“And what is the favor?” The question was finally asked in that same soft, yet powerful voice. It was really the voice of a saint, the voice seemed to give off a spiritual serenity. Cully was impressed and for the first time a little worried. Maybe this wouldn’t work.
Cully said, “Your son, Paul. He gave testimony against my friend Merlyn. You remember Merlyn. You promised to make him happy for the rest of his life.” And Cully let the steel come into his voice. He was annoyed by the power given off by this man. A power born of his tremendous success with money, the rise from poverty to millions in an adverse world, from the victorious wars of his life while carrying a foolish brother.
But Eli Hemsi did not rise to the bait of this ironic reproach. He did not even smile. He was still listening.
“Your son’s testimony is the only evidence against Merlyn. Sure I understand, Paul was frightened.” Suddenly there was a dangerous flicker in those dark eyes watching him. Anger at this stranger knowing his son’s first name and using it so familiarly and almost contemptuously. Cully gave back a sweet smile. “A very nice boy you have, Mr. Hemsi. Everybody is certain he was tricked, threatened, to make his statement to the FBI. I've consulted some very good lawyers. They say he can back off in the grand jury room, give his testimony in such a way so that he will not convince the jury and still not get in trouble with the FBI. Maybe he can re-tract the testimony altogether.” He studied the face opposite him. There was nothing to read. “I assume your son has immunity,” Cully said. “He won’t be prosecuted. I also understand you probably have it arranged so he won’t have to do his Army duty. He’ll come out of it a hundred percent OK. I figure you have that all set. But if he does this favor, I promise you nothing will change.”
Eli Hemsi spoke now in a different voice. It was stronger, not so soft, yet persuasive, a salesman selling. “I wish I could do that,” he said. ‘That boy, Merlyn, he’s a very nice boy. He helped me, I will be grateful to him forever.” Cully noted that here was a man who used the word “forever” pretty often. No halfway gestures for him. He had promised Merlyn he would make him happy for the rest of his life. Now he was going to be grateful forever. A real fucking claim agent weaseling out of his obligations. For the second time Cully felt some anger that this guy was treating Merlyn like such a schmuck. But he continued to listen with an agreeable smile on his face.
“There is nothing I can do,” Hemsi said. “I can’t endanger my son. My wife would never forgive me. He is her whole life to her. My brother is a grown man. Who can help him? Who can guide him, who can make his life now? But my son has to be cared for. He is my first concern. Afterward, believe me, I will do anything for Mr. Merlyn. Ten, twenty, thirty years from now I will never forget him. Then, when this is all over, you can ask me anything.” Mr. Hemsi rose from his desk and put out his hand, his powerful frame bent over with grateful solicitousness. “I wish my son had a friend like you.”
Cully grinned at him, shook his hand. “I don’t know your son, but your brother is my friend. He’s coming out to visit me in Vegas at the end of the month. But don’t worry, I’ll take care of him. I’ll keep him out of trouble.” He saw the pondering look on Eli Hemsi’s face. He might as well sock it to him all the way.
“Since you can’t help me,” Cully said, “I have to get Merlyn a really good lawyer. Now the district attorney has probably told you that Merlyn will plead guilty and get a suspended sentence. And everything will blow away so that your son not only will get immunity but will never have to go back into the Army. That may be. But Merlyn will not plead guilty. There wile be a trial. Your son will have to appear in an open court. Your son will have to testify. There will be a lot of publicity. I know that won’t bother you, but the newspapers will get to know where your son, Paul, is and what he is doing. I don’t care who promised you what. Your son will have to go into the Army. The newspapers will just put on too much pressure. And then, besides all that, you and your son will have enemies. To use your phrase, ‘I’ll make you unhappy for the rest of your life.’”
Now that the threat was out in the open Hemsi leaned back in the chair and stared at Cully. His face, heavy and cragged, was more sad in its somberness than angry. So Cully gave it to him again. “You have connections. Call them and listen to their advice. Ask about me. Tell them I work for Gronevelt at the Xanadu Hotel. If they agree with you and call Gronevelt, there is nothing I can do. But you’ll be in their debt.”
Hemsi leaned back in his chair. “You say everything will come out right if my son does what you ask?”
“I guarantee it,” Cully said.
“He won’t have to go back into the Army?” Hemsi asked again.
“I guarantee that too,” Cully said. “I have friends in Washington, as you have. But my friends can do things your friends can’t do, even if only because they can’t be connected to you.”
Eli Hemsi was ushering Cully to the door. “Thank you,” he said. “Thank you very much. I have to think over everything you said. I’ll be in touch with you.”
They shook hands again as he walked Cully to the door of his suite. “I’m at the Plaza,” Cully said. “And I’m leaving for Vegas tomorrow morning. So if you could call me tonight, I’d be grateful.”
But it was Charlie Hemsi who called him. Charlie was drunk and gleeful. “Cully, you smart little bastard. I don’t know how you did it, but my brother told me to tell you that everything is OK. He agrees with you completely.”
Cully relaxed. Eli Hemsi had made his phone calls to check him out. And Gronevelt must have backed the play. He felt an enormous affection and gratitude for Gronevelt. He said to Charlie, “That’s great. See you in Vegas at the end of the month. You’ll have the time of your life.”
“I wouldn’t miss it,” Charlie Hemsi said. “And don’t forget that dancer.”
“I won’t,” Cully said.
After that he dressed and went out for dinner. In the restaurant lobby he used the pay phone to call Merlyn. “Everything is OK, it was all a misunderstanding. You’re going to be all right.”
Merlyn’s voice seemed faraway, almost abstracted and not as grateful as Cully would have liked it to be. “Thanks,” Merlyn said. “See you in Vegas soon.” And he hung up.
Chapter 22
Cully Cross squared everything for me, but poor patriotic Frank Alcore was indicted, released from active duty to civilian status, tried and convicted. A year in prison. A week later the major called me into his office. He wasn’t mad at me or indignant; in fact, he had an amused smile on his face.
“I don’t know how you did it, Merlyn,” he told me. “But you beat the rap. Congratulations. And I don’t give a shit, the whole business is a fucking joke. They should have put those kids in jail. I’m glad for you, but I’ve got my orders to handle this business and make sure it doesn’t happen again. Now I’m talking to you as a friend. I’m not pressing. My advice is, resign from the government service. Right away.”
I was shocked and a little sick. I thought I was home free and here I was out of a job. How the hell would I meet all my bills? How would I support my wife and kids? How would I pay the mortgage on the new house on Long Island I would be moving into in just a few months?
I tried to keep a poker face when I said, “The grand jury cleared me. Why do I have to quit?”