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architect’s rendering of the Harbour Pointe Club with its 168 units, tennis courts, pools, yacht basin and clubhouse.
    The concept represented thirteen months of planning, negotiating and spending. Twenty-eight thousand for an option on the land, not recoverable no matter what, against the price of $1.28 million. One hundred thousand spent on architectural fees, legal fees and other service fees. Allocation to payroll and personal expenses of the Harbour Pointe Club project, say fifty thousand.
    Now it could be started. No more roadblocks. Corps of Engineer approval, approvals from four departments of the State of Florida, from three regional commissions, from five Palm County governmental bodies, and even from the Fiddler Key Association. The contractors were lined up. An $11-million line of credit was all established. The feasibility study indicated that, after sellout, there would be a $2.8-million net before taxes. Or fold the whole tent right now and swallow the loss of the out-of-pocket hundredand seventy-eight thousand. It would be a legitimate business loss for the Marliss Corporation.
    Arguments in favor of folding it: Seventy-five thousand unsold condominium units in Florida, either completed or being constructed. Brutal interest rates. Fantastic prices for materials. A whole world on the slide into depression. And right now you could cash in for how much? Three and a half mil? Cashing in is the wrong term, being as how most of it is already in Treasury notes. So right now, dummy, you could put it into those municipals that are guaranteed by the Fed and paying like six and a half almost tax free, make it a net two hundred thou tax free. Rent a damn palace at Acapulco. The best booze and the best broads. Big staff. Keep house parties going for weeks at a time.
    And never have this feeling in the gut again? Never feel the queasy flutter of risk-taking, of high rolling, of doing things they said you’d never pull off?
    Arguments in favor of going ahead: When things look the blackest, then is the time to make your move, because you get the jump on the ones holding back. The politicians can’t risk big unemployment. They’ll goose the economy. The government protects industrial pensions. Social Security will keep going up. They have to come to Florida. Where else can they go? They’ll keep coming down and all you are betting, Marty, is that one hundred and sixty-eight of them will be able to spring for an average eighty-thousand-dollar apartment, sixty for the cheapest, a hundred for the tops. They’ll be on the water with an easement to the beach. They’ll keep coming until there’s no more water to drink or air to breathe, and that is a long time off. Like five years? And I can be in and out in two—
if
I decide to go ahead. Jesus Christ, it
is
scary.
    Miss Drusilla Bryne tapped upon his door and came in, a tallslender handsome girl, a blue-eyed brunette with delicate features and a strong Dublin accent. “It’s the ones from Golden Sands, darlin’. Maggie says they’re in reception a bit early.”
    “The who?”
    “The delegation. Four, not five, so one is missing. And one is a Mr. McGinnity, their president.”
    He frowned. “Oh, shit! I forgot. Would you get me my confidential file on Golden Sands?”
    “There on the corner of your desk where I put it not an hour ago, love.”
    “So what are the rest of the instructions?”
    She laughed. “Oh, to tape it, in case there’s any threats at all. And to stay at my desk and watch the little box, so if the blue light comes on I can come in and tell you you have something important to do. And … hmmm … tell Lew to stand by in case you should call him in for some legal matter.”
    “Almost perfect. The only other thing is give them the coffee routine, the first-class version.”
    “They’re all that important now?”
    “No. But they are going to be very pissed. Benji’s arithmetic was way off.”
    “You’ll tell me when to go bring