by Ed McBain
1. That the paint was a product of the Ford Motor Company.
2. That it was called Birch Gray by the firm.
3. That it was used on the company’s 1949 models.
4. That it had been dropped in 1950 in favor of a slightly different shade which the company called Dover Gray.
Sam Grossman studied the facts. He studied them with the coldly unemotional eye of a scientist. Looking over the figures, his blue eyes guileless behind their spectacles, his face bearing the craggy, homespun look of a New England farmer, he nodded his head gently. The suspect car was a gray 1949 Ford. There was nothing more to do but call the King house and present the facts. The other policemen would take it from there. Sam Grossman took off his glasses, closed his eyes, and rubbed at them with thumb and forefinger. Then he put the glasses on again and dialed the King estate.
* * * *
Meyer Meyer took the call in the living room. Douglas King, sitting in an easy chair near the fireplace, sat staring at the shifting flames while Meyer copied down the information the lab gave him. King showed no indication of listening to the call. The fire lighted the rugged planes of his face, glistened redly in the graying hair over his temples.
“I got it, Sam,” Meyer said. “That’s nice work. What?… Well, it doesn’t look so hot on this end, but now we’ve got something to look for… Yes, we’ll get it out right away. Thanks a lot, Sam.” He hung up and turned to King.
“A gray 1949 Ford. That’s what they were driving. I’d better find the lieutenant. He’ll want to check this against his list.” He studied King silently for a moment. Then he said, “Penny for your thoughts, Mr. King.”
“I’m not thinking anything worth while at the moment, Detective Meyer,” King said.
“Mmmm. Well, I’m going outside, see if I can rustle up the lieutenant. Yell if that phone rings.”
“I will,” King promised. Meyer put on his coat and left the room. King did not look up when the door eased shut. He kept staring into the flames as if his soul were there, as if he could read himself in the leaping reds and yellows. When Diane King came into the room, he still did not look up. She walked directly to him and stood before him, blocking his view of the flames.
“All right,” she said in a voice that was barely audible. “Pete told me.” She paused. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am serious, Diane.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I’m not paying. Start believing it, Diane. I’m not paying.”
“You have to pay.”
“I don’t have to do anything.”
“They asked you for the money.”
“Yes, a bunch of crooks asked. Why should they make the rules? Why should I play the game according to their rules?”
“Rules? Game? There’s a little boy involved here.”
“There’s a whole lot more than a little boy involved,” King said.
“There’s nothing more than a little boy involved,” Diane answered. “If you don’t pay them, they’ll kill him.”
“He may be dead already.”
“You can’t even consider that possibility.”
“Why can’t I? I can consider every damn aspect of this thing. I’ve been asked to pay five hundred thousand dollars for a boy who means absolutely nothing to me. I’ve got every right to weigh the possibilities. And one possibility is that he’s already dead.”
“They told you he was still alive. You know they did. You can’t excuse yourself by…”
“And another possibility is that they’ll kill him even if I do pay. Ask the police. Go ahead. See what they—”
“And if you don’t pay, they’ll most certainly kill him.”
“Not necessarily.”
King rose from his chair. He left the fire reluctantly, walking to the bar unit at the other end of the room. “Would you like a brandy?” he asked.
“No, I would not like a brandy.” She watched him as he poured. His hand was steady on the neck of the bottle. The amber fluid filled the brandy snifter. He recapped the bottle, walked back to the easy chair and gently rolled the glass in his big hands. She continued watching him, and finally she said, “Doug, you have no right to gamble with Jeffs life.”
“No? Who has a better right? Who’d they ask for the money? What is Reynolds doing to get his son back? He’s sitting on his behind, the way he’s sat all his life. Why should I have to pay for his son?”
“Doug, I’m trying very hard to keep from screaming. I’m trying with all my might to keep from screaming.”
“Go ahead and scream if it’ll make you feel any better. Actually, there’s nothing to scream about. I shouldn’t have been asked to pay, and I’m not paying, and that’s that. It’s a closed issue as far as I’m concerned.”
“But he’s a child! A child!”
“I don’t care what he is. He’s nothing of mine.” He paused as if searching for a clincher to his argument and then said, “I don’t even like him, do you know that?”
“He’s a child, damn you!”
“All right, he’s a child. What’s that got to do with it? Am I responsible for him? How is he my responsibility, child or adult, or creature from the depths? How the hell is he my responsibility?”
“They meant to take Bobby,” Diane said. “That’s what makes Jeff your respon—”
“Yes, but they didn’t take him, did they? They goofed. They took Jeff.” King paused. “Honey, when I was in the service and the guy standing next to me got killed, I didn’t feel responsible for his death. I was simply tickled to death the bullet hadn’t clipped me. I felt no guilt and no responsibility. I hadn’t fired the rifle that discharged the bullet that killed him. My hands were clean. And they’re clean now, too.”
