“Fine,” Jack was saying. “Fine. So long, Turk.”
Jack put the receiver down and started to scribble on a pad. He tore the leaf off and gave it to Benny. “Here’s your receipt, kid. Boss says to give you the receipt.”
Benny took the paper and turned to go. He felt all right again. Why should Pendleton kick? He knew a good man when he saw him, and Benny had made sure that Pendleton noticed. He’d been making sure for years.
“One sec, kid.”
“You can stop calling me kid.”
“Pendleton wants to see you.”
Benny turned. “Pendleton?”
“Himself. Tonight.”
“Did he say-”
“All he said was tonight, kid.”
Benny used to see a lot of Pendleton, but that didn’t mean a thing. The job called for it. It was Mr. Pendleton then and it was Mr. Pendleton now.
He had an apartment on Sutton Place, where he spent most of his time. Benny sat in a gold-and-black anteroom waiting for the butler to come back and show him where to go. Through the archway with the columns he could see another room, a large one with a view. There was more black and gold.
“Mr. Pendleton is ready,” said the butler, and then Benny was in the dark library where Pendleton sat behind a desk.
It had been a while but Pendleton hadn’t changed. His bony face looked white and his mouth was a thin straight line. The close-set eyes were like flint.
“A little closer, Tapkow,” Pendleton said. He moved one narrow shoulder under his suit. He often did that. He did it in a quick, precise movement that was hard to catch.
Benny stood by the desk and waited.
“Did you get your receipt?” The voice was noncommittal. It was always noncommittal.
“Yes, sir. Right here.”
Pendleton looked at it, moving only his eyes.
“Why is it more than usual?”
“I collected it that way.”
“Why, may I ask?”
“Well, you see, Mr. Pendleton, when you gave me the territory I made a study of the place. I studied the way Paddy used to run it and how everything went Then I figured the territory could make more.”
“You figured?”
“Yes, sir. I figured it out.”
“Why?”
Benny hesitated for a moment because he didn’t understand. “To improve it,” he said finally. “I figured-”
“Tapkow,” said the voice, “I didn’t tell you to improve it.”
“You didn’t have to, Mr. Pendleton. I could tell-”
“How long have you been with us, Tapkow?”
“Seven years. You see, when I took over-”
“You took over?”
In the silence that followed, Pendleton never moved. Benny could see the space between Pendleton’s back and the chair and there was no movement one way or the other.
“What was your first job, Tapkow? Seven years ago?”
“Uh-messenger. Sort of a messenger.”
“And then?”
“Chauffeur.”
“And when you were my chauffeur you quickly adopted a number of additional duties. After that I sent you to Imports, and you were barely able to contain yourself there. Correct?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“And now you have Paddy’s job, correct?”
“Sure.”
Pendleton got up from his chair and looked down at Benny. “What, Tapkow, do you consider the real difference between being a chauffeur and running a territory?… Well, answer me!”
“There’s a hell of a difference. Look Mr. Pendleton, let me tell you what that district-”
“Let me tell you, Tapkow.” The voice was like a knife. “There is no difference, Tapkow. There is absolutely no difference, because I tell you where to go in both cases. I tell you what to do.”
“Now, listen, Mr. Pendleton, just wait a minute.”
There suddenly were two sharp lines running from the sides of Pendleton’s nose to the corners of his thin mouth. “Tapkow,” said the mouth, “you are shouting.”
Benny got confused. Had that old bastard forgotten that he wasn’t the chauffeur any more? Did Pendleton think he was talking to just another punk who ran errands? Or worse, this was the sack! The bastard was playing games and was going to give him the sack.
“And if the matter is quite clear to you, Tapkow, I give you this one opportunity to learn what I thought you knew. As of tonight you have your job back. Turk will show you the chauffeur’s uniform.”
“But-listen, the collections-”
“Tapkow. The jobs are the same. Or do you prefer none?”
This was it; or almost. He needed time to set things straight. Seven years of work…
“Yes-no, sir, Mr. Pendleton.”
Pendleton did the thing with his shoulder again and sat down behind his desk. “Turk will show you the uniform. I need you at nine,” and Benny Tapkow was dismissed.
Chapter Two
He did as a chauffeur should and drove in silence. Pendleton sat behind his glass partition in the dark.
They took the Henry Hudson Parkway north, and after the turn into the Cross County Parkway Pendleton used the speaking tube to give directions. When the headlights picked up the massive gate with the big A in the scrollwork, Benny guessed what the place was. He had never been there before and he had never met the man who owned it. But he knew him. Everybody did, one way or the other.
Big Al Alverato.
Nobody ever heard of Pendleton, because that’s the way he handled it. But not Alverato. Since the late twenties, the machine-gun parties, the big war in Chicago, the New York docks, all through until the present time there had been brash and loud Big Al Alverato.
The gate opened mechanically and Benny wound the car down a long drive with black woods on either side. When he swung up to the house and stopped under the pillared porte-cochere he still hadn’t seen a soul. No other cars, nobody. Benny opened the door for Pendleton and started back to his side of the car.
“You are coming along,” Pendleton said.
Benny rang the bell for him and then a light went on in the hall and the tall door opened.
“Hi,” the girl said. She was a redhead with a small pink face and eyes that looked like blue porcelain. She giggled and said, “Did you want to come in?”
“I have an appointment,” Pendleton said. He handed her his card, but she didn’t take it She looked at it, then at Pendleton, and giggled again.
“So come on in. I was just passing through the hall.”
“Will you tell Mr. Alverato that I am here?” Pendleton hadn’t moved.
“Whyn’t you come in? Look. See that door at the end, to the left? He’s in there, I think.” She raised her arm to point and Benny noticed how the dress stretched across her front. Then she turned and walked off with quick little steps. “Slam the door,” she called over her shoulder. “It sticks a little.”
The ugly lines had started to show around Pendleton’s mouth, but the hall was empty again.
“Well, Tapkow? Find someone!”
Benny moved. He knocked on the door in the back, and when it opened there was a small guy with a head like a bird’s. He took a look at the uniform and said, “Pendleton here already? You’re early.”
“Look, buster. Mr. Pendleton-”
“Bring him in. I’ll call Al.”
They waited in the room, Benny standing by the door and Pendleton stiff in a chair by the French doors. The mood in the room was like ice.
Then Alverato came, and they could hear his footsteps when he was still at the end of the hall. He threw the door open and said, “You’re early, Pendy.”
Pendleton’s shoulder twitched, but he didn’t say anything at all.
“Let’s have a drink first. Who’s this, your shofer?” Alverato turned to Benny and looked him up and down. Benny looked back at him. He saw why they called him Big Al. He was big and fleshy with success, and the eyes were deceptively lazy in his red face. Alverato’s bulk was half fat. The other half was muscle.
“Blow, James.” Alverato waved at the door.
“He stays,” Pendleton said.
Alverato, who was reaching for a bottle, stopped his hand in mid-air. “What you say, Pendy?”