Free White Cargo by Stuart Woods Page B

Ben,” Cat replied. “You’ve still got my power of attorney. Do whatever you think is best with the business.”
    “We’ve had a couple of feelers for a takeover. It would mean one hell of a lot of money for our remaining stock.”
    “Whatever you think is best, just don’t commit me to an employment contract. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to concentrate on business again.”
    “I understand,” Ben replied.
    “I’ll call you from down there whenever I get a chance.”
    “Good. I’ll let you know whether there’s anything important in the mail.”
    Cat saw his lawyer and made a new will, leaving everything to Jinx, if she was still alive, a large bequest to his alma mater, and the rest to Ben, if Jinx was found dead. He specifically excluded his son from any inheritance.
    On his way home from his lawyer’s office he stopped at a camera store and bought a solidly built aluminum camera case, with combination locks, the size and shapeof a large briefcase. At home, he cut a newspaper into a hundred small pieces, measured them, and made some calculations. He was surprised at the result. He called his stockbroker and gave him a sell order and some brief, firm instructions, then called the head office of his bank and asked to speak to the president.
    “Mr. Avery’s office,” a secretary said.
    “My name is Wendell Catledge. I’d like to speak with Mr. Avery,” Cat said.
    “What is this about, sir? Does Mr. Avery know you?”
    “I’ll discuss that with Mr. Avery. We’ve never met.”
    The secretary became officious. “I’m afraid Mr. Avery is in a meeting. If you’ll leave your number . . .”
    “I have a business account with the bank. The company name is Printtech. Please go and tell Mr. Avery that Wendell Catledge wishes to speak with him at once.”
    “I’m very sorry, but . . .”
    “Please don’t make it necessary for me to come to his office.”
    There was a short silence. “Please hold,” she said, exasperated.
    There was a longer silence, then a man’s voice. “Mr. Catledge? Cat Catledge?” The man had been reading his Fortune and Forbes. “I’m sorry you were kept waiting. How can I be of service?”
    Cat identified himself with the Printtech account number and his personal account number. He told the banker how he could be of service, explaining that the man could verify his instructions by calling him at the home number listed on his account records.
    The man was uncomfortable. “May I ask . . . you understand, Mr. Catledge, that by law this sort of transaction has to be reported to the federal government.”
    “I quite understand. I’ll be at your office at eleven tomorrow.”
    The banker was still balking. “This sort of thing takes time, you know.”
    “Mr. Avery,” Cat said, becoming exasperated himself, “you have nearly twenty-four hours. All I really want to do is cash a check. I’ll be at your office at eleven tomorrow morning.”
    “Yes, sir,” the banker said.
    •   •   •
    Promptly at eleven the following morning, Cat presented himself at the bank. Avery took him into his office, then into an adjoining conference room. Another bank officer and a uniformed security guard were standing at the end of the table.
    In the middle of the table was a stack of money.
    “Twenty thousand hundred-dollar bills,” Avery said, still sounding doubtful, “banded into bundles of five hundred, as you requested. Do you wish to count it?”
    “No,” Cat replied.
    “There are some papers to sign.”
    Cat placed his aluminum briefcase on the table and opened it. “Please put the money into this case while I sign the papers,” he said to the guard. Avery nodded and the guard began to pack the money.
    Avery shoved some papers toward him. “First, please sign a check for two million dollars,” he said.
    Cat signed the check.
    “Then, I have prepared a release of all liability on the part of the bank. We don’t usually transact business this way, as you