Chapter 2
"Hi, honey!" William Harmon greeted from his hospital bed as his daughter entered the private suite. His greeting was filled with the warmth and affection that existed in their relationship, and his eyes would light up every time that he saw Debby.
"How are you feeling, Dad?" the twenty-eight-year-old girl asked as she took his hand and squeezed it affectionately. "You look good."
"Much better. I think they're keeping me here for the five hundred dollars a day that they charge for this suite," he chuckled. "Dr Harrington said this morning that I'll be able to go home as soon as they get my blood pressure down."
"Wonderful!"
"Pull up a chair and tell me what's going on at the house."
William Harmon watched his daughter slip out of her Persian wool coat and hang it in the closet. She wasn't only a product of his loins, but also of his mind. He had molded her carefully in his image of the perfect woman.
Deborah wore no makeup, other than a light coat of pale pink lipstick on her full, sensuous lips. She possessed great natural beauty, but William made her take pains to conceal her assets. After his disastrous first marriage to an actress, William Harmon adopted a strict Puritan morality. He couldn't stand what he called "painted women," and he demanded strict obedience to rigid codes of behavior.
The one thing that pained William Harmon was that Debby hadn't married. A number of young men had been able to see her great natural beauty beneath her plain facade, but Debby would never encourage a man beyond an occasional role of escort at a social party or theatre opening.
"There's not very much to tell you," she said as she sat down beside the bed and faced her father. 'The house is running well, but we all miss you. Matt went to the airport to meet Mr. Jensen last night."
"Jensen?"
"Jensen Mills," Debby said. "As I gather it, they're exploring the possibility of a merger."
"I don't think I'll ever understand that son of mine," William Harmon said with a deep sigh. "He's had merger on the brain these past few months. Harmon Industries doesn't need to merge with anybody!"
"Now, Dad, don't get excited. You know what that does to your blood pressure."
"I'm not excited, honey, just mystified by that son of mine."
"I'm no judge, Dad," Debby offered, "but it seems to me that Matt has done a good job as general manager."
"I suppose he has," Williams admitted grudgingly. "Right now, Harmon Industries is at the strongest position in its history. And that in itself is a good argument against merging with anybody."
"Did Dr. Harrington give you any idea when you will be able to come home?" Debby asked, changing the subject.
"Not specific, honey, but soon I would say. They're taking good care of me here, so I'm in no hurry. I just have to face up to the fact that at my age I have to take it easy and build up my strength. Aren't you supposed to leave Friday for Argentina?"
"Yes, but I've been wondering if it might not be best for me to call Betty and tell her that I'll have to put my visit off for a few months."
"Because of me?"
"Well," Debby said with a smile, "you are the only father I have. And I think I should be here with you while you're recovering."
"I won't hear of it, honey," William Harmon said firmly, his chest swelling with pride over the wonderful daughter he had. "I'm not in any danger and there are plenty of people to take care of me. You haven't seen Betty for five years and you've been planning this trip for months. I insist you go, honey. You'll love Argentina. It's a beautiful country."
"But..."
"No buts about it, Debby. I want you to go. When are you supposed to leave?"
"My reservations are for the day after tomorrow, but I could delay the trip for a week or two."
"I won't hear of it! Do you have your passport and everything?"
"Mary Ann at the office handled everything for me. She's a gem."
"It took me ten years to turn her into a good secretary," William Harmon chuckled. "I only hope that your brother appreciates her."
There was a knock at the door and a nurse entered the room.
"Oh, I didn't know you had a visitor, Mr. Harmon," the nurse said.
"That's all right," Debby said, standing and walking to the closet to retrieve her coat, "I have to run along now, anyway. I'll come back tonight, Dad. I told Mr. Johnson at the bank that I'd come in today for the traveler's checks and a letter of credit."
"Don't bother coming tonight, honey. Get packed and take care of all those little things you have to do before you leave. That's why I don't travel anymore. Too many details to arrange. Give me a ring tonight and if you have time tomorrow, drop by for a few minutes."
"Okay, and you get well," she said, kissing him on the cheek.
Debby still had misgivings about her trip to Argentina to visit Betty Santana, a girl that she hadn't seen since they had roomed together at Mills College. Betty had married a wealthy Argentina businessman and had been urging Debby to come visit for over a year.
The wind was nippy and brisk when she stepped out of the St. Francis Hospital, but the sun was shining bright and Debby felt like walking. She dismissed the family chauffeur and began walking toward Union Square. She grimaced when she passed a small poster that announced that the movie Deep Throat was playing at one of the adult theaters. Why do people wallow in filth and dirt like that? She asked herself.
She saw two men standing near the poster and noticed that one of them leered at her while she waited for the light to change so she could cross the street. Debby's face flushed and she was terribly aware of her body. No matter how she dressed, Debby had never been able to conceal her well-rounded, voluptuous body, and her skin crawled every time men undressed her boldly with their hungry eyes. In Debby's mind, it was smut like Playboy and Deep Throat that goaded men on. She felt terribly uncomfortable in a society in which there was so much emphasis on eroticism.
Debby had on several occasions considered joining a religious order, but her father was adamantly against such a move. And Debby had to admit to herself that she really didn't believe in the doctrine of any religion. She had spent six years in college, earning her Master's degree in Philosophy, and in her heart she was an agnostic.
She went to the bank and purchased five thousand dollars in traveler's checks. The manager gave her a notarized letter to establish her credit at the Bank of America branch office in Buenos Aires in case that she needed additional funds on her trip.
The rest of the afternoon was devoted to last-minute shopping and Debby arrived at the Harmon mansion on Pacific Street at a little past six.
