Chapter

50

Mathews was pleased with all I had to share about Peaches, the night, the music, my kicking back and just going with the flow, etcetera. What he was less than delighted about was the Sobel call.

“She was that pleasant?” he said. “Like a next-door neighbor.”

“Well, not a New York next-door neighbor. Whatever she’s got to say, she sounds like she knows our response already. And the “slip one four zero” reference... Mmm… sounds like she either still believes certain things about you, or she’s still testing.”

He stood and pondered a moment at the window. “Nice day for sailing. Wonder if the weather will hold through Saturday?”

“Don’t you think we should take Palmer?”

He turned back to me with his thinking cap still on. He was, after all, my doctor first and last. “I think you should consider that, but then again, being totally Charles Randall is going to require you to make your own decisions someday. Are you ready now?”

“Totally Charles Randall” stayed on my mind over the next three days. I spent more time alone, like Mathews had continued to recommend. I roamed the city at all hours. I was trying to be totally Charles Randall without Sara or Mathews propping me up. I even drove the bike past places I knew a man named Charlie Stevens had known.

I passed Mr. Finch at the Harley dealership...waving was easy. A cruise by Ivan’s postal service left me wanting to go inside, but he too was a prop. I had to keep pumping the iron down deep inside. I had so little time to get strong...to be ready. I didn’t even want to depend on Mathews.  I was preparing to have him along as a witness to whatever she had to say, but she was going to have to deal with me...alone.

“Totally Charles Randall...totally Charles Randall...totally Charles Randall.” By Saturday afternoon the familiar phrase had become a war cry. I was ready. As Mathews and I approached the marina, I stopped for a moment.

“What’s the matter,” asked Mathews.

“A voice.” I mused.

“We can still cancel.”

I smiled. “No. ‘It’s okay to just be.’ That’s all he said.”

“What?” said Mathews.

I started to walk again. “You comin’ or gettin’ cold feet?”

140 was a fitting number. That’s about how long this ultra-modern mini-chateau on the water appeared to be as we approached her two-story fiberglass hull. Her colors, dominated by the D.S.R. logo flag, were in full array with the ocean breeze, and her crew in starched white and French sailor caps looked like an ad for Rum or some other South Seas’ lure.

From the all glass enclosed captain’s bridge came a quiet captain-like voice over the loud speaker. “Welcome aboard, gentlemen.”

As we started up the dockside stairwell to the deck, two Asian ship’s mates and a more authoritarian looking man in full uniform, stood at the top and extended greetings. Whatever Sobel had to say, she seemed to want it embellished with pure luxury.

We were taken to one of the private cabins where a bottle of Dom Perignon on ice was sitting beside a bouquet of fresh cut flowers.

“Sir?” the Chinese cabin boy gestured to the glasses.

“No, thank you,” I said with reluctance. Having champagne would have been elegant and appropriately polite, but I was hesitant to have anything that might soften the focus I had for this day. “Not right now. Mathews?”

“Hey...I’m just a ‘witness.’” He motioned for the boy to pour.

“Is Ms. Sobel here yet?” I queried as he poured.

“She wishes you both join her at your convenience. She in lounge topside.” “Thank you. We’ll be up shortly.”

The cabin boy excused himself and left us to our privacy. “Mathews,” I said with the authority of the millionaire I was trying to absolve. “Tell me it doesn’t fit.”

“What? All this and you?”

“Yeah.”

“Not a chance.” He made a fitting gesture with his interlaced fingers and smiled. “Like a glove, Charles...without your excess baggage of course.”

“You’d have me own one of these without any women around? Is that it?”

“Remember your teachers. You could cruise to Brazil with Sara, Max, Julian and Peaches in this and get your ‘bird and music’ at the same time.”

I looked around the richly appointed room and snickered. “Yeah. Peaches would call us both assholes.”

“Pardon?” “Nothing.”

I did keep wondering how he’d peg Sobel. I didn’t have to wonder long.

“So good to see you, Charles. Dr. Mathews.” She was looking every inch the Fortune 500 queen. Her silk double-breasted blue blazer draped the equally as silky white T-shirt and fashionable pajama-like pants. Right down to the D.S.R. logo on the breast pocket and her custom Gucci boat shoes.  Lauren Sobel was the perfect looking host. She leaned in to plant the obligatory kiss on each of Mathews’ cheeks.

As she leaned in to repeat the ceremony with me, she whispered, “Your favorite.”

My favorite? She obviously wasn’t talking to Charles. I got the peck on each side and then she gestured for us to make ourselves comfortable on the white leather couch that all but surrounded the lounge.

Before us was a sculptured glass coffee table with a spread of miniature breads, lox, caviar, etcetera. Beneath the layout, the base of the table served as a unique aquarium.

“Impressive,” I said, gazing down at the multicolored tropical fish swimming around the miniature sharks that had also fallen victim to the indulgent rich.

“Oh,” she smiled, “that’s something one never forgets when they visit the ‘Princess.’”

I’d noticed the matchbooks everywhere. All had “Princess - D.S.R.” identifying the ship. Was she loving the double-entendre?

“Well,” I volunteered in my most “double-entendre” voice, “the whole...should I say, event...is impressive.” I started to prepare a small plate as the waiter poured me a glass of champagne. “The ship must be a lucrative writeoff.”

