Chapter 10

"Are you sure you're doing the right thing, Wendell?"

Clara Hill was a plain woman, plain in her looks, plain in the way of life she pursued with her husband, plain in the philosophies and conventions to which she adhered.

"It's what I must do," Clara."

They were at the breakfast table, and the paper that told of Wendell Hill's exploits was spread on the table. Clara Hill shook her head dubiously. "But you never talked of things like this city government and such. You never showed much interest in such things."

"There was nothing I could do about them before."

"Men like Vincent Kane and Arthur Ringler they seem so dangerous so untouchable."

"They are not untouchable not by any means. No one has taken the field against them. That's the trouble."

"But there have been other grand juries."

"Ineffective ones, you mean? That's quite true. But it's no excuse for me to shirk my duty."

"Isn't it the business of the police to arrest wrongdoers? Why should you have to take your time leave your job to "

"Please Clara. I have to do what I think best."

"Of course you do, dear, but the city government is so dishonest. Everybody taking bribes. Everybody violating their oaths of office."

"It isn't quite like that. The vast majority of public servants are honest. It's the small minority that contaminates the bowl."

"Everyone complains but no one does anything."

Wendell Hill smiled. "But now we are doing something."

"But Wendell, what can you do against their power?"

"Their power is an illusion, really, my dear. The power is still in the hands of the people, if and when they want to use it. The grand jury is an instrument of the people."

"I never knew just how it works."

"It's quite simple. A grand jury is convened by a judge to pass on the circumstances of lawlessness. Every accused person gets a hearing. The grand jury room is the place where many of these hearings occur. If the grand jury decides there is not sufficient evidence against an accused person, the case is not prosecuted."

"Who brings the accused people before the jury."

"The district attorney does that."

"Then I'd think the jury would get only cases he wishes them to pass on."

"Normally that is the case. But the foreman of the grand jury has powers that are seldom exercised. With the backing of his jury, the foreman can demand to hear anyone he chooses. The district attorney must take his orders if he gives them."

"But I understood the district attorney could dissolve the grand jury."

"No. Not according to law. It amounts to that most of the time in practical application because the judges who actually dissolve the juries work on the district attorney's recommendation. But in exceptional cases, such as the one we've gotten into, only the most venal judge would act arbitrarily. And even then a higher judge would usually overrule him."

Clara sighed. "I suppose it will all work out for the best, but I still wish the responsibility was not yours. I guess I'm afraid for you."

"Don't be, my dear. Threatening or molesting members of a grand jury is too serious a crime for even Arthur Ringler or Vincent Kane to attempt ... "

"You're crazy, Vince! You can't touch the foreman of any grand jury. It's too dangerous. And trying to mess around with Wendell Hill would be suicide!"

"Hell, Barney. Everybody's got their price."

Barney Williams was in a phone booth in the lobby of City Hall. He was frowning.

And he was worried.

Kane had changed a great deal fn the previous few days. Things were going so well in the war with

Art Ringler that Vince must have reacted to the scent of new power. That was the only answer to Kane's new arrogance that Barney could think of.

"Look Vince I've been doing some thinking."

"Okay," Kane said crisply. "I pay you for your thinking time too, so what have you come up with?"

Still scowling, Barney Williams pondered before answering. He didn't like the peremptory tone in Kane's voice. But he'd heard it before and he wondered why it bothered him now.

"I think you ought to get together with Ringler," Barney said. "We're in a dangerous situation. You might well collapse his vice balloon, but things could backfire. A real reform movement might start. That would wipe you out of town too."

"You don't have much confidence in me, do you?"

"That's not it. We can get Ringler sure but Hill might not be sidetracked by vice and sensationalism. He might plow right on through the numbers and the pin-balls and everything else."

"You're making that damned grease monkey bigger than he really is."

Barney was struck by the inconsistency of Kane; the rationalizations his ego forced upon him. He conceded Hill the power to smash the powerful machine headed by Art Ringler. but withdrew this concession when his own gambling empire was in question.

"There's enough in this town for both of you. The only thing involved is your personal hatred of each other."

"Are you going over to his side? What did he pay you, Barney?"

"That's uncalled for, Vince."

"I guess maybe it is. But quit giving me reasons to say uncalled-for things"

"Okay," Barney said coldly. "I'll call you later."

"Right. Keep me posted..."

