Through an archway of carefully pruned greenery they walked, past a pair of desks flanking their green-carpeted path, each occupied by another sleek-looking young woman. Garrison likes his scenery, Dan thought. Or maybe he has ’em here to impress visitors.
They went around a seven-foot-high hedge and there was Wendell T. Garrison himself, sitting in his powered wheelchair behind a desk big enough to land a helicopter on.
Garrison was peering intently into a slim display screen as Dan and his escort Came into his view. He looked up and the screen slowly folded itself into the top of his massive desk.
“Dan Randolph,” Garrison croaked, his weathered face breaking into a big welcoming smile. He backed the chair away from the desk and drove around it toward Dan.
“Sorry I can’t stand up,” he said, extending his hand. Dan took it in his own. Garrison’s hand felt cool and dry, reminding Dan of a snake’s skin.
“C’mon over here,” the old man said, driving off toward a corner where a small, round table stood next to windows that ran from floor to ceiling. Dan could see cars crawling along the city streets far, far below. It’s almost like being in orbit, he thought.
“You can go now, sugar,” Garrison said to Dan’s escort. “If I want anything I’ll call.”
Despite the lush garden and the hothouse atmosphere, the huge room was still cool enough for Dan to keep his jacket on. Garrison wore a gray business suit, his shirt collar unbuttoned and a bolo tie hanging loosely down his shirt front, which was as wrinkled as his wizened face. Dan couldn’t make out the greenish gray stone in the bolo, although its setting was clearly silver.
“You want anything? Drink? Lunch?”
“No thanks,” said Dan as he sat next to the old man.
“Okay, then let’s get right to business.”
“Suits me fine.”
“You need a cash influx. I’m willin’ to put a bill or so into your company. How much of a percentage can I buy?”
Dan was a little taken aback by his bluntness, but decided that he liked the direct approach.
“Mr. Garrison, I don’t want to sell any part of Astro Corporation to anybody. I want to keep control of my company.”
“Of course, of course. But what you want doesn’t jibe with your financial situation, now does it?”
“I’d be glad to borrow a billion from you,” Dan said.
“At today’s interest rates?”
“LIBOR plus one percent.”
“The Brit bankers’ rate? How about prime from the good old U.S.A.? Plus two.”
“The London interbank rate suits me better.”
Garrison laughed, a wheezing cackle. “Well, you got balls, I’ll say that much for you.”
Smiling back at the old man, Dan replied, “And I don’t intend to give ’em away.”
Garrison nodded. “Can’t say I blame you. How’d you like that cutie that brought you up here, eh? I can fix you up with her for dinner tonight.”
“I’ll be going back to Matagorda tonight.”
“H’mp.”
“About that loan…”
“Not interested in a loan, son. If I put out money for you I expect a share of your company. That’s reasonable and fair.”
Dan nodded; he had to admit Garrison was right.
“Who owns Astro now?”
From the look in the old man’s flinty eyes, Dan figured he already knew such details. “I do,” he answered. “Most of the shares. Sunk every penny I ever saw into it.”
“Uh-huh. And who else?”
“A couple of banks. A lot of smaller investors. My employees own a chunk.”
Garrison scratched at his chin. “They own how much, fifteen percent?”
Right on the nose, Dan thought. “Just about fifteen, yes.”
“Okay, I’ll buy fifteen percent. You can take it out of your own shares. I’ll pay one point five billion. That ought to raise the value of your stock quite a bit.”
“I’d rather have a loan.”
Garrison shook his head.
“Yamagata’s already offered me a loan.”
The old man’s eyes snapped. “You don’t want to be taking money from the Japs, son. They’re out to cut your throat.”
Dan admitted, “Yamagata wasn’t happy when I started the project. He sees it as competition for his own interests.”
Waggling a bony finger under Dan’s nose, Garrison said, “If you’re worried about somebody musclin’ you out of your company, worry about the Japs. Not me.”
The two men talked for more than an hour without coming to an agreement. Dan promised to think about Garrison’s offer of buying into Astro Corporation. “I’ll talk to some of my key board members about it,” he said.
“You do that,” said Garrison. “And remember, the clock’s ticking. You’re lookin’ at the edge of a cliff, son.”
“Don’t I know it,” Dan said.
Once Dan left, escorted again by the brunette, Garrison muttered to himself, “Got to turn up the screws on that boy. He’s too damn stubborn for his own good.”
Matagorda Island, Texas
Later that afternoon, Joe Tenny hustled along the catwalk from his office to Dan’s. He burst through the door to the outer office, startling Dan’s executive assistant.
“Gotta see the boss,” Tenny said.
April quickly regained her poise. “He’s in Houston, seeing Mr. Garrison.”
“When’s he due back?”
She shrugged her slim shoulders. “Later tonight.”
“Get him on his cell phone, willya?” Tenny said as he strode into Dan’s private office. For a moment April looked as if she wanted to stop him, but instead she turned to her desktop computer and pecked out a command.
Tenny slid into Dan’s desk chair. The display screen lit up to show Dan’s face. Before Tenny could speak a word, Dan’s image said, “I’m not available at the moment. Leave a message and a number where I can get back to you.”
Fuming impatiently, Tenny said into the screen, “Boss, I think I got an angle on who’s the skunk in the woodworks. I tracked down the people who had access to the command codes and the ground track. Call me on my cell right away.”
His message finished, Tenny jumped up from the chair and headed out of the office. As he breezed past April once again, he said, “If Dan calls in, transfer it to my cell phone. Top priority.”
“Yes, Dr. Tenny,” April said, in a hushed voice. Tenny always rattled her, and this day was worse than any previous.
Nine o‘clock and still no word from Dan, Tenny groused to himself as he paced the catwalk around the hangar. He glanced over the railing at the wreckage sprawled across the hangar’s concrete floor. He had called Dan four times since he’d barged into the boss’s office earlier in the afternoon; all he’d gotten was that shit-brained automatic message. What good is having a friggin’ cell phone if you keep it turned off all the time?
All right, Tenny admitted to himself, Dan wouldn’t want the phone bothering him while he’s meeting with Garrison. But he oughtta be flying back by now. He’s probably still got the friggin’ phone off while he’s flying the Staggerwing. Tough enough flying that clunker at night without phone calls interrupting your concentration, he reluctantly acknowledged.
I can’t just stand around here waiting! Tenny complained silently. He yanked his own cell phone out of his shirt pocket to make sure it was on and functioning. Okay, he thought as he stuffed it back into his pocket, no sense sitting here with my thumbs up my butt. He started down the steel steps, his boots clattering, echoing in the darkened hangar.
At the bottom he stopped and stared out at the wreckage of the spaceplane. Dirty, shit-eating sonsofbitches, he growled inwardly. They did this deliberately. They destroyed the plane and killed Hannah. Deliberately. In cold blood. Must have taken ‘em months to plan it out and get everything set. Friggin’ murderers.