"Probably," said Heller, "the good news is that they will feed me breakfast before they exterminate me. So go ahead."
"You should have been suspicious when they let you win so much for so long. In order to pay the bets you were placing with such wild abandon, they dragged down every casino's cash, every bank account the corporation had. They even wired money in from Las Vegas. They also collected in advance from all hotel guests. They exhausted every possible source of cash they could lay their hands on so it would flow back to them through you, laundered as corporation losses.
"The corporation cash-liquidity picture is minus millions and millions. And it also has to honor the IOU markers issued like an avalanche at the end of the night, and so we come to the nasty subject of debt.
"Money they should have paid for utilities-phone, lights, water-for months has been going into their pockets. So the service was cut off today on all these, and to it is added heating oil. It even includes gasoline charge accounts for the extensive corporation rolling stock.
"All staff of all the corporation's numerous businesses are unpaid and have been for some time. The government IRS withholding tax is also missing.
"The money which went into the staff pension funds was invested in businesses which mysteriously failed, and so the pension fund has to be made up.
"All state and local taxes, including sales tax, are owing for the past year.
"Most of the hotel equipment is on time-payment contracts and those companies want to take the equipment back, even the furnaces.
"It's winter and there is no yacht traffic for the marina and nothing is travelling on the Intracoastal Waterway.
"It's winter and there's nothing one can do with the amusement piers.
"It's winter and there are no vacationers to fill the hotels."
Heller shivered. "Is that all?"
"No," said Izzy. He was unfolding a newspaper. "That spaghetti-eating schlemazel Piegare must have talked to the press right away last night, the schmuck. Have you seen this?" He was holding the front page of the New York Grimes before Heller's eyes. It said:
WHIZ KID STEALS
ATLANTIC CITY
The resort metropolis is the first American city to be stolen since the Indians ripped off Roanoke from Sir Walter Raleigh in A.D. 1590.
In a raging midnight gun battle which local police and the Army did not stop, Jerome Terrance Wister, known as the "Whiz Kid,"...
"Oh, my Gods," said Heller, reading no further.
"It's in every paper, local and national, that I spotted on the stands in New York," said Izzy. "Headlines!"
I really laughed. Izzy thought Piegare had talked to the press. But whether he had or not made no difference. Madison! Good old J. Walter Madison, priceless Madison: that marvel of PR had Rockecenter's Underworld Crime Computer Bank right at his fingertips. He had jumped onto the job, feeding a story to the media within minutes. What a genius!
Heller groaned, "Isn't there any good news at all?"
Izzy said, "I think you should come down to the auditorium. The employees are meeting there and they comprise about a quarter of the population of Atlantic City. I can't face that many people."
Heller opened his tattered beachwear denim jacket and buckled on his gun. He drew it and checked the load.
Izzy cried, "Oh, dear! This can't be solved by persuading more people to shoot at you! I only want you there when they start coming over the tops of the seats to tear me to pieces."
Heller threw his black leather trench coat over his shoulders, locked and hid his grip and then followed Izzy out into the dark passageway.
They had to walk down many flights of steps, as the elevators were not running. They came at last into the back of a vast auditorium. It was lit only with kerosene camping lights.
It was jammed with people, thousands of them. Waiters, cooks, maids, croupiers, doormen, marina sailors, clerks, janitors, drivers, pilots, carnival barkers, topless dancers and every other kind of riffraff it takes to run casino-hotels, amusement piers, clubs, marinas and honky-tonks. Even security guards were there but they sure weren't on duty to keep things orderly. What a tough collection! They weren't the Mafia: they were the employees of all the enterprises the Mafia had taken over and now dumped.
A low growl began to rise. Fingers began to point. Teeth began to show. And they were all directed at Heller as he walked down the aisle toward the auditorium stage. From those expressions, he was about as popular as a skunk with rabies. What an enjoyable moment for me!
Izzy cringed close to Heller. He whispered, "Don't fire them all at once. They'll riot and we'll have hospital bills. We have made no arrangements with them."
Heller whispered back, a little savagely, "Haven't you done anything?"
Izzywhispered, "It's an almost impossible business situation. I did file a name change for the corporation. Scalpello is too notorious. But that won't alter its debts."
They were walking up the steps to the stage. It was totally empty except for a set of trap drums. Izzy whispered, "I couldn't get any of my relatives to take over any director or officer posts. You own the shares, but I can't let you get involved any deeper. So I had to do the best I could."
Heller was about to turn and face the sullen audience but Izzy steered him further, pushing him off to the side of stage right. There was a little room there, probably a dressing room for performers. Izzy stopped Heller before they could enter. Heller peeked in.
The Countess Krak was sitting there with Mamie Boomp and Tom-Tom. The room was feebly lit by a single burning candle.
Heller whispered to Izzy, "What's that drummer doing there? He helped with the sacks last night but he can't count above four."
Izzy whispered, "I know. That's why I appointed, him treasurer and secretary. He won't die of fright looking at the horrible corporation balance sheets."
I turned on Krak's viewer. By it, I could see Heller peering in, clothes looking ragged under his loose trench coat. My, his depressed expression was wonderful to see! It really exhilarated me. Oh, how the mighty had fallen!
Mamie Boomp said, "Hello, sailor. Would you mind loaning me that raggedy workman's jacket you've got on under your trench coat? It's freezing."
Heller looked at her. She was wearing a sequined blouse and a wide skirt. Gentleman that he was, he shrugged off the trench coat that lay loosely on his shoulders, took off the raggedy workman's jacket and held it for her to put on. She got into it and buttoned it up to her throat. My, but she looked weird. Like a plumber or something! Fat lot she really knew about clothes.
Izzy said, "Now, Mr. Jet, as you are the principal and only stockholder, we can waive the formalities of a shareholder meeting. Please sign these papers." He laid them on a small side table.
Heller bent over the papers poising a pen. He read the top lines. Mamie Boomp had been appointed president and general manager!
He looked up wide-eyed. Krak was looking at him very sternly. She made a small signing motion with her hand.
Heller signed.
At once, Mamie Boomp, Tom-Tom and the Countess Krak rose and started out onto the stage.
Heller also started to go with them. Mamie Boomp, with the flat of her hand, pushed him solidly backwards, making him sit down in a chair. She said, "You stay here, sailor, and act as marines if they land on us. But don't come out otherwise until I give you your cue."
They walked out on the stage and Tom-Tom absent-mindedly closed the dressing-room door behind them.
Heller turned to Izzy, "Why are we doing anything at all? The Grabbe-Manhattan Bank will padlock the doors."
Izzy said, "Oh, the bank. Well, when I called the Gambling Commission of New Jersey to tell them their order to Piegare to sell the corporation had been executed, they dropped the case and extended the corporation's license."