Barney Williams left the booth. He was not a happy man. For the first time since he'd worked for Kane, he had been disloyal. It had been a treason of omission. He'd called Vince to tell him that a process server was on the way with a subpoena to appear before the grand jury. With warning Vince could have avoided the service and left the brunt of the ordeal on Art Ringler.

But Barney had not warned Kane. And now he left the booth, shaken by his own treachery...

. . . "I think you're safe now," Barney said. "You will be called as a witness against your attackers, but Art Ringler isn't interested in you anymore. You won't be bothered by phony protection."

"Everyone seems more interested in a girl called Flame," Barbara said.

She had a copy of the morning paper in which the story had been luridly played up:

POLITICAL BOSS CALLED VICE LORD Arthur Ringler Accused By Call Girl. Heatedly Denies Charges.

In a series of sensational charges, a call girl and admitted prostitute today charged Arthur Ringler, the city's most potent political boss with being responsible for her downfall. The charges, if proven true, will most certainly destroy Ringler as a political figure.

Slated to go before the grand jury at 10 a.m. today, Ringler was defiant and bitter. Ringler claims that he is the victim of a plot instigated by a long-time bitter enemy, Vincent Kane, local boss according to Ringler, of the lower east side policy racket. Kane, called before the grand jury also, denies any involvement.

A shadowy figure known only as Mr. Bates is being sought for questioning as the alleged link between Ringler and the city's well-organized vice activities ...

Barney glanced at the paper and smiled a humorless smile. "It looks as though the fat's really in the fire, doesn't it?"

"What are you going to do afterward, Barney?"

He looked surprised. "Afterward?"

"This is the end for both of them, isn't it? They destroy each other."

"I don't think so."

He had seen Barbara several times since the typewriter episode and the meetings, while not hostile, had certainly been cool.

"You mean that they will be able to go on with what they've been doing after this?"

"As terrible as it may sound to you yes. There will be some sensational testimony. A lot of people will be hurt. But the public forgets."

"I don't understand. Ringler will most certainly be indicted on the strength of Flame's testimony. The newspaper publicity alone will ruin both of them."

Barney smiled again. "You'll notice that the papers were very careful in one respect. Their reference to Flame is guarded. They mention her professional name only once at the very end of the story. And her real name isn't used at all."

"Why is that?"

"Because nothing has been proved. At the moment all this might be nothing but a lot of irresponsible charges. There is no concrete evidence to the contrary. Newspapers only go so far with allegations. They want facts."

"The facts will come out at the grand jury hearing won't they?"

"Yes. But there is one point everyone overlooks. The grand jury cannot indict. It can only recommend. It finds the evidence sufficient for trial and the district attorney takes over from there."

"You seem so pessimistic so sure there will be no results from this."

"I am pessimistic. I know so many things that can happen in a corrupt administration when the immediate spotlight of publicity is turned off. Deals arrangements for the good of the party for the general welfare of the city. The 'sweep it under the rug boys' the strong uptown politicians haven't moved into action yet. Ringler isn't as big as a lot of people think. Kane is relatively small time. They are both fronts for other people. The important people the really solid ones never get their names in the papers. They are never touched."

"What you say is frightening," Barbara murmured.

"It's reality. I'm basing most of what I say about this affair on instinct. Something is missing. It hasn't got the flash or the spark to really make it go off."

"I don't quite understand what you mean."

"I don't really understand it myself."

"But you're pretty well fed up with the whole business, aren't you, Barney?"

"Why do you say that?"

Barbara held up a quick hand. "Now don't flare up. I'm not trying to tell you what to do. I wouldn't dream of trying to run your life. But I am in love with you, and maybe that gives me clearer perceptions."

He stared at her. "In love with me!"

"Does that sound so terrible? And why is it such a surprise? If you'll remember, you came to me and asked me if I thought you loved me."

"So I did."

"I think you do."

"I think we're both being very foolish."

"Why are you afraid of it, Barney? Love isn't a trap."

"I'm not cut out for that sort of thing."

"You've changed," Barbara said. "You're not the same man you were when we met. What happened, Barney?"

"Nothing happened," he said savagely. "You're reading lines into the script. My boss has been in a bind. I've been trying to get him out. Things have been a little rough."

There was pain in Barbara's eyes. "I want to ask you a question, Barney. I want you to answer as truthfully as you can."

"Very well."

"Are you having second thoughts about us because of what happened to me?"

"What do you mean?"

