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British chapter of the operation.
The British subsidiary would be guaranteed to attract a massive response to
the quite moderate program of advertising Harry had outlined. The response
mainly in the form of anonymous donations was guaranteed because the so-called
donations would be almost completely made up of the Philimans' own hot money
mailed to themselves after conversion into money orders and travelers' checks
bought with cash all over the country. The packages would be opened and the
contents registered by certified accountants, thus providing unimpeachable
proof of where every penny of the chapter's assets had originated.
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"Twenty percent stays here for salaries and expenses, which is the maximum
allowed under British law," he said when he summed up the main points. He was
speaking easily and confidently as he sat in an armchair of padded purple and
chrome that looked as if it belonged in some eccentric millionaire's sculpture
collection. The rings on his fingers glittered in the sunshine streaming
through the window as he made an empty gesture in the air. "The remaining
eighty is tax exempt and goes to the States as your gross contribution to the
fund. Obviously you're all charitable-minded people, and there's no reason why
you shouldn't add in a personal donation of your own or some deductible
contributions from your companies' profits. Four times a year they pay you
back a commission that they list as foreign expenses, which brings your
effective total revenue back up to fifty percent; you pay tax on only three-
fifths that is to say, the thirty that's fed back. The remaining fifty covers
the actual input to the fund, the parent company's commission, and U.S.
domestic expenses. I guess that's about it." He sat back in his chair,
steepled his fingers below his chin, and studied the four faces before him.
* * *
Nigel, looking relaxed in the chair opposite, took a measured sip from the
glass of sherry in his hand and savored the taste with an approving nod before
replying. "You're still talking about a full half of it," he said. His voice
was calm, registering curiosity rather than surprise or indignation. "Allowing
for the portion that's taxable over here, we'd end up with the minor share.
That does seem rather overambitious, wouldn't you agree?"
Harry knew Nigel knew better than that. He spread his arms expressively. "Most
of their half has to go through to the fund. It's a respectable fund
management operation, and it's got its payments to make. The rest helps them
make a living, something we all have to do."
"What percentage goes into the fund net at the end of it all?" Barbara asked
from where she was sitting on the sofa to one side, next to Clive.
"What I've described is the deal," Harry replied evenly, avoiding a direct
answer. "They're not asking where the donations would be coming from at this
end."
"It's still a big chunk whichever way you look at it," Clive said. He rubbed
his nose dubiously, then looked across at his brother. "The money's clean on
their side from the moment it enters the country," he pointed out. "We run all
the risks over here. That's a difference that should be reflected in the
split. I'm for this scheme in principle, but not for settling as it stands."
"Your money is also hot, and that's another side to the same difference,"
Harry countered smoothly. "It's unspendable, and therefore might as well not
be there. Half a loaf is better than no loaf. Your risk is balanced out by
their doing you a favor that you need, which squares things back at fifty-
fifty."
A short silence fell. Delia walked back from the window where she had been
listening and stopped behind Nigel's chair. "I presume, Mr. Stone, that this
matter would be subject to a written contract confirming all these figures and
terms," she said, speaking in a precise English society accent that was marred
only by a slight tendency toward being shrill.
Harry's brow furrowed into a pained look. "Of course," he told her.
"Everything would be legal and aboveboard. They wouldn't do it any other way.
They've got a valuable reputation to protect."
Nigel sniffed pointedly, but made no comment. Harry smiled to himself and
marveled at the mental gymnastics that enabled somebody in Nigel's position to
be capable of a gesture implying moral disapproval. Although the bargaining
had been tough in places, his instinct made him confident the deal would go
through. The Philimans had politely but firmly argued him down from his
opening proposal of seventy-five/twenty-five, which he hadn't expected them to
accept for a moment, and declined his original suggestion of a one-year-
deferred commission, which would have given the U.S. side of the organization
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the exclusive benefit of a substantial sum accrued as interest. But the
negotiations had all been very gentlemanly and a refreshing change from the
kind Harry was used to. Furthermore, everybody would be able to have dinner in
a civilized manner afterward with all business matters forgotten.
Harry admired and envied the ability of these people to keep different parts
of their lives in the proper compartments, and the tradition that enabled them
to smile apologetically while they twisted the knife in deeper for the last
ounce of flesh. This was the way of life he meant to become part of before
much longer, and he recognized in the present situation not only the prospect
of some lucrative business but also an opportunity for some social investment
that could pay handsome dividends later. Anybody who was just smart could make
money, but to really fly high in the circles that mattered, you needed
something extra that people like this had. Harry Stone knew that he had it,
too, and he was going to prove it.
Nigel kept his face expressionless as he turned toward Clive with an almost
imperceptible raising of his eyebrows. Harry could feel a warm surge of
jubilation inside as he read the signals, but kept his own face just as
straight. Clive's jaw stiffened a fraction, his eyebrows dropped, and he moved
his head in a slight sideways motion.
"Sixty-forty," Nigel said, looking back at Stone.
It was what Harry had been expecting, but he frowned intently at the floor in
front of him and went through the motions of wrestling with figures in his
head. "It's scraping the bone," he said dubiously when he finally looked up.
"But since we're talking pretty big dollars, I'd be prepared to try them for
another three points. I'm sure we'd be wasting our time if I pushed for
anything past that."
"Not enough," Nigel said flatly. "Make it another two. We'll meet you at
fifty-five."
That gave Harry forty-five, which clinched the deal because his bottom limit
had been forty-three. Nevertheless, he played through some more mental agonies
and then asked guardedly, "Would we have a deal if I managed to get them to go
for that? No more strings. You'll okay a contract if they beam it through
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