“This is different,” Diane said. “You’re not so stupid that you can’t see this is different.”
“I’m not stupid at all. How in the hell can I give them all that money? Don’t you think I’d give it if I had it?”
“You have got it! Don’t lie to me, Doug. For God’s sake, don’t pretend.”
“I need every cent I have for this deal. Seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars. How can I give away two thirds of that? Don’t you understand?”
“Yes, I understand completely. A boy’s life against a business deal.”
“No! A boy’s life against my life!” King shouted.
“Doug, Doug, don’t insult my intelligence! This wouldn’t be the end for you. Don’t say your ‘life’ as if—”
“My life, my life!” King insisted. “Just that! Everything I’ve worked for since as long as I can remember. This business is a part of me, Diane, don’t you realize that?”
“The hell with the business,” she snapped. “I don’t care if you never own Granger Shoe! I simply don’t care. If you owned Granger, if you owned United States Steel and got them by letting a boy die…”
“It’s my life, my life!”
“And it’s his death! Your life against his death!”
“Don’t throw semantics at me,” King said angrily. He put his glass down on the coffee table and rose suddenly, beginning to pace the room. “It’s my death, too. What happens to me if I pay that ransom? I’ll tell you what happens. Benjamin and his goddamn vultures will team up with the Old Man and kick me into the street. You were worried about what I did to Robinson, about his ever getting a job again. Okay, do you know what they’ll do to me? My name’ll be mud in the industry. A power grab that failed! Do you think any other firm would trust me after that? Do you think I’d ever get this far again? I’d be finished, Diane. Finished!”
“You could start again. You could—”
“Where? Where do I start? And how far do I go? Goddamnit, even the office boys would watch me to make sure I never got too big again. I’d be chained to a desk. Is that what you want for me? Is that living?”
“Yes, it’s living. There are hundreds of men chained to—”
“Not me! Never.” He paused. “And what about yourself, Diane?
Think of yourself. All this would go.” He gestured wildly with his hands. “The house, the cars, the way we live, even the goddamn food we eat!”
“I’d choke!” Diane said. “If you let Jeff die, I’d choke with every bite I took.”
“Then who’s supposed to die? Me? Am I supposed to die for him? What is he to me?”
“He’s a human being, that’s all. Another human being. You used to care about…”
“All right, and I’m a human being, too. What the hell do I owe humanity, this great faceless mass named by the gentle spirits of our time? What has humanity, anonymous humanity, ever handed me? Nothing! I’ve clawed an existence for myself, clawed it out of solid rock until my hands are bleeding. How could you know, Diane, how could you possibly know? You were attending a private school while I was working my ass off in Granger’s stockroom. I’ve worked for this business all my life, don’t you see, all my life! And only because I could see into the future, the time when—”
“I don’t want to hear it. If you mention the business again, I’ll… I’ll punch you. I swear to God, I’ll punch you!”
“All right, forget the business. Just tell me why I should pay. How many people out there have more money than I’ll ever have. I’m poor, for God’s sake. By comparison, I’m poor. It’s taken me years to reach the point where I can afford this deal. There are people who make deals like this every day of the week, pick up a phone, close it by saying yes or no. Why haven’t we had munificent offers from some of them? Why don’t they pay the goddamn ransom?”
“That couple in Calm’s Point offered you a thousand dollars, Doug. And they’re probably poorer than you ever were.”
“Sure, a thousand dollars. What percentage of their life’s savings is that? How much have they got in the bank besides that? Have they got five thousand? Okay, let’s send them a return wire and ask for the entire sum, the entire five, not just the portion of it represented by the thousand they offered. Let’s tell them they have to give us their life savings or a boy will die. What plans have they made for that money, Diane? A down payment on a house in the country? A new car? A trip to Europe? What? Ask them to give up their plans and their dreams for a kid who means nothing to them. Go ahead, ask them. Ask anybody in the world! Ask all of your sweet loving humanity! Ask humanity to commit suicide for a brother!”
“You were asked,” Diane said. “You can’t pass the buck.”
“I know I was asked, and I’m saying it’s unfair. It’s idiotic! I’m saying nobody should be asked.”
Diane sat at his feet suddenly. She took his hands in her own and looked up into his face. “Look,” she said gently, “if… if Jeff were drowning and… and you were standing there on the shore… why, you’d automatically jump in after him, wouldn’t you? You’d save him. That’s all I’m asking of you now. Save him, Doug. Save him, please, please, pl—”
“But why me?” King said plaintively. “Because I took the trouble to learn how to swim? Why didn’t Reynolds learn to swim? Why should he come to me now and say, ‘Save my son! I never bothered to learn how to swim!’?”
