He raised a quizzical eyebrow. “It’s that bad, eh?”
I held the door open for him. “Pretty rough,” I answered, following him into his office. “Our mutual friend has done a pretty good job up to now. He’s ahead on all score cards.”
He walked around behind his desk and sat down. I could see his fingers resting lightly on the polished wood of the desk. There was something almost loving in their touch.
“Hilde’s waiting in the station wagon downstairs,” he said. “I brought down a batch of my records on Brady and the Con Steel case with me. I thought they might come in handy.”
“Good,” I said. “We’ll send a boy down after them.”
A kind of disappointment flashed across his face. I caught on quickly. “Then I’ll call my garage and have them send a man around for the car,” I added. “That way she’ll have time to come up and see the office.”
I walked to the door. “I’ll give you time to get used to the place,” I said. “After lunch we’ll have a staff meeting and you’ll meet the gang. Then we’ll settle down and see where we go from here.”
He got up behind his desk. “Thanks, Brad,” he said earnestly. “I don’t know anything about this business but I hope I’ll be of help.”
“Just your being here is a help,” I said. “Not many guys would jump onto a sinking ship.”
27
I learned more about Con Steel that afternoon than I had learned in all the last few weeks. But there was nothing there that I could put a finger on. Matt Brady had been too smart.
It was almost seven o’clock when I leaned back in my chair wearily and rubbed my eyes. I pushed the stack of papers on my desk to one side and looked over at Bob. “I’ve had it, kid,” I said. “My head’s spinning. We better pick up in the morning.”
He looked at me, smiling. He seemed as fresh as when he came in that afternoon. I envied his youth. “Okay, Brad,” he said, getting to his feet.
The telephone rang and I picked it up automatically. “Yes.”
“Mr. Rowan?” The voice was female, questioning and vaguely familiar but I was too beat to place it.
“Speaking,” I answered.
“This is Sandra Wallace,” she said.
I forced a smile into my voice. “Sandy, it’s good to hear from you.”
She wasted no time. “I want to see you, Brad.”
I closed my eyes and leaned over the desk. This was no time for romance. I was too tired. Besides, if she didn’t know the score by now, the game wasn’t for her.
“I’m pretty jammed,” I said. “I can’t get down there just now.”
“I’m in the drugstore in your building,” she said.
I was beginning to sharpen up. This was no passion call. “Come on up then,” I said. “Don’t be so damned formal.”
I could hear her laugh as she hung up the phone. Bob was looking at me with a curious look in his eyes. I put down the telephone. “Maybe tomorrow will be better,” I said.
He didn’t answer, just nodded and started for the door. Halfway to it, he stopped and turned back to me.
“Yes, Bob?” I asked.
“Tell me if I’m out of line,” he said. “But there’s something I don’t get.”
“What?” I asked.
His face flushed. “This stuff in the papers about you and that Schuyler dame.”
He didn’t have to say any more. I knew what he meant. “I’m not trying to crawl, if that’s what you mean.” I got to my feet. “Elaine is an old friend. She’s on our side.”
“I suppose you know what you’re doing,” he said. I could tell from his voice that to him the story didn’t altogether make sense.
For the first time I began to feel that maybe it hadn’t been too good an idea. Marge and my old man might be prejudiced, but this guy had nothing to gain from what he said. It was a completely outside point of view. “I had to try something,” I said weakly.
His voice softened but didn’t altogether lose that quality of skepticism. “I met her several times in Washington. She’s one of the most attractive women I ever saw.”
The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. “She’s as good as she looks.”
A flash of understanding glowed for a moment in his eyes, then he quickly turned away. “I’ll see you in the morning, Brad,” he said, reaching for the door.
It opened before he could touch it. Sandra stood there. “Oh, I’m sorry!” she exclaimed. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“It’s okay, Sandy,” I said. “Come on in.”
“I was just leaving,” he explained. “Good night, Brad.” The door closed behind him as I came around the desk.
“Good to see you, Sandy,” I said, taking her hand.
She smiled. “You didn’t sound happy over the phone.”
“I was tired,” I said, steering her to a chair. “Your boss is doing a good job of kicking my teeth in.”
“My ex-boss, you mean,” she said. “I’m looking for that help you promised.”
I was surprised, and showed it. “You finally quit?”
“Tomorrow,” she answered. “He doesn’t know it yet.”
“What made you change your mind?” I asked. “I thought you could take it.”
“You did,” she said. Her eyes looked into mine. “I know I haven’t got the chance of a snowball in hell with you. But I can’t sit in that office all day and help him.”
It wasn’t often in my life that I felt humble. But I was humble before the honesty in her glance. “You’re very kind,” I said.
She got to her feet and came toward me, her eyes still on mine. “When I left you that morning I told myself that it was over, that there was nothing you had for me. You belonged somewhere else. But when the days went by and I saw what was happening, and knew each time he hurt you, I hurt with you, I made up my mind.”
I didn’t speak. She was very close to me now and I could sense the urgency in her body, the purely animal sexuality she had for me. I fought the drag and waited.
