Deadly Game - R. B. Conroy

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shook his head, “You’re amazing.”

      Nicky gave him one of her cute little grins. “Things aren’t that complicated, dear. Uncle Sam gave you twenty-five billion dollars and the board wants you to keep it. You want to give it back and they don’t like it one little bit.”

      Alex slowed almost to a stop; his headlights reflected off the empty guard station at the entrance to their neighborhood. He accelerated through the tight opening and turned right.

      “Want to go with me tomorrow? You could probably solve this problem in oh….ten minutes or less.”

      “No way! All those rich old men would scare me to death.”

      “Right now, they kind of scare me too,” Alex smiled.

      The turn signal flashed as he turned into their driveway. Alex slowed as they passed under the still rising garage door and came to a stop. He looked in his mirror, headlights flashed by. He watched a dark sedan drifted slowly past their house. Alex pressed the opener and the big door slowly rattled shut.

      Nicky’s hand fell tenderly on her husband’s arm. “Alex, let’s go north. Let’s move full time to the lake. You don’t need this job. With your background, you could get a good position in South Bend or Fort Wayne. You could work a few more years and then retire and enjoy the lake and those grandkids.”

      Alex grimaced, “I thought you liked it here. We’ve finally arrived. We live in a two million dollar house and you drive an Escalade, for cryin’ out loud!”

      “I know, it’s fine here but we both love the lake, and we’ve been here twenty years. That’s long enough.”

      Alex looked away toward his cluttered work bench at the back of the garage, “I….uh don’t know. Most of my retirement is in the form of stock options. Right now, our stock is under three dollars a share. My retirement is in the tank right now. And I just can’t see myself running away from this fight. It’s just not the way I do things.”

      Nicky’s hand slid off his arm. “I’m not sure your bank’s stock is going to get much better for awhile. But it really doesn’t matter. We have plenty of equity in this house. Even if we sell below market, we have other holdings. We could get by. Just think about it, dear, that’s all I ask.”

      “I will honey, I promise.” He leaned over and gave her a quick peck on the cheek.

      “Hope you enjoyed that, it’s about all you’ll be getting for awhile,” she joked as she slid out the passenger side.

      Alex playfully sang ‘I can’t get no satisfaction,’ as he climbed out of his seat and hurried around the front of the car.

      “You’re hopeless,” she laughed as they came together by the back door and fell into each other’s arms, hugging and laughing.

      Alex sang on, “I try and I try and I try. I just can’t get no…”

      A giggling Nicky interrupted, “Okay! Okay! How about a quick shower and then we’ll take it from there?”

      Alex pulled her very close and spoke softly, “How about a shower together?”

      “We tried that when we first got married and never made it out of the bathroom.”

      “I know.”

      The two playful lovers quickly entered the house and hurried upstairs for their late night rendezvous.

      Chapter 3

      “Pardon me Mr. Crane; Mr. Winslow is here to see you.”

      “Okay Erica, send him in. And could you bring us both a cup of coffee? Strom likes his black.”

      “I’ll be right back with the coffee sir.”

      Born and raised on a dairy farm in North Central Indiana, Alex Crane’s father was a stern, but loving, taskmaster. He had taught Alex the value of hard work at a very young age. His mother was out-going and friendly and taught Alex the value of relationships and getting along with others. Strong and fleet of foot, Alex was also one of the best athletes to ever come out of North Central Indiana. He earned all-state honors in both basketball and football at Oak Hill High School. After graduating from high school, he went on to be a star athlete at Butler University in Indianapolis, majoring in finance and graduating with honors. After a stint in the Navy, he found a job as a loan officer at a tiny bank in Sweetser, Indiana. Using his father’s work ethic and his mother’s charm, he moved from Sweetser to a larger bank in Marion, Indiana and then eventually climbed the ladder to become the President of Midwest Consoli-dated Bank, one of the largest banking conglomerates in the country. Smart and aggressive, the former star athlete developed into a tough and determined in-fighter in the rough and tumble world of twenty-first century banking.

      There was a quick knock, the office door swung open. “Come in Strom, have a seat.” Alex waved at the empty leather chairs fronting his large oak desk.

      “Thanks Alex. Got any coffee ‘round this place?”

      “Erica will be right in.” Alex nervously shuffled some papers on his desk as the large man lumbered over and collapsed into the chair like a big bag of potatoes.

      “Damn, if I gain any more weight you’re gonna have to put some bigger chairs in here.”

      Alex chuckled, “You could always stand up.”

      Strom managed a guttural laugh.

      The always efficient Erica hurried in and set a cup of coffee in front of Strom and on Alex’s coaster, which featured a still somewhat discernible picture of Tony Hinkle, the legendary Butler basketball coach.

      “What did you think of the meeting?” Alex asked.

      “There was plenty of blood spilled in there today—I’ve never seen Barnes so determined. I thought you were very forceful and persuasive in your arguments, but I still think it‘s a toss-up.”

      “Do you think it would do any good for you to talk to any of the board members again privately, maybe Cliff and Lisa? With you and me and those two, we could swing this thing our way.”

      Strom’s brows narrowed, he leaned forward and looked directly at Alex. “I feel confident about Cliff and I’m hoping Lisa is in our camp also. She’s a little harder to read, but I’m optimistic. The others are all hopeless; they’re caving into the pressure from Barnes and our stockholders.” Strom shook his head.

      Alex fidgeted with his watch, something he always did when he was anxious. He stood and began pacing back and forth behind his desk.

      “They’re not caving because of pressure from Barnes. Those selfish old fools are just looking out for themselves. They know that keeping the money could be bad for us in the long run, but they also know it might help prop up our stock in the short run. Then they can sell out to the first merger offer that comes along, take their millions and play golf every day at Crooked Stick.”

      “I think you’re right, Alex, I just didn’t want to say it. But they’re not bad men—remember they’re all in their late sixties or seventies and they’re seeing their invest-ments erode away because of this subprime fiasco. They want to try and salvage what they can and go on with their lives. What the hell Alex, they don’t have ten or twenty years to wait for things to turn around.”

      Alex dropped into his chair, rubbed his face with both hands and glanced over at his faithful cohort. “You’re right, Strom. I could fight this until I’m blue in the face but its not going to make a bit of difference. In the end, just like in almost every other business dealing I’ve had in my thirty years in banking, it all boils down to money. They’re worried about their money.”

      “I agree, except for Barnes and I think it’s political with him. He wants that Ambassadorship to Ireland in the worst way. He needs this bank to look as good as possible for the midterm elections and the Presidential, which is just a little more than two years

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