polish, but he had a craggy presence, sitting motionless with clumpy hands gripping thick knees.
William Holloway found the two men disturbing. It was their closed faces, the deadness of their stares. He supposed they were men with friends, families, loves. But those empty eyes gave nothing back.
Empt started by saying that the three of them were prepared to contribute $750,000 to a new corporation. He hoped their visitors were still willing to advance a quarter-of-a-million-dollar loan to the project. At ten percent interest.
Santangelo said the loan was available immediately. And should overruns or unexpected expenses require it, 250 additional jacks would be available at the same interest rate. "Jacks" was the word he used.
At that point, Santangelo withdrew two folded letters from an inside pocket and handed them to Empt. Luther read the pages and passed them on to Bending and Holloway.
They were "To Whom It May Concern" letters of recommendation from the presidents of commercial banks in New York and Miami. They stated that the bearer, Mr. Rocco Santangelo, and associates, were personally known to the signatories as trustworthy men of financial probity.
Both letters also stated that the undersigned would welcome personal inquiries into the credit rating of the aforesaid Mr. Rocco Santangelo, and associates.
William Holloway read these paeans with some bemuse-ment. He recognized the name of the New York banker, although he didn't know him personally.
But he had played golf occasionally with the Miami man at state banking conventions. He remembered him as a frosty, somewhat remote character. Not at all the type he would have suspected of dealing with Rocco Santangelo.
Empt said that the bankers' letters were welcome, and he hoped that as soon as the corporation's charter was granted, Mr. Santangelo would be willing to sign a sales contract.
Mr. Santangelo then looked inquiringly at his associate.
Jimmy Stone said, "No," in a voice so low it could hardly be heard.
Whereupon Santangelo turned back to the three partners and explained that, because of the nature of the business, a signed contract would not be necessary.
"If we stiff you," he said earnestly, "what are you going to do—call in the law and tell the judge we haven't paid you for this wet pussy shit? He'll kick your ass out of court."
They saw the logic of that.
Santangelo said there would be no signed contracts, letters of intent, or business correspondence. All orders, agreements, complaints, and inquiries would be made verbally.
In addition, Santangelo said, the initial quarter-of-a-mil-lion-dollar loan, and all subsequent payments for merchandise, would be made in cash.
"It's simpler that way," he explained.
He must have seen something in their expressions, because he went on to say that what they chose to reveal of their income to the IRS was their decision to make. But, he said, there were to be no invoices, bills of lading, statements, or any other written documents indicating the nature or scope of the business.
"You see," he said in his rich, assured voice, "our relationship must be based on mutual trust. You treat us right; we treat you right. One hand scratches the other. We're willing to show our good faith by handing over a quarter-mil, bingo, like that. This could be a very nice little deal for you, so it's silly to argue about signed contracts and all that bullshit."
Luther Empt said well, perhaps a signed contract would not be absolutely necessary, but he would feel a lot better if the loan was made available before the new factory was contracted for and equipment ordered.
Santangelo said of course, the money could be handed over at once. Tomorrow, if Empt desired.
"And we won't even ask for a receipt," he said, showing his teeth.
Luther said that sounded good to him, and everyone had another drink.
Then Luther said that as soon as the corporation charter came through, and an office was established, they would get rolling on
William Holloway found the two men disturbing. It was their closed faces, the deadness of their stares. He supposed they were men with friends, families, loves. But those empty eyes gave nothing back.
Empt started by saying that the three of them were prepared to contribute $750,000 to a new corporation. He hoped their visitors were still willing to advance a quarter-of-a-million-dollar loan to the project. At ten percent interest.
Santangelo said the loan was available immediately. And should overruns or unexpected expenses require it, 250 additional jacks would be available at the same interest rate. "Jacks" was the word he used.
At that point, Santangelo withdrew two folded letters from an inside pocket and handed them to Empt. Luther read the pages and passed them on to Bending and Holloway.
They were "To Whom It May Concern" letters of recommendation from the presidents of commercial banks in New York and Miami. They stated that the bearer, Mr. Rocco Santangelo, and associates, were personally known to the signatories as trustworthy men of financial probity.
Both letters also stated that the undersigned would welcome personal inquiries into the credit rating of the aforesaid Mr. Rocco Santangelo, and associates.
William Holloway read these paeans with some bemuse-ment. He recognized the name of the New York banker, although he didn't know him personally.
But he had played golf occasionally with the Miami man at state banking conventions. He remembered him as a frosty, somewhat remote character. Not at all the type he would have suspected of dealing with Rocco Santangelo.
Empt said that the bankers' letters were welcome, and he hoped that as soon as the corporation's charter was granted, Mr. Santangelo would be willing to sign a sales contract.
Mr. Santangelo then looked inquiringly at his associate.
Jimmy Stone said, "No," in a voice so low it could hardly be heard.
Whereupon Santangelo turned back to the three partners and explained that, because of the nature of the business, a signed contract would not be necessary.
"If we stiff you," he said earnestly, "what are you going to do—call in the law and tell the judge we haven't paid you for this wet pussy shit? He'll kick your ass out of court."
They saw the logic of that.
Santangelo said there would be no signed contracts, letters of intent, or business correspondence. All orders, agreements, complaints, and inquiries would be made verbally.
In addition, Santangelo said, the initial quarter-of-a-mil-lion-dollar loan, and all subsequent payments for merchandise, would be made in cash.
"It's simpler that way," he explained.
He must have seen something in their expressions, because he went on to say that what they chose to reveal of their income to the IRS was their decision to make. But, he said, there were to be no invoices, bills of lading, statements, or any other written documents indicating the nature or scope of the business.
"You see," he said in his rich, assured voice, "our relationship must be based on mutual trust. You treat us right; we treat you right. One hand scratches the other. We're willing to show our good faith by handing over a quarter-mil, bingo, like that. This could be a very nice little deal for you, so it's silly to argue about signed contracts and all that bullshit."
Luther Empt said well, perhaps a signed contract would not be absolutely necessary, but he would feel a lot better if the loan was made available before the new factory was contracted for and equipment ordered.
Santangelo said of course, the money could be handed over at once. Tomorrow, if Empt desired.
"And we won't even ask for a receipt," he said, showing his teeth.
Luther said that sounded good to him, and everyone had another drink.
Then Luther said that as soon as the corporation charter came through, and an office was established, they would get rolling on
Similar Books
