Stolen Without A Gun by Neil Weinberg & Pavlo Jr. Walter

Author:Neil Weinberg & Pavlo Jr., Walter
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Etika LLC
Published: 2007-09-03T00:00:00+00:00

The following week Pavlo traveled to Chicago to meet with Pete Cassidy, a local Sales vice president, and to present Rapid Advance to his reps. Neither Folk nor Wanserski, who were in town on other business, seemed to have caught wind of the Manatee program and Pavlo preferred to keep it that way. After meeting with them, Pavlo sneaked off to meet with Cassidy, feeling like a kid slipping out the bedroom window in the middle of the night for some mischief.

When Pavlo walked into the room, Cassidy’s reps broke into applause. He thought they were psyched about Rapid Advance but it turned out they were cheering his Bespoke Apparel suit. Jesus, he thought. I may as well wear a sign saying “Embezzler.” He decided to go back to wearing the cheap suits he’d worn before Mann redressed him.

The reps ate up his Rapid Advance presentation, and then Cassidy took him to dinner at Morton’s Steak House.

“There’s a client called Tel-Central Communications that could be really big for us this year,” Cassidy told him. “It’s ramping up like crazy, but I’ve got doubts about its owner. A guy named Denny McLain. You know him?”

“Not the pitcher who won thirty games?”

“Thirty-one,” corrected Cassidy. “For the Detroit Tigers in 1968.”

“Tel-Central’s on our watch list, but I had no idea Denny McLain was involved,” Pavlo said. “I’ve been dealing with some finance guy but haven’t gotten anywhere.”

“Denny calls the shots. He’s a real piece of work, too. Flies his own plane around. He’s had some serious brushes with the law too. Did time for trafficking coke some years back.17 He also got indicted this May for helping himself to some company’s pension fund.”18

“Can you get McLain to come down to Atlanta for a little powwow?” Pavlo asked.

“I’ll see what I can do. Watch him, Walt. I mean it.”

A few days later, McLain few to Atlanta. Pavlo was shocked to see how the Cy Young award winner had turned into a swollen middleager. He was wearing an untucked tropical shirt, blowsy pants, and deck shoes with no socks. Instead of a briefcase, he was carrying a small Converse gym bag like Pavlo had used in high school.

What did impress him about McLain was his gift of gab. A radio personality in Detroit, he regaled Pavlo with accounts of his athletic derring-do in the 1968 World Series, and against Mickey Mantle.

“They say I served up a home run to Mantle, but the son-of-a-bitch could hit anything a mile. He favored my fastball though,” McLain said with a wink.19

“I don’t even want to know what that means,” Pavlo said holding up his hand. “Listen, I need a commitment from you to start paying on time. They pay me to make sure you play by the rules.”

“Good Lord, of course I’m gonna play by the rules! Promise! Our problems were temporary. You got any kids, Walt?”

McLain was a manipulator, like most of the people Pavlo had to put up with. He wondered where this manipulation was going.

“Two sons.

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