Chapter 7
Carter Gantry had many negative qualities. He was a snob without the background that gave his snobbery the least vestige of authenticity. He was cutting, supercilious and he drank too much. But to offset these shortcomings, he had two virtues. He was an incredibly good lawyer, and he was not afraid of the devil himself. He demonstrated this last characteristic in an interview with Art Ringler.
"You're a menace to society, Ringler. A political boss with none of the good points of that breed and all the evil traits they've demonstrated from time immemorial."
Ringler glared and scowled and snorted. This was his own office where he wasn't used to being insulted. This louse had walked in like he owned the place and started throwing insults.
"Suppose you get the hell out of here before I have you thrown out."
"Don't be childish. I'm here as a friend."
"Fine friend!"
"The best friend in the world is one who points out your weaknesses. Your strong points take care of themselves."
"Well I got a weakness for you. You're a shyster lawyer living off a two-bit hood with a few numbers slots that thinks he owns the town."
"That may be true. Oddly enough, he says the same thing about you only slanted a little differently. He says you're a blackleg politician with a chain of dirty houses who thinks he owns the town."
"Ask Kane how he'd like to wake up and find himself lying in an alley somewhere with his "
"Childish," Gantry repeated. "Let's dwell on the more interesting aspects of this drama the part about owning the town. You both actually think you do own it. But in truth, neither of you do. The people own this town."
Ringler looked honestly amazed. "Are you kidding? Look, shyster. You aren't talking to some law school graduating class. This is Art Ringler behind this desk. The people are the suckers and you know it. They buy Kane's numbers ... "
"Some of them do."
"...and they get their kicks from my layouts."
"Some of them do that too. And therein lies both your mistake and Kane's. You look at these minorities and call them the people."
"What the hell else are they?" .
"We won't go into that. You mention and acknowledge your layouts. Then you acknowledge owning or controlling these brothels?"
This made Ringler laugh. "If we weren't in my office if we were some place else I'd get up and ram those words back down your throat. Bui there are no bugs here. None of this is being taped. So I'll let you get away with it."
"Thank you. But to get back to the people. You think of them as powerless because you control the district attorney. But did you ever hear of the grand jury?"
"The grand jury? You're barking up the wrong tree. I control Avery and he controls the grand jury. Even in your little walnut of a brain that should add up to one thing: Art Ringler controls the grand jury."
"Not necessarily," Gantry said cheerfully. "Have you got any idea of the power of a grand jury?"
Ringler lost some of his bluster and eyed Gantry warily. "You think I was born last week?"
"As a matter-of-fact, I have gotten that idea at times. But we'll assume it isn't true so far as your knowledge of grand juries is concerned. Have you checked on the one Avery, in pursuance of his duties as a district attorney, had sworn into session last week?"
Ringler stuck his fat lips out. "So what? If a grand jury don't go along with Avery, he has it dissolved."
"But what if it doesn't allow itself to be dissolved?"
"You talk like an idiot. The theory of the grand jury is great stuff for school books where they teach kids about what a great system we got. But any DA. worth his salt leads a grand jury foreman around by the nose."
Gantry was amused at the transparency Ringler revealed. He wondered for a moment how such a stupid man, one not even able to hide his sudden fears in a conversation, had been able to take such a grip on a vulnerable section of a great city.
Then he remembered. The votes. Ringler had a single talent that was enviable; the ability to make the voters go his way. He remembered also that people take favors from a stupid man as quickly as from a smart one.
But Gantry had easily discovered what he wanted to know; had done what he'd come to do. He'd learned that Ringler was unaware of a trap he'd already fallen into. And he'd had the personal satisfaction of acquainting Ringler with the trap and witnessing his fright.
Gantry got up from his chair. He gave Ringler a jaunty smile. "Well, that's fine. Tell Avery I wish him luck in his nose-leading."
He left with Ringler staring after him angrily ...
And at that precise moment, Colin Avery was having his first experience with a grand jury foreman who liked to have his nose left alone. This foreman's name was Wendell Hill, a rather aristocratic sounding name, it was true, but this was only one of the deceptive aspects of the new thorn in Avery's side. First off, Wendell Hill wasn't a banker as the name might have tended to indicate. He was a mechanic. Also, he was a small, sandy-haired,ingrown little man who looked as though the wind might blow him over.
But all this was a classic pattern in deception.
And Colin Avery was being apprised of his danger in this direction by an assistant who put through a frantic telephone call from the corridor outside the grand jury room.
"Yes, Degan?"
