the body prepared at once." He picked up a yellow pad.
"The name of the victim?"
"Robert Stanley."
Capitaine Duval was suddenly very still. He looked up.
"Robert Stanley?"
"Yes."
"The Robert Stanley?"
"Yes."
And Capitaine Duval's future suddenly became much
brighter. The gods had dropped blessing in his lap. Robert
Stanley was an international legend! The news of his death
would be repeated as an echo around the world, and he,
Capitaine Duval, was in control of the situation. The
immediate question was how to manipulate this event for
the maximum benefit to himself. Duval sat there, staring
into space, thinking.
"How soon can you release the body?" Captain Bargas
asked.
He looked up. "Ah. That's a good question." How much
time will it take for the press to arrive? Should I ask the
yacht's captain to participate in the interview? No. Why
share the glory with him? I will handle this alone.
"There is much to be done," he said regretfully.
"Papers to prepare …" He sighed. "It could well be a
week or more."
Captain Bargas was appalled. "A week or more? But you
said..."
"There are certain formalities to be observed," Duval
said sternly. "These matters can't be rushed." He picked up
the yellow pad again. "Who is the next of his relatives?"
Captain Bargas looked at Donald for help.
"I guess you'd better check with his attorneys in Los
Angeles."
"The names?"
"REYNOLDS & FRANK HAROLD ATTORNEYS AT
LAW."
6
A sign may be seen above the door with the legend
which one can read as REYNOLDS & FRANK HAROLD,
the Reynolds had been long deceased. Frank Harold was
still very much alive, and at seventy-eight, he was the
dynamo that powered the office, with sixty-five attorneys
working under him. He was perilously thin, with a full mane
of white hair, and he walked with the sternly straight
carriage of a military man. At this time, he was pacing back
and forth. He always has something on his mind. Trying to
feel better by using more never seems to work for a long
time. His mind was in a trouble.
He stopped in front of his secretary. "When Mr. Stanley
telephoned, didn't he give any indication of what he wanted to
see me about so urgently?"
"No, sir. He just said he wanted you to be at his house
at nine o'clock Monday morning, and to bring his will and a
notary."
"Thank you. Ask Mr. Brown to come in."
George Brown was one of the bright, innovative
attorneys in the office. A Harvard Law School graduate in
his forties, he was tall and lean, with blond hair, inquisitive
blue eyes sparkled with amusement, and an easy, graceful
presence. Brown was the troubleshooter for the firm, and
Frank Harold's choice to take over one day. If I had had a
son, Harold thought, I would have wanted him to be like
George. He watched as George Brown walked in.
"You're supposed to be salmon fishing up in
Newfoundland," George said.
"Something came up. Sit down, George. We have a
problem."
George sighed. "What else is new?"
"It's about Robert Stanley."
Robert Stanley was one of their most prestigious clients.
Half a dozen other law firms handled various Stanley
Enterprises subsidiaries, but Reynolds & Frank Harold
handled his personal affairs. Except for Harold, none of the
members of the firm had ever met him, but he was a legend
around the office.
"What's Stanley done now?" George asked.
"He's gotten himself dead."
George looked at him, shocked. "He's what?"
"I just received a fax from the police in Corsica.
Apparently Stanley crossed the street and was hit by a
truck."
"My God!"
"I know you've never met him, but I've represented him
for more than thirty years. He was a difficult man."
Harold leaned back in his chair, thinking about the past.
"There were really two Robert Stanley’s-the public one who
could coax the birds off the money tree, and the sonofabitch
who took pleasure in destroying people. He was a charmer,
but he could turn on you like an animal. He had a split
personality-he was both the animal charmer and the animal."
"Sounds fascinating."
"It was about thirty years ago-thirty-one, to be exact
when I joined this law firm. Old Man Reynold handled
Stanley then. You know how people use the phrase 'larger
than life'? Well, Robert Stanley was really larger than life. If
he didn't exist, you couldn't have invented him. He was a
colossus. He had an amazing energy and ambition. He was
a great athlete. He boxed in college and was a ten-goal polo
player. But even when he was young, Robert Stanley was
impossible. He was the only man I've ever known who was
totally without compassion. He was sadistic and
unreasonably cruel and unfair towards someone who has
harmed him, and he had the instincts of wolf who uses
other people’s problems and suffering for his own
advantage. He loved forcing his competitors into
bankruptcy.