“You may have nothing for me, but I have a feeling about you. I’ve known enough men to know what I’m saying. No one ever made me feel the way you do; no one ever can.”
“You’re young,” I said huskily. “Some day a guy will show who’s just for you. Then I’ll be like nothing in his shadow.”
A faint smile crossed her lips. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
I turned and went back around my desk. I lit a cigarette. “You’re really leaving him?” I asked.
She was still watching me. She nodded. “This time I didn’t come to get laid. Believe me?”
I had no answer. I nodded.
She returned to her chair. “You said you would get me a job.”
I hesitated.
“Were you lying?” she asked quickly.
I shook my head. “I was a lot more cocky then. I didn’t know what Matt Brady could do.”
“Then you won’t help me?”
“I didn’t say that,” I protested. “I just don’t know whether I have enough friends left who will listen.”
“But you’ll try?” Her eyes were still on my face.
“I’ll try like crazy,” I said.
She got to her feet. “That’s all I ask,” she said. She looked at her watch. “There’s a plane back in an hour. I’ll just make it.”
I came around the desk. “You’ll call me Monday?”
“I’ll call you.” She held out her hand to me.
I took it and looked down at it. “Sandy,” I said. “I’m sorry if I’m not all the man you think I am. I didn’t mean to make promises I couldn’t keep.”
She forced a smile to her lips. “You’re enough man for me.”
I looked into her eyes. There was no deceit there. “Thanks, Sandy.”
Her lower lip trembled. I could feel the drag come back. This was the woman, the wanton savage woman of creation that all men had to possess since the beginning of time. I pulled her toward me, feeling
the crush of her breasts against mine. I kissed her.
She moaned softly as my lips hurt her. “Brad!” Her head drew back. She held my face close to her while her eyes searched mine silently.
“Sandy, I’m sorry,” I whispered.
Her lips parted as if she were about to speak. There was a sound behind us, then another voice.
“Brad, you’ve been working too hard, so I came down to get you!” The door finished its opening swing and Elaine stood there.
For a moment we were too startled to move, then Sandy’s arms dropped from around my neck.
The smile froze on Elaine’s face, then slowly disappeared as hurt crept up into her eyes. She stood very still and small in the doorway, her hand on the doorknob as if to hold herself erect. Her gaze went from me to Sandy and back. At last she spoke.
“Hello, Sandra.” I could hear her fighting to control her voice.
“Mrs. Schuyler,” Sandy said huskily.
There was a veil over Elaine’s eyes now that locked me out. “Maybe I was wrong, Brad,” she said, the hurt finally seeping through to her voice. “But I didn’t believe you when you said you were going to play all the angles. Now I know better!”
The door slammed and she was gone. Sandy and I stared at one another. It was as if a spell had broken. I ran to the door and opened it. The office was empty.
“Elaine!” I called and ran out into the corridor. I heard the click of the elevator doors. “Elaine!” I called again and ran toward them.
It was too late. The corridor was empty. I stared helplessly at the closed doors, then turned and slowly walked back into the office.
Sandra was standing there watching me. I walked past her and sank miserably into my chair. I dragged out a cigarette and fumbled for a match.
A lighter glowed in front of me. I looked up as I dragged on the butt.
“You love her very much, Brad,” she said.
I nodded.
She put the lighter back on the desk. “I could feel it even when you made love to me.” She walked to the door and opened it. “Good night, Brad,” she said.
“Good night,” I answered. The door closed and I didn’t look up. I leaned back in the chair and closed my eyes. I could still fell the pain that showed in Elaine’s eyes. Everything inside me hurt with her. Nothing was right. Nothing would ever be right again. Except Matt Brady.
He had won. I had no stomach left for the fight. I ground the cigarette out into the tray and looked around the office. It had been great while it lasted, but the party was over. There was nothing left to do but to pay the piper. Tomorrow I would close up the place and next week I would go out and look for a job.
I crossed the office, looking for a bottle. Might as well do things in style. The liquor was better off inside me than inside my creditors. I was just pouring myself a drink when there was a soft knock at the door.
“Still there, Brad?” Levi’s voice called.
“Come in, Bob,” I answered. I smiled bitterly to myself. Might as well face him now. It wouldn’t be any easier to tell him in the morning. He just had the shortest job on record.
There was a look of excitement on his face. He leaned over my desk. “What have you got to do with Matt Brady’s daughter?” he asked.
I stared up at him in bewilderment, the drink still in my hand. He was even more mixed up than I. “Mrs. Schuyler is Brady’s niece,” I said.
“I’m not talking about Mrs. Schuyler,” he said impatiently.
“Then who the hell are you talking about?” I asked.
My drink slopped all over the desk when I heard his answer. Some of it even ran down on my trousers but I didn’t give a damn. I’d just come back from the graveyard.
“Sandra Wallace,” he answered.
28
I should have figured something like that before, but my head wasn’t on straight. I was like the bookie who had gone legit after many years. It was a new kick and he never figured there was larceny in the business world. So he ran so straight that before he knew it he lost his stake and had to go back across the tracks. That was me.