“Are you blaming Reynolds for what happened?”
“Don’t be silly, how could I?”
“For what then? For being a chauffeur? For not having five hundred thousand dollars?”
“Okay, I have got five hundred thousand, and I didn’t get it by sitting around and watching the world go by. So where’s the justice? I’ve worked hard for everything I’ve ever—”
“Reynolds has worked hard, too!”
“Not hard enough, then! Not half as hard! If he had, I wouldn’t have to ransom his goddamn son! He’s a sitter, Diane. And the sitters all want something for nothing. The big jackpot! The big country of quiz programs that pay thousands of dollars for worthless information! Want a million dollars? Sure, go out and win it! Bull! Go out and work for it! Work like a bastard, until your fingers are—”
“Stop it, stop it,” she said.
“What is Reynolds saying to me? He’s saying, ‘Help me, I’m helpless.’ Well, I don’t want to help. I don’t want to help anybody but myself.”
“You don’t mean that,” Diane said, dropping his hands. “You can’t mean that.”
“I do mean it. Don’t you think I’m tired too, Diane? Don’t you think I’d like to sit?”
“I don’t know what to think. I don’t know anything about you any more.”
“You don’t have to know anything about me. I’m a man fighting for his life. That’s all you have to know.”
“And Jeffs life?” she asked, suddenly rising. “Do you want them to kill him?”
“Of course I don’t!” he shouted.
“Don’t yell at me, Doug! They will kill him. You know they will!”
“I don’t know they will! And it’s not my problem. He’s not mine. He’s not my son!”
“He’s there because of your son!” Diane shouted.
“I’m sorry about that, but it wasn’t my—”
“You’re not sorry! You don’t care what they do to him. Oh, my God, you don’t give a damn what happens to that—”
“That’s not true, Diane. You know I…“
“What’s happened to you, anyway?” she said. “What’s become of you? Where’s Douglas King?”
“I don’t know what you…”
“Maybe I shouldn’t have stood by watching all these years, never raising a finger. Yes, you clawed, oh God, how you clawed your way, but I told myself this was an admirable trait, a desirable trait. This was a man, I told myself, the man I love. Even when I realized what you were doing to people. I excused it, I said it was simply your way. I convinced myself that you weren’t cruel and ruthless and—”
“How does this make me ruthless? Isn’t self-preservation more important than—”
“Shut up and listen to me!” Diane said. “All those years, God, all those years and this was what you were becoming! This! I watched when you crushed Di Angelo to get the cutting-room-foreman job, and I watched while you smashed half a dozen men in that factory to get to the top, and I watched while you ruined Robinson, and I was ready to watch on this Boston thing, knowing you’d throw the Old Man, and Benjamin, and how many others into the street! With resignations, Doug? Would you have allowed them to resign? Oh, God!” She covered her face with her hands, unwilling to sob, unwilling to show any sign of weakness.
“This is a different thing entirely,” King said.
“No, this is the same damn thing! The same pattern! Over and over and over again. People just don’t mean anything to you any more, do they? You just don’t care about anything but yourself!”
“That isn’t true, Diane, and you know it. Haven’t I always given you whatever you wanted? Haven’t I been a good father to Bobby? A good husband to—”
“What have you ever given to me or Bobby? A roof? Food? Trinkets? What have you ever given of yourself, Doug? When have I ever meant more to you than your business? What am I now but a good bed companion?”
“Diane…”
“Admit it to yourself! You said the business was your life, and you meant it! Nothing else matters a damn to you! And now you’re ready to murder a boy! After all these years, you’ve arrived! You’re finally ready to murder an innocent little boy!”
“Murder, murder, you throw the word around as if—”
“It’s murder! Pure and simple! You can call it what you want, but it’s murder! You are about to commit a murder and, goddamnit, this time I won’t watch you do it!”
“What do you mean? What are you talking about?”
“I mean this, Doug. I mean you’ll pay those kidnapers.”
“No. I won’t, Diane. I can’t.”
“You can, Doug, and you will. Because you’re going to have to choose between your business and something besides Jeffs life.”
“What?”
“If you don’t pay them, Doug, I’m leaving.”
“Leav—”
“I’m taking Bobby and
I’m getting out of this house.”
“Now, come on, Diane, you don’t know what you’re saying. You’re…”
“I know exactly what I’m saying, Doug. Pay those men, because I don’t want to be anywhere near you if you don’t! I don’t want to be anywhere near something that’s turned rotten and filthy.”
“Diane…”
“Rotten and filthy,” she repeated. “Like one of the machines in your factory. A filth-clogged—”
“Honey, honey,” he said, and he reached out for her. “Can’t you—”