At the very moment that Debby arrived home, Matthew Harmon was finishing his sixth cup of coffee in Mona's apartment as he read his father's complicated will for the third time. It was all he could do to control his rage. Debby was to get everything! Matthew was left with a trust of twenty-five thousand dollars a year for fifteen years, but his half-sister inherited the business, the real estate, everything!
Matt admitted to himself that he had expected something like this, but the inequity of it made him boil with anger. And while he wasn't a lawyer, the will seemed absolutely airtight to him. He nervously flipped back to the second page and read the strange "morals clause" again. It was so like the old prude!
"If either of my children," the clause read, "are discovered to engage in immoral behavior, publicly or privately, he or she shall receive the sum of one thousand dollars as his or her total inheritance under the terms of this will. In this event, all benefits under this testament shall be vested in the other sibling. In the event that it can be demonstrated that both children are guilty of immoral behavior, my entire estate is to be turned in the form of a trust to Stanford University for the purpose of a memorial fund to offer scholarships to outstanding students. The judgment of immoral conduct is left to the directors of the United Fellowship Church in San Francisco, California."
"What is it, darling?" Mona asked, offering to refill his cup again. "You look so depressed."
"My beloved father is leaving everything to my half-sister," he replied bitterly.
"Isn't there anything you can do?" Mona asked, hoping that the anxiety churning in her stomach didn't show. After she had come this far, the thought that her sugar daddy might run out of sugar scared the young girl.
"It looks airtight to me. Unless, of course, I could prove Debby was guilty of immoral conduct. That's a laugh! She hasn't even had an immoral thought in her life!"
"She's twenty-eight?" Mona asked, putting the coffee pot on the table and sitting on the arm of his chair. "Darling, she can't be a virgin! Twenty-eight-year-old virgins don't exist today!"
"Well, my half-sister is one, believe it or not," Matt said. "She's so damned pure, she makes the Virgin Mary look like a whore."
"But she's a woman," Mona insisted. "If she's so pure, why not hire somebody to ball her? I don't care what she looks like, there are plenty of horny men around who will ball anything in a skirt. You could hire a detective or something to take pictures."
"What?"
Mona repeated her suggestion adding, "Don't be so naive, Matt! Nobody is going to give you anything in this world. You have to use your wits to get by."
Matt stared up into Mona's pretty young face for a long moment. Gradually, his depression lifted and excitement began coursing through his veins.
"You're right!" he exclaimed, hitting his fist against his palm as he stood up, almost knocking Mona off the arm of the chair. "Baby, you've given me an idea!"
He walked over to the phone and dialed a number quickly. After two calls he located Harold Sorenson and made a date to meet him at the St. Francis Yacht Club in twenty minutes. Matt asked Mona to go out and make photo copies of the will and promised that he would call her later in the evening. Then he drove the few blocks to the club and took a table in the quiet bar. Harold Sorenson arrived a few minutes later and the two men talked quietly over vodka gimlets.
"That's about the wildest idea I've ever had thrown at me," the independent industrial security agent remarked when Matthew finished outlining his plan.
"But it will work," Matthew insisted.
"It could," Sorenson admitted. "But Christ, Mr. Harmon, I don't know a thing about Argentina."
"You speak Spanish," Matt commented. "That's why I called you. And I happen to know you're in a financial bind right now. I'm offering a quarter of a million and all expenses. You receive a generous advance on expenses and the quarter of a million comes in the ransom the company will pay. I might add, that's tax-free money."
"The carrot you're dangling in front of me is attractive, Mr. Harmon," Harold Sorenson said with a smile. "And it's no secret that I could use the bread. Let's see if I have this straight. I'm to organize a group, kidnap a girl somewhere in Argentina, demand a million-dollar ransom, and turn her into a sex machine while I hold her captive."
"And photograph her as an enthusiastic, willing sex machine."
"And photograph her, right. May I ask who the lucky girl is?"
"After you accept the assignment," Matthew replied. "What will you need for expenses?'
"That's a good question," Sorenson replied quietly, taking out a note pad and pencil. "I'll use local men here, so that means air fares and living expenses there. Let's say fifteen hundred a man, times four men is six grand. I'd better use a photographer from here, too. Probably twenty-five hundred for him. How tough is this sex thing going to be to crack?"
"Tough."
"Okay, I've got a friend who specializes in sexual psychology. I'll need two grand up front for him. We'll need cars and a safe house in Argentina. Say ten grand operating money. Let's see that comes to twenty thousand five hundred."
"Make it twenty-five thousand," Matthew said. "There is more if you need it. Tightest security. You're the only one to know what's going on."
"Right," Sorenson agreed. "Is the girl prominent enough to make headlines?"
"Yes," Matthew responded.
"Then the Argentina police will be hot after us," Sorenson sighed.
"That's why the job pays a quarter of a million," Matthew said with a smile. "I assume you will take all precautions and organize the perfect action. Frankly, I think you are involving too many men, but I suppose you know your business."
"I was thinking the same thing," Sorenson said. "The fewer I involve, the better the security. When does this action take place?"
"The girl leaves for Argentina day after tomorrow. She's scheduled to stay two weeks, but she's had a habit of changing her plans. The faster you act, the better. But remember, it must look like Argentina guerrillas kidnapped her."
"With all the kidnapping going on down there lately, I doubt that anybody would question it. Damn, this is terribly short notice I'll have to leave tomorrow. All I can say is that I hope they don't hang me for this."
"Well?" Matthew Harmon asked, raising his glass for a toast.
"You've got your man, Mr. Harmon," Harold Sorenson replied, raising his own glass and clinking it against that of the wealthy industrialist.