Read Online Time and the Riddle: Thirty-One Zen Stories by Howard Fast - Free Book Online Page B

was good to see them.
    â€œBoth of you,” he said. “Day off, Doris?”
    Doris indicated that days off were the farthest things from her mind, and Martin outlined his purpose with that superior and secure sense that the buyer in quantity always has. But instead of leaping with joy, Gibson stared at him unhappily.
    â€œPlease sit down,” Gibson said.
    They sat down.
    â€œIf I understand you, Marty, you want to buy two hundred thousand shares of American Telephone.. You’re putting me on.”
    â€œNo. We’re dead serious.”
    â€œEven if you’re serious, you’re putting me on, Marty,” Gibson said. “This kind of goofing—well, someone gets upset. Someone gets angry.”
    â€œLook, Frank,” Martin said, “you are a broker. You are a customer’s man. I am a customer. I come to buy, and you tell me politely to go take a walk.”
    â€œMarty,” Gibson said patiently, “that much American Telephone adds up to over ten million dollars. That means you have to have at least six million, give or take a few, to back it up. So what’s the use, Marty? Take the gag somewhere else.”
    â€œThen you won’t take my order?”
    â€œMarty—Marty, no one will take your order. Because you got to be some kind of nut to even talk that way when I know that you and Doris between you—you got maybe twenty cents.”
    â€œThat’s a hell of a thing to say!”
    â€œIs it true?”
    â€œFor heaven’s sake, Marty,” Doris put in, “come clean with him and get the thing on the road. Here it is, Frank. We got inside dope that Telephone is going up five points this afternoon. At two o’clock today they are going to announce a stock split—and it will go.”
    â€œHow do you know?”
    â€œWe know.”
    â€œNobody knows. That rumor has been around for months. Telephone is the blandest, dullest piece of action on the market. You are asking for a day sale, and this firm would not stand for even a little one. It’s out of the question.”
    â€œYou mean you won’t sell me stock?”
    â€œA hundred shares of Telephone—sure. You have an account with us. Buy a hundred shares. Don’t be greedy—”
    They stalked out while Gibson was talking. The next stop was Doris’s brother, who was a lawyer and made a good living out of it and could have gone on living if he never saw Martin Chesell again.
    â€œI should underwrite six million of credit for you? You got to be kidding.”
    â€œI’m not kidding, I’m dead serious,” Martin replied, telling himself, “You, you son of a bitch, what a pleasure it would be to toss you out on your fat ass if you came pleading to me. Time—just give me time.”
    â€œAm I permitted to ask what for?” his brother-in-law said.
    â€œTo make an investment in the market,” Martin said. “I am desperate. It is eleven o’clock. This is the first real chance I ever had. Please,” he pleaded, ‘‘do you want me to get down on my knees?”
    â€œIt would be an interesting position for a snotty guy like you,” the brother-in-law said. “I should be happy to underwrite seventy-five cents for you, Martin. For a whole buck, I write it off immediately.”
    â€œYou may be my brother,” Doris said, “but to me you are a louse. May I spell it—l-o-u-s-e.”
    It was eleven-thirty when they got to the branch of the Chase Manhattan on upper Madison. Martin had been in college with the son of the present manager, and once he had introduced himself and Doris, the manager listened politely.
    â€œOf course, we would be happy to lend you the money,” he agreed. “In any amount you wish—providing you offer acceptable collateral.”
    â€œWould American Telephone stock be acceptable collateral?” Doris asked eagerly.
    â€œThe very best. And I think we might