Braided Gold

by Glen Roylance

  “You talked about dirt,” said Scranton. “Any ideas where I might find some?”

  “Fairclough has a mistress, for starters. How’s that for a man who’s big on family values? She lives in the Huntington Beach area, but I don’t know her name.”

  “And I assume that the Mrs. doesn’t know about the other woman?”

  “Not yet!” said Paul.

  Scranton tilted his head and smiled wryly. “Yep,” he said, “it’s an old game, but it still works. Anything else you know about him that might get me started?”

  “Not really, but I’m guessing that there are many skeletons in his closet. Anybody who has been able to acquire that much wealth has probably gotten his hands dirty along the way.”

  “If there’s any dirt there I’ll find it, but I’m sure you know that this kind of information doesn’t come without a price tag. Investigations like this are pre-funded with a closing fee that accompanies my final report. That report will come with affidavits, photographs, wiretap recordings – all that’s necessary to give you what you want. If I run into things that are complicated, requiring travel or good old-fashioned bribery, expenses go up.”

  Yes, Scranton was both good and expensive. Paul listened carefully as this new ally laid out the necessary business arrangements. He took a checkbook from his jacket pocket. The information would be worth paying for, even if it did cost him dearly.

  The following two weeks brought many events together in swelling crescendo. Jerry Warren’s publication, “The Student Voice,” flooded the campus with venomous accusations against President Michaelson and the Board of Trustees. It also contained repeated threats of a student protest strike. One article, written by Jerry himself, carried a bold-faced paragraph that was particularly ominous in its tone:

  When the administration of a university becomes bigoted and oppressive to the point of overruling academic freedom, serious consequences are unavoidable. This newspaper supports the groundswell of student opinion calling for reprisals against the Administration at San Diego State.

  If you are not outraged at the travesty of injustice being perpetrated against Dr. Paul Kirkham, you should be. If you haven’t considered exercising your right to speak out against the establishment, you should. If you have never considered participating in a student demonstration, consider doing it now. SDS (Students for a Democratic Society) has declared its intent to organize student demonstrations that will escalate in intensity until charges against Dr. Kirkham are dropped. Some of us are willing to do whatever it takes to curb this misuse of administrative and political power. Certainly a call for a student strike and a closing of the University are among the options that must be seriously considered as students make their voices heard.

  Though less radical in its tone, the “Daily Aztec” also echoed student concern. Clearly Paul’s popularity would pit the Administration against the collective opinion of many students, especially those with a bent towards political activism. The presence of a student cause made them a potentially volatile force on campus. In some ways the free-floating discontent of these days and the generalized agitation over social issues was a powder keg awaiting a spark, any spark, to ignite it. Perceived administrative hypocrisy involving repressive action against a University professor espousing student causes was tailor-made to bring an explosive reaction among dissident students. Nor did the students stand alone. There were many among the University faculty who felt that the actions of the administration and the trustees were heavy handed.

  Within a few days student demonstrations commenced. They were small at first, involving noon rallies on the quad and student vigils, with signs and placards in front of the Administration Building. As the spirit of discontent caught on, however, it didn’t take long for these demonstrations to increase in size and bitter sentiment. Noon rallies swelled to involve several hundred students listening to fiery speeches blasted through megaphones and accompanied by student chants that could be heard across the campus, and still this was just the beginning.

  There was another development as Paul met with an attorney appointed by the AAUP and the two of them began hammering out a defense strategy. Mitch Poulas was an aggressive young lawyer, polished in his manner, and very articulate. There was no question that he was the right man for the job. Liberal in his own persuasions, Mitch had taken delight in representing the American Civil Liberties Union in other suits involving controversial issues. He had done well in establishing a reputation as a tough opponent in the courtroom. He and his partner maintained a small staff, doing most of their own investigation and research into legal precedence.

  Paul liked Mitch from the outset. He had done his homework before their initial meeting, having thoroughly familiarized himself with the complaints against Paul. He knew of the information the opposition had culled together from numerous interviews with both students and faculty who had agreed to testify in the hearings. These would testify of their own volition inasmuch as subpoenas were not used in these kinds of proceedings.

  Two of the witnesses had been casual friends of Jill and a third was Jill’s roommate in the sorority house where she had lived. Four students from Paul’s psychology classes had been slated as witnesses as well as two students who had been conspicuously involved in the Anti-ROTC demonstrations earlier in the spring. No one had approached Jerry Warren about testifying! Some of these witnesses had agreed to testify only after experiencing significant pressure from the University Administration.

  In one of their late-afternoon visits Paul and Mitch spoke freely with each other as they sat in Paul’s office, considering the pros and cons of their position. Mitch evidenced a thorough understanding of the procedures that would be followed in the hearings and spelled out exactly what it would take to remove a tenured professor from his place on the University faculty.

