Ravens by George Dawes Green

Author:George Dawes Green
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Fiction - General, American Mystery & Suspense Fiction, Fiction, Psychological, Suspense, Thrillers, General
ISBN: 9780446538978
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2010-09-15T07:00:00+00:00

Shaw went with Mitch to visit this big financial guy, Henry Lonsdale. Lonsdale lived in a parvenu mansion in the Black Banks neighborhood of St. Simon’s Island. Tabby walls and cold beetling balconies, windows of smoked glass. From the driveway you were led by the maid beneath a columned pergola to the ‘office’, which had a twenty-foot-high vestibule. One wall was adorned with trophies and plaques for bass-fishing prowess.

Lonsdale came in and introduced himself. Shaw asked him, “You really won the Bassmaster Southern Open?”

“Which one? Oh, yes. ’06.”

“Wow. What’d you haul?”

Lonsdale shrugged. “Oh, I think 59, 3. Something like that.”

“God. What were you throwing?”

“Well, I started spinner but swimbait filled my bag. If memory serves I used a King Shad.”

“That’s soft?”

“That’s a hardbody. It all depends on your throw. I saw you on TV, Mr. McBride. I take it you like to fish?”

“Just, well, up in Ohio. Where I’m from. Never largemouth. I’d love to cast for largemouth.”

“Well, there’s not a lot of that action here on the coast. But I’ll gladly take you jigging for redfish, if you’d like.”

“I would like that very much.”

It was plain that fishing was Lonsdale’s passion in life. He told Shaw he didn’t do finance full-time anymore. “A few clients, just to keep my hand in,” he said, imperially.

At the man’s great stone desk, three factotums awaited. Banker, Accountant, Lawyer. They all wore shimmery suits, and looked you in the eye when they shook your hand, and imagined they were big movers and shakers. But Henry Lonsdale in his tennis shoes and chinos outclassed them easily. While they chattered amongst themselves, he flopped into his chair behind the desk and took up the twelve-page memo of understanding, and leafed through it — and then when he was ready, he simply launched. It was a joy to witness. The way he just shredded the thing. Slicing out one phrase and transplanting another, X-ing out extraneous dross, peppering the poor fools with questions and complaints, brooking no dissent and contemptuous of any hesitation. What a show! Shaw, transfixed, said not a word but once or twice he laughed out loud. And only after the thing seemed to have been settled to everyone’s satisfaction did he dare to inquire:

“Oh, Henry. By the way. Do you think I could have some cash?”

Smiles all around. Lonsdale finally saying, “Cash?”

Shaw nodded. “I could use a little bit of cash.”

“Shaw. It’ll all be cash.”

“It will?”

“The whole shebang. What we’re talking about is getting you out of cash the moment it lands — and into securities, into long-term investments, so you can start earning some return on your capital—”

“But I want to start giving it away.”

“So I understand,” said Mr. Lonsdale. “But you know, we’ll need to set up a foundation —”

“I don’t want a foundation. There isn’t time.”

“There isn’t? Why not?”

“Because the world is coming to an end.”

How gravely and stupidly they took in his words. The Banker, the Accountant, the Lawyer: they all had the mien of grieving cattle. Shaw broke into a wide grin.

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