Omerta - Mario Puzo [119]
At first, when Nicole had offered to run the banks, Astorre had hesitated, remembering the Don’s final wishes. But Mr. Pryor convinced him that Nicole was her father’s daughter. Whenever a big loan was due, the bank could count on her to deploy a potent combination of sweet talk and veiled intimidation. She knew how to get results.
Nicole’s intercom buzzed, and Mr. Pryor greeted her in his courtly manner: “What can I do for you, my dear?”
“We’re getting killed on these exchange rates,” she said. “What do you think of moving more heavily into deutsche marks?”
“I think that’s an excellent idea,” Mr. Pryor said.
“You know,” Nicole said, “all of this currency trading is about as logical as going to Vegas and playing baccarat all day.”
Mr. Pryor laughed. “That may be true, but baccarat losses aren’t guaranteed by the Federal Reserve.”
When Nicole hung up, she sat for a moment and reflected on the bank’s progress. Since taking over, she had acquired six more banks in booming countries and doubled corporate profits. But she was even more pleased that the bank was providing larger loans to new businesses in developing parts of the world.
She smiled to herself as she remembered her first day.
As soon as her new stationery had arrived, Nicole had drafted a letter to Peru’s finance minister demanding repayment of all of the government’s overdue loans. As she expected, this produced an economic crisis in the country, resulting in political turmoil and a change of government. The new party demanded the resignation of Peru’s consul general to the United Nations, Marriano Rubio.
In the months that followed, Nicole was delighted to read that Rubio had declared personal bankruptcy. He was also involved in fighting a series of complicated lawsuits with Peruvian investors who had bankrolled one of his many ventures—a failed theme park. Rubio had vowed it would become “the Latino Disneyland,” but all he had been able to attract was a Ferris wheel and a Taco Bell.
. . .
The case, which the tabloids dubbed the Macaroni Massacre, had become an international incident. As soon as Aspinella Washington recovered from the wound inflicted by Cilke’s gunshot—a punctured lung—she had made a series of pronouncements to the media. While awaiting her trial, she portrayed herself as a martyr on the scale of Joan of Arc. She sued the FBI for attempted murder, slander, and violation of her civil rights. She also sued the New York Police Department for back pay she was owed while under suspension.
Despite her protestations, it had taken the jury only three hours of deliberation to convict her. When the guilty verdict was announced, Aspinella fired her attorneys and petitioned the Campaign Against the Death Penalty for representation. Demonstrating further flair for publicity, she demanded that Nicole Aprile take her case. From her cell on death row, Aspinella told the press, “Her cousin got me into this, so now she can get me out.”
At first Nicole refused to meet with Aspinella, saying that any good lawyer would recuse herself from such an obvious conflict of interest. But then Aspinella accused Nicole of racism, and Nicole—not wanting bad blood with minority lenders—agreed to see her.
The day of their meeting, Nicole had to wait twenty minutes while Aspinella greeted a small congress of foreign dignitaries. They hailed Aspinella as a brave warrior against America’s barbaric penal code. Finally Aspinella gave Nicole the signal to approach the glass window. She had taken to wearing a yellow eye patch stitched with the word FREEDOM.
Nicole launched into all of her reasons for wanting to turn down the case and concluded by pointing out that she had represented Astorre