LONDON RAIN, Part 28
Within minutes, J.R. realized the limousine had entered the City of London, the Square Mile that was the heart of London's business and financial service industries. Lloyd's of London and the London Stock Exchange were among the famous residents and just like the American and Japanese counterparts located in New York City and Toyko, trillions in currencies, stocks, bonds, and commodities were traded there each day. He'd even done some business there himself on several occasions.
"We have arrived, Mr. Ewing," announced one of his bulky escorts as the car slowly pulled to a stop in the shadows of one of the tall, imposing office buildings. "Please follow me."
As the two large men stepped out of the car, J.R. did as instructed. Once he was standing on the sidewalk, he took in his surroundings and was both relieved and amused. He had been expecting to be dropped off at some dingy warehouse on a wharf, not in the center of London's financial district, just down the street from the hallowed halls of St. Paul's Cathedral. That made him smile. The London extension of organized crime certainly had nerve.
The trio entered the building and crossed through an impressive lobby that led to four matching elevators. They didn't wait long before an empty car arrived and the trip to the chosen floor was thankfully quick. After following a maze of hallways, they arrived at an office suite that rivaled that in the old Ewing Oil building. Across the glass doors in bold gold lettering, "St. James Enterprises" announced the occupant. It all seemed so civilized.
One of the linebackers opened the door and motioned J.R. through as the other went to the reception desk. He leaned down to whisper something to the receptionist and within moments, J.R. was ushered into the main office.
Once inside, J.R. surveyed the impressive room. The lighting was warm and inviting, illuminating richly textured walls filled with shelves of leather-bound books and decorated with paintings of horses in rural settings. It felt more like a den than an office and gave no clue at being the nerve center of an organized crime syndicate.
The same man who had announced their arrival went over to the dark leather chair partially hidden behind a massive desk occupying the center of the room.
"Mr. Ewing, sir," he carefully said then backed away and returned to J.R.'s side.
The chair slowly turned, revealing an older man with a slight build and glasses.
"Ah, Mr. Ewing," he said as he stood up from behind the desk. "How nice of you to join me."
The sarcasm wasn't lost on J.R. but he bit back a reply. Both the man's voice and demeanor were dry and precise with very little expression illuminating either. He looked more like a librarian than a Mafia don and it was probably what made him so successful. It would be difficult to suspect the shy, quiet little man of anything criminal based on his appearance alone. He sure as hell wasn't Marlon Brando.
J.R. would have laughed at the mental comparison except for the uneasiness he felt. Summing up all the nerve Jock has instilled in him long ago, he boldly stepped toward the desk and grinned, offering his hand to the older man.
"I appreciate the opportunity, Mr. St. James."
St. James was momentarily startled by the audacity of the American. The entire situation had been set up to intimidate him yet he was confident, almost jovial. Somewhat wary, St. James took the offered hand and returned the handshake.
J.R. was impressed by the surprisingly strong grip but the man's touch also caused a shiver of dread to run down his spine. All pretenses aside, instinct told him to be careful. Instantly controlling himself, focusing on the task at hand, J.R. looked St. James in the eye and grinned once more.
"So, what can I do for you, sir?"
St. James looked at J.R. for a moment more then returned the grin. This American had possibilities.
"Sit down, please, Mr. Ewing," St. James said as he motioned to a side chair and resumed his seat. Watching as J.R. settled into the chair, the man began tapping his finger on a file folder. "The business proposal you sent to me was quite intriguing albeit unexpected. Tell me more about your interest in Lockwood Entertainment."
"Well, sir … I decided to strike while the iron was hot, so to speak." The fake sincerity J.R. had practiced for years sounded genuine. "Besides, there is no love loss between Lockwood and myself. To be perfectly honest, Mr. St. James, I can't stand the man." J.R. paused and grinned. "Takin' over his company is a mighty temptin' prospect."
"Well, that is refreshingly honest, Mr. Ewing," St. James said, amused by the arrogant answer. "But what of Mrs. Lockwood? Your ex-wife wouldn't appreciate you acquiring Lockwood Entertainment, would she?"
J.R.'s smile faded at the mention of Sue Ellen. St. James had obviously done his homework. He had also just subtly increased the stakes, almost making it a threat.
"I certainly hope not," J.R. replied tightly, sounding more annoyed than apprehensive.
"Oh come now, Mr. Ewing," St. James said with a brief chuckle as he tapped the folder in front of him once again. "You wouldn't pay such a large amount of money simply for revenge, leaving you stuck with a company so far removed from your area of expertise." He leaned forward and peered at J.R. "So, allow me to rephrase the question. What possible use would an oilman have for a movie company?"
The veiled threats were coming faster and faster but J.R. faked a smile of admiration. "To use an American term, sir, I plan on raidin' it. I'll break Lockwood Entertainment into little pieces then sell 'em off to the highest bidder."
"Destroy it outright?"
"Yes. Properties tend to move faster that way and generate quicker profits. Plus it tends to make the former owners squirm."
"Hmmmm, interesting," St. James mused. He sat back in his chair and observed J.R. for several moments then continued. "You should know that Mrs. Lockwood has made quite a substantial counteroffer to pay off the debt and assume ownership."
"Has she now?" A shimmer of amusement mixed with pride gleamed in J.R.'s eyes.
"Yes indeed," the older man nodded smugly in reply. "She made the offer in person."
J.R. swallowed hard realizing he had just stepped from a negotiation into a trap. How had Sue Ellen gained access to St. James? That thought made a chill ran down his spine once again.
St. James slowly stood up from behind his desk and motioned to two large doors at the side of the room. The brawny guards opened them simultaneously then St. James motioned to J.R.
"Come this way, Mr. Ewing."
J.R. stood up and could see the doors opened into an impressive boardroom. As he followed behind St. James, he caught a glimpse of four lone figures sitting at the end of a massive oak table: Don Lockwood, Sue Ellen, John Ross, and a man he didn't recognize, each with a very large guard hovering behind them.
It was a trap, just as he had suspected.