"It's Wendell Hill, Chief. He's."
"Who is Wendell Hill."
"The foreman of the blue-ribbon jury."
"What about him?"
"He read that thing about Beekman's son."
Colin Avery recalled that. A small matter. An alderman's son had gotten high and beaten up a news dealer. It had turned out that the news dealer had been blind, a point the boy overlooked. A snooping reporter hadn't overlooked the point, however, and it made quite a yarn. Nothing that wouldn't be forgotten overnight, though. An indignant statement about vicious youth in general: a promise to make an example of this one; public statements to that effect with the kid out on bail and the case finally lost in the legal push.
Thus did Art Ringler exact obligation from men such as aldermen men who could do favors in return.
But this grand jury business could be annoying. "The boy has been charged. What does Hill want?"
"He doesn't like the charge. Thinks it's too mild. He wants to talk to the boy and the complainant."
"Stall him off."
"This guy doesn't stall. He knows his rights as foreman."
Colin Avery pondered the problem. "All right. Coach the kid on what to say. It was a prank."
"And the old newsy?"
"Shut him up. Offer him a payoff."
"How high?"
"Go to a thousand if you have to. In the meantime, I'll talk to Judge Allen. We'll dissolve that jury."
"I don't think so. Hill's read the book. He's tough."
"I'll take care of it."
Avery put the phone down. He was no fool, and he was frightened. A runaway grand jury. God! That was all he needed at a time like this.
The Beekman case in itself wasn't important. They could throw the book at the kid if necessary. One of those things. Beekman couldn't blame Ringler for a flare-up of public sentiment.
The jury itself was the problem this Wendell Hill nut. If he snooped into one case, he could snoop into another. There were a lot of places he could go An obedient, disinterested grand jury was important in the structure Art Ringler ran.
Yes, that jury had to be forced out of business. And it had to be done quickly...
This decision on Avery's part, furnished the papers with a second story:
GRAND JURY FOREMAN BUCKS D. A. Wendell Hill Blasts Colin Avery's Attempt To Dissolve Grand Jury.
A rarity in this city, a citizen with knowledge of the law, is giving District Attorney Colin Avery a big headache. Early today, Avery went through the motions of dissolving the grand jury. But they were only motions. This was disclosed when Wendell Hill, the quiet, steely-willed foreman of the current grand jury refused to submit to Avery's dictum as manifested through Judge Thomas Allen's dismissal of the panel. It was nullified at Hill's request, on legally sound grounds, by Judge Henry Davis and it is authoritatively conceded that the Judge Davis writ will not be appealed; that such an appeal would be useless.
So we now have a grand jury with the bit firmly in its teeth, willing and able to move in any direction it chooses...
"You had something to do with that, didn't you, Barney?"
"Me?" Barney asked innocently. "Yes, you."
He looked at Barbara absent-mindedly. She sat on the arm of his chair in the apartment he'd moved her to; one in which any intruder would have had to get past a formidable doorman and two equally formidable elevator men in order to even approach her door.
"Oh, sure sure," he mumbled vaguely. Then: "What did you say, baby?"
"Barney! Where is your mind?"
He patted her knee, got up, and went to the phone. He dialed and then said, "Hello, Vince. Did you read the paper this morning?"
Barbara, even though she realized it was ill-mannered, followed him, pressed close, and put her ear beside his. She heard Vince's reply.
"Uh-huh. What did I miss?"
"The bit about the runaway grand jury."
"What about it?"
"Looks good to me. A break for us."
"Well of all the stupid ways to look at things. You're slipping, Barney. You're really slipping-
Barney covered the phone long enough to turn and whisper in Barbara's ear: "He's upset." Barney spoke with lazy self-satisfaction.
"Well, maybe "
"Good Lord! Now we've got a deal where some damned do-gooder citizens can rip me to pieces!"
"Real upset," Barney whispered. Then to Vince. "I was going to suggest that you turn those four kids loose. They aren't of any value to us any more. I mean "
"What in the hell are you talking about? Have you gone crazy? Do you want me to cut my own throat? I've got to keep them out of circulation until this dies down until maybe something swings my way."
"I think maybe they've already swung that way."
"How the hell can you say that?"
"I've got a pretty good reason. Sex is always more interesting than numbers. Numbers is what Ringler's got on you. Sex is what we've got on him."
"Will you tell me what you're talking about?"
"Ringler is going to be sued on some pretty spectacular charges by a girl. The grand jury's going to want to know all about it because the charges will be criminal. So will the reporters-want to know all about it. I mean. So will the public. I don't think there'll be any interest in numbers for a while. And
I don't think Ringler will be in the seat of the mighty long enough to bother you much."
