Fortune Is a Woman - Elizabeth Adler [148]
Outside on the street it was cold and the damp, clinging mist quickly swirled away his dreams of sunny southern islands. He quickened his pace, hurrying to keep warm. He knew the way to the tram station like the back of his hand and the fog did not trouble him though it muffled his footsteps eerily and he suddenly fancied he heard them echoing behind him. Remembering the face at the window he looked apprehensively over his shoulder, but the street was quiet and there was only the wall of gray mist. Unnerved, he broke into a run, breathing a sigh of relief as the brightly lit tram clattered into view, and he swung himself safely on board, heading for home.
CHAPTER 31
The faces around the boardroom table of Harrison Enterprises Incorporated were serious as Harry took his seat. He glanced scornfully at them and their waiting accounts and financial reports, drumming his fingers restlessly on the highly polished mahogany and ordering his secretary to fetch him some coffee immediately.
“Well, gentlemen,” he said, giving them the temporary benefit of his full attention. “Let’s get this over with.”
“There’s a great deal to discuss, Mr. Harrison,” the chief accountant said reprovingly. “We must take the opportunity, while we have you in San Francisco, to go through the accounts of each of the companies and decide what must be done. As you know, sir, some of them, including the Herald, are doing badly.”
“How badly?” Harry demanded, leaning back in his big leather swivel-chair and sipping his coffee.
“The Herald has been losing steadily since its inception, Mr. Harrison. Its losses currently amount to thirty million dollars.”
Harry glanced at him, startled. “Thirty million? How can that be?”
“You were away for five years, sir. And you left orders that it should continue with full staff and top production no matter what happened. Also,” he reminded him, “on your instructions, all your shares in the Union Pacific Railroad were sold and the money applied to your divorce settlement from the baroness.”
Harry sighed. “Goddamn gold-digging bitch,” he said succinctly.
Pouring more coffee he listened with half an ear to the saga of disasters afflicting the Harrison enterprises: the new oil fields into which he had poured gallons of money had remained obstinately dry; the steelworks production had been decimated by strikes; the sugar plantations in Hawaii were burned by laborers sick of living on the pittance Harrisons paid and angry that their demands for better pay went unheard. The list went on and on until he raised an angry hand and demanded to know why nothing had been done to put a stop to the oil drilling and the strikes and the rest.
“We did keep you informed of these matters, sir,” the chief accountant chided, “but you were away for so long, and after Mr. Frank and Mr. Wallis went, well sir, there was just no proper management. If you’ll forgive my saying so, Mr. Harrison, a company with so many diverse areas of operation needs a firm hand at the helm. Otherwise …” He shrugged graphically, holding out the sheaf of reports with their long columns of red ink.
Harry was silent. He glanced away from the papers showing his companies’ losses and said, “What about the bank?”
“I’m glad to be able to tell you the bank is sound, sir,” the accountant said with a rare smile. “The public have retained their belief in the stability of Harrison Mercantile.”
Harry nodded, relieved. “Okay,” he said, folding his arms, “so what’s the current state of play?”
“Overall, sir,” the accountant said, peering at him over the top of his gold-wired half-glasses, “Harrison Enterprises are down one hundred and eighty million in four years. That leaves a net worth of one hundred and twenty million.”
“Well, goddamit, man, that’s not so bad, is it? I thought you meant the Harrisons were going under!” Harry breathed a sigh of relief as he stood up to go.
“As I told you, Mr. Harrison,” the accountant said agitatedly, “several of the companies are in deep trouble. Even though the overall