cholera, you have a one hundred percent mortality rate.”
three
Jonathan Lawrence sat back in his chair dejectedly. Why now? Why, just as he was on the verge at age thirty-four of achieving the two things he wanted most in his life, money and power, did things have to get so screwed up?
Ever since legalized gambling had been introduced in Las Vegas, there was speculation it would some day also be approved in New York State. As early as January of ’58, rumors were rampant that the proposition would be passed by the legislature and put to the voters in the form of a referendum in the next election.
From Jonathan’s point of view, if the referendum were approved it would be the best thing that could ever happen to the Catskills. It would perform miracles for the economy, creating the much needed excitement they required to compete with resort areas all over the world. It was important to him that the Congress be the first to get into the action; the first resort to open a casino, the first to cater to an international crowd, and the first to invest in building convention centers that would attract large groups of businessmen and organizations with money to spend.
Jonathan was not the only one interested in gambling coming to the mountains. Five years ago, unbeknownst to Ellen, when money was especially tight, he had met with some syndicate people at Phil’s behest and negotiated a loan at outrageous interest for $250,000. The interest had been repaid, but not the principal itself.
Not uncoincidentally, the week Phil died the man he had dealt with contacted him by phone. He wanted to know if Jonathan thought that under the circumstances Ellen might be interested in selling or, at the very least, see her way clear to having a silent 51 percent partner, a partner who would erase the loan and make extra money available for whatever expansion was necessary to make the Congress the showcase of the Catskills. It was also made clear that if the answer was no, the loan would have to be repaid immediately, even if it mean bankruptcy for the Congress.
These people wanted to get in—fast—before other organizations did. And they held a carrot out to Jonathan. If he could make the arrangements, he would be given a substantial raise and the position of president of the new corporation.
At the time, with Ellen so deep in grief, he didn’t think there would be a problem but now, with her getting more active in the day to day affairs of management, he had a sinking feeling it wasn’t going to be quite that easy. On the other hand, he knew she was concerned about having to bring Sandi up at the hotel by herself and once she started to discover how complicated the job actually was, she’d probably welcome anyone who could relieve some of the pressures.
A few days ago, his contact informed him they were sending a representative, a Nick Martin, up for the Fourth to look the place over, check out its operation and come back with a decision. If the place looked good and Jonathan made the arrangements with Ellen, they were ready to make a deal immediately. If not …
And now this. Jonathan began to sweat. To think a potential multi-million dollar operation, which he was going to head, could be in danger because some Chink died of probably nothing more serious than food poisoning.
He slammed his fist on his desk. Cholera, his ass. If Nick Martin got wind of what was happening, that there was the possibility of an epidemic and what it would do to the hotel’s reputation, they’d pull out as fast as a guy hearing his girl had V.D.
The medical investigation had to be contained. He was sorry he had given his approval in the first place but it was too late now to turn back. He was playing a dangerous game with dangerous men on both sides. The most important thing now was to know exactly what was happening every step of the way so he would know precisely what measures he’d have to take, if and when he needed to.
Bob Halloran, a tall