There was a pause. Barney smiled and turned to kiss Barbara on the nose.
She wore a puzzled expression. "It all seems so childish," she said.
"What do you mean childish?" Barney whispered.
"I mean "
But Vince was talking again. There was fierce elation in his voice. "What a break! Who says my luck isn't holding?"
"Uh-huh."
"Look get rid of those punks. Throw them into the alley. We don't need them any more."
"I'd suggest we wait a couple of days. Until the charges are filed against Ringler."
"Of course. Certainly. I don't want you to go off halfcocked and goof this thing up. Use your head."
"Okay. I'll be in touch."
Barney hung up and turned to Barbara. "What did you mean childish?"
"Oh, I don't know. All this that's going on. The way Ringler acts and Vince and Avery. They're like a lot of children somehow, I can't quite explain what I mean."
"Adults are nothing but grownup children."
"All except you."
"What do you mean?"
"You make me so mad, Barney."
"I do?"
Barbara was wearing a pair of green lounging pajamas, and Barney appeared to notice them for the first time; the way they clung to her gorgeous thighs; the affectionate manner in which they hugged her breasts.
"Yes, you do! I think maybe you're the stupidest of the lot. Don't you realize that you're carrying Kane on your back? Don't you realize that if it wasn't for your brain, he'd "
"Wait a minute, honey. You're a little mixed up. The payoff in this world is on results, not on conversation. Vince is the guy who owns the Stardust Club. Vince is the one who's got the numbers' racket in his pocket."
"Stop talking like an idiot. What I'm saying is that it's because of you that he has these things. Ringler would have eaten him up long ago if it hadn't been for you."
Barney's eyes were on her. They were preoccupied with a frank appraisal of her breasts and her body. Again, it was as though he was seeing them for the first time.
"You're off your rocker," he said.
He made no attempt to hide his true point of interest; Barbara herself, and he gave every indication of not really hearing anything she said.
Barbara backed slowly away from him. "It's you, Barney. Without you, Kane would be nobody. Can't you understand that?"
He moved slowly toward her. "I think maybe you're a little bit prejudiced."
"That's not true."
"Maybe just a little?"
She'd backed halfway across the room, and their eyes were talking across the space between them. Talking a different language than the one coming from their lips. It was as though their eyes hadn't the least idea what their lips were talking about and didn't care.
"Barney all I want you to do is make something of yourself. You don't have to stand in Kane's shadow."
He was moving slowly but still faster than she was moving, and before she reached the wall he was standing close to her. His eyes looking deep into hers.
"Make something of myself?" He asked the question absently. "How?"
"I want you to write." Barbara struggled over that last word because she'd had to swallow suddenly.
"Write what?"
He was touching her now, and she raised her hands to fend him off but still did not back up to the wall. "Your novel ... "
The dam broke suddenly, and it was a mutual movement. In a sudden great need, he snatched at her, grabbed her as though he'd suddenly been seized with an urge to destroy her.
"Barney oh, darling..." She gasped, and that was all she was able to get out at the moment.
He hurled her to the floor and clawed her pajama bottoms down and tore them off of her savagely. She lay looking up at him, frozen, seemingly terrorized, but silent and waiting as he tore his own impeding clothing away and dropped his weight upon her.
He moved her thighs savagely, like a crazed animal, and when their naked flesh met, belly against belly, he demanded her so ruthlessly that Barbara cried out in pain and tears came to her eyes.
But even as she wept, she blindly sought his mouth with hers and hysterically ravened at it with her lips and her tongue to find more of him and devour it.
His breath, going down into her throat, was like an irregular blast from a furnace, and the frantic drive of his body at her was answered as she braced her heels against the floor and drove upward to meet him.
Now she was able to speak again. "Oh, God darling."
It was as though she feared he would vanish because as her eyes widened from the mounting ecstasy of her body, the delight he was creating within her, she cried, "Don't stop oh, don't stop please!"
He had no breath to answer her; scarcely enough to keep his lungs from bursting so great was the tax he put upon them.
Then Barbara stiffened and screamed and clawed at his back...
...And it was over.
They lay for a long time on the floor, coming down from the rainbow; recovering from an experience neither of them had ever had before.
Then the room reformed around them, and they were back in the world they had left.
Barbara moved first; she reached up and stroked Barney's hair.
His mouth formed into a grin.
"And now," he asked. "What were you saying about a novel?"