“Working through Claiborne’s bullpen, you started a rumor that Petrol’s new Chilean oil field was going to be taken over by the Chilean government. Then you sold ten thousand shares of Petrol short. That worked, didn’t it? There was a plunge, and you stepped in to buy the stock at a lower price and cover your previous short sales. It was a little clumsy, but a good trick, and you got away with it-as far as everyone was concerned but me.”
Wyatt’s cigarette, forgotten in his still hand, had grown a tall ash. He said, “You’d have a hard time proving that story.”
“I can prove enough of it to raise serious questions. I can produce at least four witnesses who’ll testify they heard the rumor first from you. I can see to it that the factoring banks produce their records of the money you borrowed on big margins to pyramid Petrol stock, and I can prove you were selling Petrol short at the same time you were spreading the phony rumor about the nationalization of the Chilean oil field. The lawyers call that manipulation and fraud-they take a dim view of it.”
“You ought to know,” Wyatt growled.
“It’d be pathetically easy to nail you,” Villiers said. “All I’d have to do is blow the whistle. In fact, I don’t even need to do that. All I need to do is see to it that the information falls into Howard Claiborne’s hands. It’ll get you fired on the spot-and unless your portfolios are in perfect shape, which I very much doubt, you can’t afford to have the slightest whisper right now. If Claiborne fires you, he’ll audit your books-and if he finds what I suspect he’ll find, he’ll have to prosecute you.”
Abruptly Wyatt grinned. “You’re slick, you know that?”
“I’m glad you’re impressed.”
“It still doesn’t mean I’ve got anything you want.”
“I didn’t ask if you’re selling,” Villiers said. “What I’m telling you is, I’m buying.”
“Buying what? You know I’m broke.”
“Buying you.”
Wyatt nodded. “Of course. What do you want me to do-and what do I get out of it?”
The youth’s brashness both irritated and pleased Villiers. He said, “I’ll want you to take care of a few chores inside Howard Claiborne’s organization.”
“Such as?”
“I’ll want every piece of confidential information Claiborne has on Heggins Aircraft and certain other stocks. Later on, I’ll want you to plant pieces of information in Claiborne’s files, and spread a few rumors.”
“To affect the market price of some stock?” Wyatt pursed his lips. “You’re after big game, aren’t you? Suppose I say I’m willing-if there’s something in it for me.”
“There will be.”
“Such as?”
“Don’t push your luck,” Villiers murmured. “You’re outside jail right now on my sufferance.”
“I see that. Only I’d be a happier workman if I was sure I’d get adequate pay for the job.”
“We’ll see.”
Wyatt studied him with narrowing eyes and said slowly, “I can compile a dossier on you too, you know.”
It made Villiers smile. “Go ahead and try.”
“You think I can’t?”
“When you get a little older, you’ll learn how to cover your tracks.”
“You must have left a few tracks when you were young, before you had experience.”
“I had experience from the day I was born,” Villiers murmured. “The difference between you and me is, you were born broke, but I was born poor. There’s a hell of a difference, even though you’ll probably never be able to distinguish it. Hell, I was peddling the streets of Chicago when I was eight years old. I state this as advice, not threat-don’t bother trying to dig into my past. You’d be wasting your time.”
“Maybe,” Wyatt said, making his face judicious and noncommittal. “In the meantime, you want everything I can get on Heggins Aircraft, is that it? I’ll have to figure out a way to get at it-it’s not in my department. Any suggestions?”
“You’ll think of something.”
“What if I don’t? What if I can’t bring it off?”
“I don’t think I have to spell it out, do I? Let’s not get tedious.”
Steve Wyatt swallowed. “All right. I’ve never tried spying before-maybe it’ll be amusing.”
“I’m sure it will,” Villiers muttered. “Now, this next is between you and me, and if it goes any further, I’ll have your head in a basket, understand that. Heggins Aircraft isn’t your main objective. What you’re really going to look for is confidential information on Northeast Consolidated Industries. Everything there is-You’ll have to get into Claiborne’s private confidential files. I particularly need to have anything you can get on Elliot Judd.”
“Jesus. You want a lot.”
“With parsley,” Villiers agreed.
“Do you mean personal items on Judd?”
“Anything. His private holdings, his politics, the state of his health.”
“You think he’s not well?”
“Did I say that?”
“It rings a bell,” Wyatt said. “He’s been hidden away on that Arizona ranch for almost a year. He’s about as accessible as Howard Hughes. I may not come up with much.”
“Howard Claiborne’s his broker. He probably knows more about Elliot Judd than Judd’s doctor knows. It will be in Claiborne’s files.”
“Those files are locked up, damn it.”
“Do you think I’d have gone to all this trouble to nail you down if Claiborne’s files were out in the open like merchandise on a dimestore counter?”
“All right-all right. You’ve made your point.”
“I’m glad you think so,” Villiers muttered. Without stirring in his chair, he closed his eyes and said, “You can go.”
“How do I get in touch with you?”
“Through Hackman.”
“How much does he know about this?”
“Best for you to assume he knows absolutely nothing about it. You’ll make appointments with me through Hackman. Other than that, you’ll tell him nothing. You may get instructions from me through him from time to time. If so, don’t argue with him, because he’ll only be delivering messages.”
“I understand,” Wyatt said, and got up. Glancing up at him, Villiers saw he had already gained his resilient composure. Wyatt grinned impudently. “So long.” And left the office.
Villiers picked up the file of investigators’ reports and folded it shut.
6. Steve Wyatt
Wyatt emerged from the office with a pulse pounding in his throat, walked forward through the corridor, and saw George Hackman in the front reception room. Hackman stood close behind the receptionist’s chair, leaning forward to read something on her desk, his left forearm balanced casually across her shoulder, fingers trailing one firm high breast. When Wyatt came in sight, Hackman removed his hand quickly, and the girl gave him a saucy upward look-one lifted eyebrow and a smirking upturn of one lip corner.
Wyatt strode toward the door, but Hackman came around the desk to intercept him. Hackman beamed and put a thick arm across his shoulders to walk him to the door, talking expansively. “Glad you’ve joined our team, kid.”
“Sure. Welcome aboard, Ishmael.” Wyatt smiled synthetically.
At the door Hackman turned him with hand pressure. “Hold up a minute.”
“I’ve got to get back to the office before closing time.”
“This’ll just take a sec. Stay put.” Hackman went back to the desk and rummaged through a drawer until he found a Xeroxed sheet of paper. He brought it back to the door. “Here. Long as you’re joining up, be a good idea for us to get to know each other. My wife and I are throwing a little party tonight, nine o’clock. I ran off this little map to show folks how to get to our place from Thornwood. You know Thornwood?”