"I was raped, brutalized "

He held up his hand in protest. "Barbara--! "

"Let me finish because it's very important. I was taken by four men and made to do terrible things." She closed her eyes and the words came out with difficulty. "I never gave anyone the details, but I'm sure you know what happened to me. But you don't know that toward the end I did them willingly. They broke me at least temporarily, Barney. In the end, they had me crawling because all I wanted to do was to please them so they would finish and go away. I had to tell you that. I had to give you the absolute truth because well, because there must not be any misunderstanding between us. I would rather walk away than have you always wonder exactly how it was."

"But why should I wonder? Why should it be necessary that I know the details."

"If you don't love me it makes no difference at all. But if you do, there must be honesty. There must be--oh, I don't know. Will you leave? Will you get out of here?"

Barbara turned away and flung herself on the lounge. Barney waited helplessly for a few moments. Then he moved toward the door.

As he closed it behind him, Barbara burst into hysterical tears. He listened a few moments before he walked away.

Down in the street, pure misery was his lot. He was deeply sorry for Barbara. He understood what she was going through. He wanted to help her but he could not.

None of what she'd said was true. But she was right in her perceptions. There was something wrong. But he could not tell her what it was.

He could not tell her that he was in love with a call girl.

A call girl named Flame.

Wendell Hill looked at Egan, Colin Avery's most dynamic young assistant, and said, "I'd like to question the gentlemen if I may."

Egan nodded reluctantly. He'd expected this but had tried to forestall it and lead Art Ringler through a series of as harmless questions as possible.

He nodded again. "Certainly. Question him by all means," he said, and stepped back.

Wendell Hill leaned forward across his desk. "Mr. Ringler. Are you acquainted with a man named Bates?"

Art Ringler scowled. "Bates? What's his first name?"

"I don't know. The first name has not been stated."

"There are a lot of men named Bates in the city."

"I know, but we're speaking of the Mr. Bates that Miss Brown referred to in her testimony. The man who appears to be in charge of certain vice activities around the city."

"That could be anybody. I don't know about any vice activities myself. If I found out about them I'd put a stop to them in a hurry. Or at least I'd refer them to our police department. There are a lot of good men on our police force. They hate that sort of thing "

Wendell Hill had been waving his hand trying to stop Ringler. He finally succeeded. "We are well aware of that. Mr. Ringler. There are many good honest men on our police force. The vast majority of them are interested in doing a good, honest job. At the moment, we are interested in the factors that keep them from always doing their best."

"If I ever found any of those factors I'd put a stop to them in a hurry. At least, I'd refer them to "

"Yes, I know. But about Mr. Bates. Do you know any men named Bates?"

"Yes yes I do. There's Arney Bates. He owns a butcher shop down on Ferry Street near where I was born and raised. I'm a native of this city, Mr. Foreman. All my life I've worked my heart out to see to it that the taxpayers get their money's worth. I-"

"Any other men named Bates, Mr. Ringler?"

"There's Charley Bates over in the dock district. His little girl got polio five years ago, and I "

"Any other men by that name?"

Wendell Hill was getting a little desperate. He was beginning to realize that honesty and courage were not enough; that he was a mechanic and as such was not equipped nor trained to get honest answers, even under oath, from slippery liars like Art Ringler.

He realized too, that he was pretty much alone in this crusade. The other members of the jury were actually a little embarrassed about all this. They were decent and honest also, but they were only citizens who had come to listen and make up there minds about evidence presented. They were not skilled at prying this evidence out of reluctant witnesses.

That was the district attorney's job.

And Wendell Hill had to admit that so far he'd given them little that was tangible. Not enough to indict the men at whom the inquiry had been aimed.

Art Ringler, sensing his advantage, smiled expansively at the rest of the jurors and then returned his attention to Hill.

"Mr. Foreman, I'm happy to be here. I want you to understand that. I was subpoenaed, sure, but if I hadn't been, I'd have asked to be heard. I think it's every citizen's duty to get up in court and state what he knows. That's one of the basic foundations of our government. I "

"Yes, Mr. Ringler. Most laudable, I'm sure. But I have no more questions at this time..."

Egan smiled. "I have no further questions either, Mr. Ringler...

Barney Williams entered the waiting room from which the witnesses were called, one by one, before the grand jury. Vince Kane sprang up from his chair. He scowled.

"Where have you been?" he whispered harshly. "Busy," Barney said.

Kane looked around at the others. He did not try to hide his annoyance. "Let's go out in the hall."

The uniformed guard at the door did not object and they stood outside where he could see them through a crack beside the slightly open panel. "Did you find Bates?"

