The Betsy (1971) by Harold Robbins Read Free Book Online

could help us. But we have to weigh its cost against its benefits.” He looked at me. “What do you estimate?”
    “The least we should field is three cars,” I said. “Formula Three. We couldn’t make it in One or Two. We haven’t a standard car that could meet the competition, so we would have to go to prototype. I figure with personnel and design and engineering, about a hundred thousand a car. That would be for the first three, after that they would cost progressively less.”
    Weyman nodded. “Right now we’re selling a little over two hundred thousand cars annually and we’re losing about a hundred and forty dollars per unit. You would be adding about a dollar and a half per unit to that loss.” He looked at Bancroft. “That means you would have to sell at least thirty thousand more cars just to keep the unit loss at present levels. Do you think you could do it?”
    Bancroft was so hungry for the sales you could almost feel him taste it. “I think we have a chance.” Then he added the qualifying Detroit constant, “Providing the economy doesn’t go to hell.”
    I looked at Weyman. “How many units do you have to sell to break even?”
    “Three hundred thousand,” he said quickly. “That’s a fifty percent increase over our present rate. Once past that, we break into the profit column.”
    “That should be easy,” I said, slipping him the needle. “Volkswagen sells more than that.”
    “Volks doesn’t field a full line,” he said. “We have to cover the whole American market to meet the competition.”
    I didn’t answer. We all knew that was a crock of shit. The only reason for a full line was to protect their own parts division.
    Loren had been silent while we were talking. Now he spoke. From his tone I knew his mind had been made up. “I think we’ll take a shot at it. I have a lot of respect for my grandfather. Besides it won’t make a big difference whether we lose a dollar more per unit or not at this stage of the game. And, who knows, with Ford and GM out of it, we might even pick up a few trophies.”
    He got to his feet. “Dan, you take care of the details. Get Angelo set up in an office and see to it that he gets whatever assistance he needs.” He looked at me. “Angelo, you report to Dan on costs, and to me on everything else.”
    “Thank you, Loren,” I said, and the meeting was over.
     
     
    We walked down the corridor. “How’s Number One?” Bancroft asked.
    “Just fine,” I answered.
    “There’s been a lot of talk around that he’s slipping. Old-age things, you know.”
    “If he is, then we’re all in trouble,” I said. “He’s as sharp as he ever was.”
    “I’m glad to hear that,” Bancroft said. I could tell that he meant it. “He was a real automobile man.”
    “He still is.”
    “My office is right here,” Dan said. “Come on in and we’ll get the details over with.”
    I arranged to have lunch with Bancroft early in the following week and went into Dan’s office. It was simple, efficient and modern, as befit the financial vice-president.
    Dan walked around his desk and sat down. I seated myself opposite. “If my memory serves me right, you worked for us before,” he said.
    I nodded. He knew damn well that I did.
    He picked up his phone and asked for my personnel file. He ran a tight ship. The file was on his desk within two minutes, even though the date of my last employment there was over eleven years ago. He opened it and looked at it. There was surprise in his voice. “Do you know that you still have a balance in our paid-up pension fund?”
    I didn’t know it but I nodded anyway. “I didn’t exactly need the money,” I said. “And it was as safe a place as any to leave it.”
    “Have you discussed your compensation?” he asked.
    “We never got around to it.”
    “I’ll take it up with Loren,” he said. “Do you have any suggestions?”
    “None at all. Whatever he says is okay with me.”
    “Have you discussed a