  “Unfortunately this is not like a jury trial,” he said. “Even though juries are swayed by personal feelings, good attorneys can push them to make their judgments from the vantage point of the law. It’s not an unusual thing for a jury member to vote contrary to his feelings because he feels obligated to uphold the law. It’s a little bit like the father who says, ‘Son, I hate to give you a licking, but I have to teach you a lesson.’ A good attorney tries to make the law work with him, whether he’s building a defense or trying for a conviction. What we have here is a jury composed of your peers, trying to decide if you’ve violated some code of conduct that really can’t be defined. The law is black and white, but who is to say what constitutes a violation of ethical and moral standards unless something illegal is involved?

  “What it will all come down to in the end is whether or not these people believe you are getting a raw deal. We can talk until we are blue in the face about academic freedom, and we will, but most of these people aren’t that concerned about philosophical ideals. Their decision will be based on whether or not they like you and feel you should be protected. The other issues will be secondary.

  “There are two wild cards we have to beware of, though. They are factors we’ll have to combat as best we can. The first is the question of who will be watching how these people vote and whether or not it will make a difference to their careers. The second is the question of whether any of these people have something against you personally and would like to use this as an opportunity to even the score.

  “I’ll argue issues in the hearings. I won’t have any trouble doing that, but more importantly, we’ll have to see to it that there is an outcry against this thing among the rest of the faculty and in the community. Our goal is to turn the hearings into a tinderbox and then bring the press in for a heyday. I’m going to push for open hearings with live media coverage. If issues are given the right shading, most people end up favoring the underdog. The press will love it and so will the public. Our job will be to mold public opinion and see to it that those opinions register.

  “Once the hearings are in full swing, I’ll see to it that those people who sit on the Board of In
quiry are flooded with letters. We need to make them worry about the consequences of coming down against you. We’ll just have to ‘up the ante’ in this poker game. To do that we’ll need to move it from the halls of academia into people’s living rooms – into their private lives. We’ll need to get as much publicity as we can and then control its flavor.”

  They discussed the campus demonstrations at some length. Mitch was generally pleased with the display of student support for Paul. “All of that will help immensely,” he said. “It will help set public opinion against the Administration, unless student radicals carry things too far. There is probably a point where student activism could have a boomerang effect upon public opinion. You’ll have to use your influence to keep that part of the equation under control if you can.”

  Paul was pleased at his attorney’s grasp of the situation and with his defense strategy. There was no question that they would work well together. But Paul did not speak of his relationship with Jerry Warren, nor the way in which student action was being orchestrated. He did not share Mitch’s concern about the possible downside of student demonstrations. As a matter of fact, he felt that there was a strong possibility that an intensely angry response from students might give the Administration, as well as the Trustees, compelling reasons to rethink what they were doing. A “best-case scenario,” so far as an ultimate outcome was concerned, would be the dropping of charges against Paul and suspending the investigation.

  But there was also the matter of “getting even.” Retaliation was every bit as important as vindication in Paul’s mind. For him there was a score that had to be settled with Eugene Michaelson and the Fairclough dynasty.

  “There’s one concern I might as well raise with you,” said Mitch. “It would be better to talk about it now than to have it come out of the woodwork later on. The counsel for the Trustees is going to make heavy inferences that you set up the Fairclough abortion. The Fairclough girl’s roommate will testify that there was an appointment with you to talk about her concerns. What do you want me to do with that?”

  “Deny it,” said Paul. “It’s an unfounded allegation.”

  “You never did visit with the girl?”

  “She may have planned to see me. She was one of my students and heard my lectures. There has never been any mystery regarding my position on abortion, but there was no appointment, nor did I have anything to do with the girl’s decision to contact a doctor. Had she visited with me I would have encouraged her to do what she felt she needed to do. My judgment is that an abortion was probably the only way for her to escape the condemnation of a puritanical family. Everything Julian Fairclough has said in public in his so-called crusade for home and family makes it obvious that a pregnancy out of wedlock would have been a devastating prospect for the girl.

  “What’s really important here is that Jill Fairclough had the kind of father that can instill enough raw guilt for a daughter to want to end her own life. I want that point made abundantly clear during these hearings.”

  Mitch smiled perceptively. “Do you think we can turn things upside down?”

  “Do what?” said Paul.

  “Put Fairclough on trial instead of you, and get a conviction.”

  “That’s just the way I want it.”

  During these days, the gulf between Paul and Claire widened. The Administration had granted her a month’s leave of absence, and she willingly spent her time at home with Michael. She and Paul had stopped exchanging phone calls and saw each other only when he stopped by to see Michael. But even on these occasions the communication lines were down and their relationship became reserved and formal.

  Michael’s headaches had become chronic, possibly in consequence of the testing he had undergone. There were but a few hours each day wherein he had respite from pain, and the medication kept him groggy most of the time. He did look forward to Paul’s visits, and during these times there was much talk of things they intended to do as soon as Michael recovered sufficiently, but both he and Paul had begun to wonder if their plans would ever materialize.