Barney shook his head. "He's a slippery character. He disappeared into the woodwork, and I haven't located the worm hole yet."

"What the hell have you been doing? Don't you know that without Bates there's nothing to support that tramp's testimony?"

Barney did not answer immediately. He was looking at Vince Kane and again noted the change. It had been so sudden. Or had it? Perhaps it had been the opposite; so slow, so gradual, that Barney had not been able to notice it; not until now.

At any rate, Vince was a far cry from the dynamic, earnest young phenomenon who had rated the privilege of speaking before a college graduating class.

"Yes," Barney said. "I know that."

"You slipped up, Barney. You really fumbled the ball. You should have known you had to have Bates before the Brown girl was any good to you."

"I kept you briefed on the whole operation."

"But I was leaving it to you."

"I'll try to find Bates."

"See that you locate him. I'm due in there at any minute."

Barney looked at him curiously. "Are you afraid?"

Kane was wiping his face with a snowy handkerchief. "What the hell is there to be afraid of?"

"Nothing nothing at all," Barney said. "I'll go to work on the Bates thing again." He started away.

"Barney."

"Yes?"

Kane was nervously putting his handkerchief away. "What do you think that jerk'll ask me?"

"The only thing he can ask you now is about the shooting in your office."

"What'll I say. What do you think would be best?"

"Tell him it was all a mistake. A friend of yours was visiting you. He had a gun. He showed it to you. It went off. He got scared and ran."

"They'll ask the friend's name."

"It was Joe Whoozis. You haven't seen him since. He left town. He didn't leave a forwarding address."

"But-"

"They can't prove anything until they find Joe. If he doesn't exist they'll have a rough time locating him."

"They'll know I'm lying."

"Then tell them one of your policy-drop men got sore at you and pulled a gun. They'll believe that."

"You're kidding," Vince mumbled and turned abruptly and re-entered the waiting room.

Barney stared after him for a few moments. Then he hurried to the elevator and out of the building ...

"Did I do all right?" Flame asked.

"You did fine," Barney said.

He sat on the arm of the lounge in Flame's room and watched her pour a drink for him. He had no reason to be there. He was wasting good time. But he wanted to be there. He wanted to watch Flame as she crossed the room: to see the graceful movement of her legs and arms and her body; to remember the ecstatic electricity that their mating had generated. He wanted her again. He never wanted to lose her.

"You did fine," he repeated. "And I'm glad it wasn't as bad as we thought it would be."

"Mr. Hill was very nice."

"Mr. Hill is a mechanic, not a lawyer. That was the trouble. He wasn't up to asking embarrassing questions."

"I have to go before the jury again tomorrow. Mr. Gantry told me so. He's coming up this afternoon to brief me."

"He's a smart lawyer the best. You can't go wrong with him."

Flame brought the drink and pushed Barney down on the lounge as she handed it to him.

"You're starting pretty early, aren't you?" Flame smiled.

He felt a surge of annoyance, wishing he hadn't asked for the drink. Women! All they tried to do was run your life.

"I needed a quick one."

Flame dropped cross-legged at ms feet. She was so beautiful; so completely desirable. Not the least sign of her way of life was reflected anywhere.

It would come quickly, though, Barney thought. One of these days Flame would suddenly be old.

"Things are moving very fast," she said.

He was looking into her eyes, feeling the pull of her, noting the bright happiness with which she regarded him. He thrilled to the warm, trusting way she laid her head against his knee. There was nothing of the call girl in her at the moment.

Perhaps there never would be again.

Barney toyed with the thought. It fascinated and frightened him.

"Yes," he said. "Pretty fast. "The four goons who started this thing have been indicted already."

"They had a Legal Aid lawyer, I hear."

"Yes. They've been released on bail."

"What will they get?"

"It's hard to say. There were two counts of illegal entry the warehouse and the hotel. The hotel people are pushing hard, so I guess they'll have something added to the maximum rape penalty. They could get ten years."

"They deserve it."

"Yes, they deserve it."

Barney was having strange reactions. He felt empty and old, yet elated and young at the same time. It was weird; to be in love and dread it at the same time; to want a girl and have to sell yourself on the reality that taking her was suicide.

He finished his drink. "I'd better get along. There are things to do. I'll drop in again later."

She arose and slipped naturally and trustingly into his arms. And when he kissed her it seemed so right.

"See you," he said, and rushed away ...