“Yes,” she answered with a subtle smile, “but you’d be surprised at the business a few hours on the Princess creates. We’ve courted some very important clients around the world and believe it or not, Donald offered twenty- three million for her just last month.”

“Donald?” I asked.

Mathews raised of his eyebrows feebly.

“Yes… THE Donald. He could be gone tomorrow though, with that newest wife of his. You know the talk is she’s on to him and his...busy schedule. Speaking of busy schedules, I had a dreadful week of bank problems out here, so today is truly a pleasure. Thank you for joining me.”

She leaned across the table and prepared herself a small plate as she went on. “I hope you don’t think me rude, Doctor, in asking Charles to bring you along, but what we need to talk about is rather delicate and...well, you’ve been his closest friend and advisor in the past.  My God, it’s getting to be seven months now, isn’t it, Charles. She turned back to Mathews.  “But anyway, I just thought it best you hear and help him with what advice I sought from our legal department as well. It’s not an easy problem.”

“When do we hear ‘the problem’?” I asked, feeling impatient with the slippery handling of our visit so far.

She sat back, adjusted her silks just right and began. As she nibbled her caviar and sipped champagne, she gradually took on the cooler demeanor I had seen in her New York office. Sobel was together. She knew which faucet had the cold, which the hot. It was easy to understand her success, and her attraction to men with power and money. It didn’t take long to realize power and money were the “problems.” In this case, her power, my money.

She outlined to us in the next hour, the reasons behind her “concern” as she put it.

Hardly a concern. Pure panic cloaked in concern would have been more accurate.

Without the power of attorney, or my consent now, she stood to lose a lot of profit and her reputation. According to her, I stood to lose a lot more than profits. That icy warning was not without substance.

As she explained it, the Stevens Company had over 50 % of its assets tied up in real estate and property development. A small portion of which was a group of islands in the South Pacific, about three-quarters of the way between Hawaii and Australia, called Vanuatu. Sobel had been working with Orlando, with the Mirage, and his fellow casino owners, Rousso and Albergetti. According to her, Charlie in July last year had given the okay and his blessing on the formation of an investment bank, financed with the Stevens Company’s two hundred million worth of paper.

Operating the bank offshore, the plan was to partner with Orlando, Rousso and Albergetti in putting up a luxury hotel and casino on land Charlie owned running along the shores of the main island of Vanuatu. In addition, the airport was to be expanded to facilitate jumbo jet travel, a gesture more than welcomed by the government’s chief of state.

The largest convention hotel, resort and casino in the world was to accommodate five thousand. Travel agents had already guaranteed six solid months of occupancy for 2007. Anticipated profits were enormous.

She summed up her presentation with, “It’s common knowledge that these men are ruthless when it comes to business. The Stevens Company helped build three other hotels for them and the company has been kicking back gambling winnings for years to these gentlemen. They’re family. All four, like brothers. Reneging on a deal could be...very unpleasant. Anyone who’s dealt with them before knows they’re not above mob mentality...even with their own.”

She leaned into our attentive postures and administered her coup de grace. “A signature for one hundred seventeen million, covering twenty five percent of the venture, is due the Vanuatu government on the fifteenth of next month. The partners are expecting either yours or my signature.”

To tell you the truth gentlemen, the revocation is more than just a routine business reversal. I’m frightened. My firm is frightened. And you should be petrified if you’re intending to ignore the commitment and use your money elsewhere.”

With that, she picked up the phone. “Six o’clock will be fine to serve, Philip.” Another touch of her phone pad and, “We can get under way now.” She then turned to us. “I know you both must want to freshen up before dinner.”

With a toasting gesture, she raised the glass to her lips and sipped the remaining champagne. As I reciprocated, her eyes remained fixed on me.

Maybe she knew why I appeared strangely familiar with all she’d said about me. I was blank.

Once we were behind closed doors in our cabin, Mathews exploded. “’Freshen up for dinner’ as if she were hosting a fucking party. You’re in trouble, Charles. She doesn’t believe you. No way. You’re as Charlie to her today as you’ve ever been.”

“So, that’s her problem. Not mine.”

“No, Charles. I’m afraid it is yours. As long as we can’t find another Charlie...you’re it as far as she’s concerned.”

“We already told her we weren’t doing any business until Charlie could be found.”

“You’re still not getting it. This is past business she’s talking about. Commitments before any of this happened. And besides, she thinks she was sitting across from Charlie. As far as she’s concerned, your ‘Charles’ alias was to dump her and get out from underneath this deal. She’s starting to read you like a book.”

“That’s crazy.”

“I wouldn’t say that in front of her. She’d probably think the kettle was calling the pot black.”

“Is that why she asked you to come? Decide who’s the craziest?”

“No. But, she knows you well enough to know you could flip out over this. I’m the best insurance she could buy.”

“Did she?”

“Did she what?”

“Did she buy you?”

“C’mon Charles. She’ll try though. She’s textbook.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For?”

“The ‘buying you’ comment… the trust thing.”

“Expected. Normal. Just don’t forget we both understand it’s normal,so don’t take it seriously. Okay?”

I had to smile. Right now I felt like I had a Rambo at my side. I reached in my pocket and lifted out my bottle of security. “First one today. Thought I’d make it.”

He had to smile, too. “You were crawling a few months ago. Don’t be afraid to walk before you run.”

He handed me some water. I downed the pill.