"I'm not interested in the stock market," Demiris snapped. "Don't bother me again unless you have something important to tell me."
"I'm sorry, Mr. Demiris. I thought..."
But Demiris had hung up.
At eight o'clock, when Demiris's assistant, Giannis Tcharos, walked in, Constantin Demiris looked up from his desk. "There's a company on the New York Stock Exchange, Aurora International. Notify all our newspapers that the company is being investigated for fraud. Use an anonymous source, but spread the word. I want them to keep hammering at the story until the stock drops. Then, start buying until I have control."
"Yes, sir. Is that all?"
"No. After I've acquired control, announce that the rumors were unfounded. Oh, yes. See that the New York Stock Exchange is notified that Spyros Lambrou bought his stock on insider information."
Giannis Tcharos said delicately, "Mr. Demiris, in the United States, that is a criminal offense."
Constantin Demiris smiled. "I know."
A mile away, at Syntagma Square, Spyros Lambrou was working in his office. His workplace reflected his eclectic taste. The furniture consisted of rare antiques, a mixture of French and Italian. Three of the walls were covered with the works of French Impressionists. The fourth wall was devoted to an array of Belgian artists, from Van Rysselberghe to De Smet. The sign on the outer-office door read: LAMBROU AND ASSOCIATES, but there had never been any associates. Spyros Lambrou had inherited a successful business from his father, and over the years he had built it into a worldwide conglomerate.
Spyros Lambrou should have been a happy man. He was rich and successful, and he enjoyed excellent health. But it was impossible for him to be truly happy as long as Constantin Demiris was alive. His brother-in-law was anathema to him. Lambrou despised him. Demiris was polymichanos, a man fertile in devices, a scoundrel without morals. Lambrou had always hated Demiris for his treatment of Melina, but the savage rivalry between them had its own terrible nexus.
It had begun ten years earlier, at a lunch Spyros Lambrou had with his sister. She had never seen him so excited.
"Melina, did you know that every single day the world consumes all the fossil fuel it took a thousand years to create?"
"No, Spyros."
"There's going to be a tremendous demand for oil in the future, and there aren't going to be enough oil tankers to handle it."
"You're going to build some?"
He nodded. "But not just ordinary tankers. I'm going to build the first fleet of large tankers. They'll be twice as large as the present ones." His voice was filled with enthusiasm. "I've spent months going over the figures. Listen to this. A gallon of crude petroleum hauled from the Persian Gulf to an eastern-coast port of the United States costs seven cents. But on a big tanker, the cost would come down to three cents a gallon. Do you have any idea what that could mean?"
"Spyros - where are you going to get the money to build a fleet like that?"
He smiled. "That's the beautiful part of my plan. It won't cost me a cent."
"What?"
He leaned forward. "I'm going to America next month to talk to the heads of the big oil companies. With these tankers, I can carry their oil for them for half the price they can carry it."
"But...you don't have any big tankers."
His smile turned into a grin. "No, but if I can get long-term charter contracts from the oil companies, the banks will loan me the money I need to build them. What do you think?"
"I think you're a genius. It's a brilliant plan."
Melina was so excited about her brother's idea that she mentioned it to Demiris that evening at dinner.
When she had finished explaining it, Melina said, "Isn't that a wonderful idea?"
Constantin Demiris was silent for a moment. "Your brother's a dreamer. It could never work."
Melina looked at him in surprise. "Why not, Costa?"
"Because it's a harebrained scheme. In the first place, there's not going to be that big a demand for oil, so those mythical tankers of his will run empty. Secondly, the oil companies aren't about to turn their precious oil over to a phantom fleet that doesn't even exist. And third, those bankers he's going to will laugh him out of their offices."
Melina's face clouded with disappointment. "Spyros was so enthusiastic. Would you mind discussing it with him?"
Demiris shook his head. "Let him have his dream, Melina. It would be better if he didn't even know about our conversation."
"All right, Costa. Whatever you say."
Early the following morning Constantin Demiris was on his way to the United States to discuss large tankers. He was aware that the world petroleum reserves outside the United States and the Soviet bloc territories were controlled by the seven sisters: Standard Oil Company of New Jersey, Standard Oil Company of California, Gulf Oil, the Texas Company, Socony-Vacuum, Royal Dutch-Shell, and Anglo-Iranian. He knew that if he could get just one of them, the others were sure to follow.
Constantin Demiris's first visit was to the executive offices of Standard Oil of New Jersey. He had an appointment with Owen Curtiss, a fourth vice-president.
"What can I do for you, Mr. Demiris?"
"I have a concept that I think could be of great financial benefit to your company."
"Yes, you mentioned that over the telephone." Curtiss glanced at his wristwatch. "I have a meeting in a few minutes. If you could be brief..."
"I'll be very brief. It costs you seven cents to haul a gallon of crude petroleum from the Persian Gulf to the eastern coast of the United States."