J R

And Davidoff found himself standing alone — on the northernmost line of defense of this tiny Dutch settlement, and once we cross Wall Street boys and girls, he led in a brave stride off the curb, — we’re in Indian country… pausing past the dark mass of — an Italian Renaissance palace in Italy, but it’s really the Federal Reserve Bank and there are millions of dollars right under your feet, in vaults five stories down in bed rock… and they kicked at the filthy pavement experimentally, eddying round him finally as he stopped at a portal plaqued Crawley & Bro. over vicious chevaux-de-frise, to allot them to the elevators within.

— Boy, hey…

— Look at that one…!

— Boy hey what would you do if they were all alive?

But of all the eyes fixed on them only the blue ones moved, as the blonde behind the desk ahead looked up; the others simply stared with hapless fixity relieved, in the wild hog, by some remembered ferocity, by rue in an antelope — like a regular jungle hey…

— What I told you, the Museum of Nat…

— Where’s the snakes? They got any snakes Mrs Joubert?

But she’d sunk back on a leather bench, left the assault to their guide’s officious requests for — the photographer, has he showed up yet? Nobody from my office here? One of our PR boys was, oh and Shirl has Monty called? I’m expecting a call from Monty here and the cars, the limousines…

A loud buzz cut him off. She pushed her nail polish aside and responded to the box at her elbow. — Yes sir, yes sir… oh and Mister Crawley, Mister Davidoff is here with… yes sir.

— And Shirl, tell him…

— He’ll be right out, she said, as an unencumbered massive panel behind her proved to be a door.

— What in God’s…!

— I want you to meet a real live stock broker boys and girls, this is Mister Crawley, he came on with the sweep he had used to introduce them to the father of their country — oh and Crawley, he added in a hoarse aside, — don’t try any fast ones on them. They’re a pretty shrewd bunch!

— We’ll try not to take a lot of your time, Mister Crawley, said Mrs Joubert. — We just wanted the class to learn something about actually buying stock through a broker…

— No trouble no trouble at all, for you. Shirley? Get that Diamond Cable certificate out, the one…

— Yes sir. Telephone.

— For me…? Davidoff’s arm shot out and the reach of heavy tweed over his shoulder came near garroting him with its cord. — If it’s Monty better let me…

— Crawley here. What? No, I don’t know what the hell’s going on there nobody does… What? no, it’s not just two or three stocks, it’s the whole market… do what? Certainly not. If you want to quote me you can say the long overdue technical readjustments taking place in our present dynamic market situation offer no convincing evidence of the sort that has characterized long-term deterioration in past major business downturns. What might appear at this ah, this juncture as conflicting behavior, the conflicting behavior of prevailing economic forces… right. Expect a certain leveling off period when… right. Right. Any time… Shirley? any more papers call tell them I’m out, he finished handing back the phone, turning, — now. These young ladies and gentlemen are here to buy some stock are they?

— Right this way boys and girls.

— They, wait a minute here…!

— Just want to get them inside for the pictures.

— Pictures?

— It’s Mister Moncrieff, sir.

— Oh here, wait! sorry… Davidoff let the door go in their faces — he said he’d call me here if…

— Monty? Crawley here.

— Tell him I…

— Hold on a minute. Just get them settled in there will you Dave? I’ll be right along. Now, Monty? You did, eh? So did I. Nobody knows what the hell’s going on over there… Box? How the hell would he know he’s right in the midst of it, he… you will? What time do you leave for Washington, I’ll be… close that door there will you Shirley? I said I’ll be…

— Boy!

— More!

— Still no snakes?

— What’s that skinny one up there with the great big eyes, it looks sad.

— You’d be sad too if you…

— It says kudu.

— Well now, said Davidoff sitting, — we’re a long way from that old buttonwood tree aren’t we, boys and girls… and he’d barely shot his cuffs, treating them all to a double bolt of sapphires, when the panel door easing open brought him to his feet. — What is it, Shirl…? But the blonde stopped a step inside to bend over Mrs Joubert, who nodded and excused herself. — Yes, well… he sat again slowly watching the door ease closed, — are there, does anybody have a question?

A sweatered arm shot up from a distant bastion of brown leather. — What’s a warrant?