not impotent men. Charges and countercharges are parts of our lives. Solicitors can refute every accusation you’ve made, and I can assure you that lawsuits for unmitigated slander would be in the forefront.… After all, when gutter tactics are employed, there are expedient replies.… If you think we fear disdain, believe me when I tell you that public opinion has been molded by far less money than is represented at this table!”
The gentlemen of Zurich took confidence in Masterson’s words. There were nods of agreement.
“I don’t for one second doubt you, Mr. Masterson. Any of you.… Missing personnel files, opportunistic executives—sacrificial goats. Please, gentlemen! I only contend that you wouldn’t welcome the trouble. Or the anxiety which goes with such distasteful matters.”