I had been too impressed with the surface. These babies were no different from anybody else. They only buried their dirt deeper and you had to scratch harder to dig it up.
“Got the proof?” I asked, wiping the liquor off my trousers.
He shook his head. “I never really went after it. It was only an accident that I came across it, and it had nothing to do with the government’s case, so I left it alone.”
“It might have saved your job,” I said. I didn’t understand why he hadn’t used that dope before.
He looked at me steadily. “It wouldn’t have kept Hilde here.” He took out a cigarette. “Seeing her here in your office brought it all back. I thought maybe you found out too.”
“What about Sandy?” I asked. “Does she know?”
“No,” he answered. “Nobody knows expect her parents. As I understand it, her father is dead. It leaves only her mother to prove our story and I doubt that she’ll talk.”
I lit the cigarette he still held in his hand. I was wide awake now. The wheels were churning inside my head. I poured two drinks and held one toward him. “Let’s have the story from the beginning,” I told him.
He took the drink and settled in the chair across from me. “I was checking Con Steel’s common stock list. From 1912, when Matt Brady transferred some shares to his new bride, until 1925, he never sold or transferred another share. Only added to his holdings as he exercised various warrants or options. But in ’twenty-five he transferred five hundred shares to Joseph and Marta Wolenciwicz in trust for Alexandra Wolenciwicz. These shares were to be held in trust until his death; then they were to be turned over to Alexandra.”
He sipped at his drink. “At the time of transfer, those shares were worth around fifty thousand dollars. They’re worth twice that today, so naturally I was curious about it. It was the first time I had noticed Brady giving anything away. I did some checking.
“Sandra’s mother had been a maid in Brady’s home in Pittsburgh. From all I was able to find out she was a great deal like her daughter.” He smiled. “Or more properly, it’s the other way around. She was built, if you know what I mean.”
I nodded. I knew what he meant.
“Matt Brady was about fifty years old then. He had married late and almost before he had settled into it his wife was injured in an auto accident and became a permanent invalid. A woman like Marta could put quite a strain on a man, even one whose wife wasn’t sick. You can imagine what happened.”
His drink was about half gone. I made to refill it but he shook his head. “She had been working for Brady about three years when she suddenly left. Brady’s wife was surprised by the short notice but gave Marta a nice gift anyway.
“About three months later Joe Wolenciwicz came up to Matt Brady’s office, still in his work clothes. What the two men spoke about in that office I don’t know. They were old friends, having worked together in the foundries many years before. I do know that Joe left that office with Matt Brady’s personal check for five thousand dollars.
“He went from the office to his rooming house, where he changed into his only good suit. Then he went downtown to City Hall and met Marta. They were married that afternoon.
“Forty days later, Sandra was born. The very next day, Matt Brady transferred the stock.”
I sat quietly, staring into my glass. One thing about Brady. He wasn’t a piker about things. He was willing to pay for his ducal privileges. But it was more than that, really. In his own peculiar way he loved Sandra. She was his only issue. Now I understood why he wouldn’t let her out of his sight. Outside of business, it was perhaps the only reminder that he had been a man.
I poured out another shot and sipped it. The strange kicks that life would take. The same possessiveness that made Brady want to keep his daughter close made her hate him. I wondered if he knew how she felt—and if he did, if it would make any difference to him.<
br />
“Circumstantial evidence, as you lawyers would say,” I said.
“You get some mighty good cases that way,” he smiled.
My mind was made up. There was no other way. I had to try for the knockout punch. “How long would it take you to get copies of all the pertinent data?” I asked.
“A few hours,” he answered. “I have some of them. Those pertaining to the stock transfer. The other stuff I’d have to get in Pittsburgh.”
I walked across the room and put the bottle back in the liquor cabinet. “Get it,” I said. “I’ll meet you in Matt Brady’s office tomorrow afternoon at one o’clock.”
A strange look came into his face. He started to speak, but hesitated.
“What’s the matter?” I asked. “Afraid?”
He shook his head. “Not for me. I’ve already had it. But you?”
I stood silently for a minute. I knew what he meant. But there was no other way. Finally I smiled. “What’s the rap in Pennsylvania for blackmail?”
His face was straight as he answered. “I don’t know, offhand.”
“Check that too while you’re down there,” I said. “Might as well know what’ll happen if I lose.”
The desk clerk at the Towers smiled at me. “Good evening, Mr. Rowan.”
I looked at the clock on the wall behind him. It was after nine. “Would you check Mrs. Schuyler for me, please?”
“Certainly, Mr. Rowan.” He picked up the phone and spoke into it. After a few seconds he looked up. “She doesn’t answer, sir.” He looked in the rack behind him. There was a key there. He turned back to me. “She must have gone out before I came on.”
I nodded and held out my hand for the key. “She’ll probably be back any minute. I’ll wait for her.”
“It’s most irregular, sir.” He hesitated until he saw the bill in my hand, then his voice changed suddenly. “But I supposed it will be all right, seeing as how it’s you,” he wound up with a smile, exchanging the key for the fiver.
Harold Robbins Thriller Collection Page 16