  The media began to focus on the crisis at San Diego State, and soon the television crews were there to capture a first-hand view of the angry marches and demonstrations. Paul’s prominence and the impending hearings gave the whole affair considerable national news value. Mitch nursed all of this along skillfully.

  And then, with some evidence of precise planning, there was strong talk of an impending student strike – not the innuendoes and threats that had characterized student demonstrations since the allegations against Paul had been made public, but a fervent call for student support of a general strike. The campus was to be shut down as a message to the Board of Trustees. There were bold headlines and extensive commentary in both the “Daily Aztec” and “The Student Voice.” Handbills appeared all over campus and marchers carried signs calling for a strike.

  The date set for this show of student solidarity was to be as a prelude to the scheduled hearing against Paul. There seemed to be little question in anyone’s mind that the planned strike was virtually an accomplished fact. It was assumed that those who were passive on the subject would ultimately be swept along with the momentum of things. Some faculty members had unofficially expressed their support of a strike, indicating to their students that no classes would be held that day. How long the strike would last and how effective it might be was certainly open to conjecture, but there was a general feeling among students and faculty that there would be a rough ride ahead.

  Paul avoided keeping regular office hours and was reluctant to rub shoulders with staff members in the Psychology Department, especially Leo. He felt intense pressure that kept him continually on edge. His classes were flooded with students, many who were not registered for the courses he was teaching. He had become a “bigger than life” campus celebrity as well as a genuine curiosity. His life was now animated by the grim spirit of defiance. This was dramatically apparent in his classroom presentations which, in most cases, departed significantly from specified curriculum in favor of the issues that were now at the center of his life.

  Some days later a call came from Scranton, who said he had struck gold. He and Paul agreed to meet at the same restaurant they had selected when Scranton came on board with Paul. The disheveled detective was waiting for Paul when he arrived and had already ordered something to eat.

  After the waitress took Paul’s order, Scranton opened a leather folder, removed a large manila envelope and handed it to Paul. “Good timing!” said Scranton. “Things clicked just right.”

  Paul opened the envelope and withdrew several large glossy photographs. The first was a picture of Fairclough and an attractive woman in her thirties, sitting at a casino poker table. The woman’s arm casually draped from Julian’s left shoulder as she leaned over him, looking at the cards he held in his hands. The second showed Julian and the young woman serving themselves at what appeared to be a hotel buffet. There were a couple of additional photographs showing the two in a playfully amorous mood in the booth of a cocktail lounge.

  “Looks like Las Vegas,” said Paul.

  “Las Vegas it is.”

  “They’re good,” said Paul, reinserting the pictures in the envelope. “How did you manage to get such classy shots?”

  “Isn’t that what you paid me to do?”

  “That’s right, and you didn’t come cheap, did you?”

  “I’ve had lots of experience over the years, but it boils down to a couple of fundamentals. First, you have to blend into the background and pretend that you belong where you are. And then you have to know how to use a good miniature camera and do it unobtrusively.

  “The girl’s name is Della – Della Flemming. They drove in separate cars to the Los Angeles Airport and boarded a Las Vegas flight together. Your man is very protective of his image. I won’t go into the details about what it took to get the woman’s name.”

  “So you followed them to Las Vegas?”

  “On the next flight.”<
br />
  “How did you know where to find them?”

  “Just a few phone calls asking for a certain guest. A man like our Julian stays only in the best hotels. The list wasn’t too long.”

  Paul leaned back with satisfaction on his face as the waitress brought Scranton’s food. As on the earlier occasion when the two ate together, Scranton’s table manners matched his slovenly appearance.

  “There’s more,” Scranton said between mouthfuls.

  “And?” said Paul with anticipation.

  Scranton let Paul wait as he savored the steak he was eating. It was a large meal for midday. “Your man is plenty dirty. You said you wanted enough to make him crawl. Well, that’s what I have if you want it.”

  “That’s what I want.”

  “There’ll be some additional charges,” said Scranton without looking up from his food. “This part wasn’t easy.”

  “Let’s see what you’ve got,” said Paul impatiently.

  Scranton shook his head without looking up. “No, I don’t do business that way.”

  Paul resented Scranton’s cat and mouse approach to things, but quickly decided not to take issue with him. After all, he had anticipated a final payment of some kind, and the detective did hold all the important cards. Moreover, Paul had little reason to doubt that the forthcoming information would be of great value to him. He acquiesced, unable to hide his surprise at the size of the amount required to settle with Scranton.

  By the time the waitress brought Paul’s order, Scranton had pushed his plate to the side and took a second envelope from his folder – the prize! He laid the envelope on the table and began a complicated explanation.

  “Fairclough’s amorous getaway was a three-day affair,” said Scranton. “I placed a phone call to the hotel concierge indicating I had a business delivery for Fairclough and needed to know how many days he would be at the hotel. When they gave me his checkout date I decided to make use of the vacancy in Della’s home. I was just following a hunch, and it turned out to be a good one. By the time I located her address and got to her home it was the following evening. I let myself in and went to work – no evil intentions mind you, just curiosity.