To Save a Son by Brian Freemantle Read Free Book Online

assessors and architects for Franks to discover that during the fine-print conferences both island authorities had insisted that the development provide all the accompanying services, which on four sites meant the provision of full road systems.
    Franks flew to the Bahamas and argued the survey figure of an additional nine million down to three million—with the island government contributing the remainder—which he considered quite acceptable. And then, when he contacted the vendors from whom he intended purchasing the land, he was quoted $225 an acre higher than the original figure upon which he had based all his assessments. For the Bahamas alone it increased development costs by twelve million dollars, which more than nullified his success in forcing down the services provision figure.
    From the Bahamas he traveled on to Bermuda, where he argued the service provision demand for six million dollars down to 1.5 million. And then found the land price had increased by an average of three hundred dollars an acre, adding nine million to his costing. Franks got the first hint of what he suspected from the Bermuda minister of tourism and took a chance, approaching the minister’s principal secretary, conveying the impression he knew more than he did. The secretary didn’t name Nicky Scargo as the man acting for other interested developers. He spoke only of “a New York legal firm.” Franks actually got the name from one of the property owners and then by suggesting it himself, as if he already knew. Although he didn’t need any further confirmation, Franks returned to the Bahamas. It took him three days to get Scargo’s name there. On the fourth he called New York, controlling his anger, not disclosing where he was but suggesting a meeting the following day.
    â€œWhere?” asked the lawyer.
    â€œYour office, in the afternoon,” said Franks.
    â€œShall I call the others?”
    â€œNo,” ordered Franks. “Wait.”
    Franks was shown into the lawyer’s office by the inviting Maria. Nicky rose for the accustomed hand-pumping, shoulder-slapping greeting, and Franks waited until the woman closed the door before stopping the man halfway around his desk.
    â€œCut the crap,” said Franks. “Let’s not bother with the friendliness bullshit.”
    Nicky halted in midstride, hands spread before him in a gesture of confusion. “Eddie! What is it?”
    â€œYou know damned well what it is,” said Franks. “You set out to screw me. Bastard!”
    â€œI didn’t set out to screw anyone.”
    â€œYou negotiated on their behalf behind my back, trying to cheat me out of my own project.”
    â€œSit down, Eddie,” pleaded Nicky. “Please sit down and let’s talk about it.”
    â€œI don’t want to sit down to talk about anything with you,” said Franks, shouting and unconcerned that he was doing so. “I’m going to go to another law firm and I’m going to explain what has happened and get you reported for breach of trust to whatever body governs ethics here in New York. You won’t fuck me, Nicky!”
    â€œSit down,” repeated the lawyer. “Please sit down.”
    Franks did so, with reluctance. It was going to create a severe breach in the family; maybe one impossible to repair. He decided it didn’t matter.
    Nicky retreated behind his desk, sitting and remaining head bent toward it, assembling his thoughts. Then he looked up and said, “Dukes and Pascara and Flamini were my clients before you were: proper business clients, not anything personal, like there is between us. I was acting for them when I brought you together. If I’d intended to cheat you, I wouldn’t have told you on the telephone how they wanted to go on without you. I was trying to keep the project going, involving everyone, by going down as I did to the Bahamas and Bermuda. They’re businessmen, you know