“Unless you can tell me what you want here,” he said, “I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to leave.”
The man was still smiling. “Well,” he said, “I’m not about to tell you what I want here, and I’m not about to leave, either.”
For a moment, Vollner was speechless. He glanced at the receptionist, and then turned back to the man. “In that case,” he said, “I’ll have to call the police.”
“You call the police, and you’ll be very sorry.”
“We’ll see about that,” Vollner said. He walked to the receptionist’s desk and said, “Miss Di Santo, will you get me the police, please?”
The man rose from the bench. He was taller than he had seemed while sitting, perhaps six feet two or three inches, with wide shoulders and enormous hands. He moved toward the desk and, still smiling, said, “Miss Di Santo, I wouldn’t pick up that phone if I was you.”
Miss Di Santo wet her lips and looked at Vollner.
“Call the police,” Vollner said.
“Miss Di Santo, if you so much as put your hand on that telephone, I’ll break your arm. I promise you that.”
Miss Di Santo hesitated. She looked again to Vollner, who frowned and then said, “Never mind, Miss Di Santo,” and without saying another word, walked to the entrance door and out into the corridor and toward the elevator. His anger kept building inside him all the way down to the lobby floor. He debated calling the police from a pay phone, and then decided he would do better to find a patrolman on the beat and bring him back upstairs personally. It was two o’clock, and the city streets were thronged with afternoon shoppers. He found a patrolman on the corner of Shepherd and Seventh, directing traffic. Vollner stepped out into the middle of the intersection and said, “Officer, I’d—”
“Hold it a minute, mister,” the patrolman said. He blew his whistle and waved at the oncoming automobiles. Then he turned to Vollner and said, “Now, what is it?”
“There’s a man up in my office, won’t tell us what his business is.”
“Yeah?” the patrolman said.
“Yes. He threatened me and my receptionist, and he won’t leave.”
“Yeah?” The patrolman kept looking at Vollner curiously, as though only hall believing him.
“Yes. I’d like you to come up and help me get him out of there.”
“You would, huh?”
“Yes.”
“And who’s gonna handle the traffic on this corner?” the patrolman said.
“This man is threatening us,” Vollner said. “Surely that’s more important than—”
“This is one of the biggest intersections in the city right here, and you want me to leave it.”
“Aren’t you supposed to—”
“Mister, don’t bug me, huh?” the patrolman said, and blew his whistle, and raised his hand, and then turned and signaled to the cars on his right.
“What’s your shield number?” Vollner said.
“Don’t bother reporting me,” the patrolman answered. “This is my post, and I’m not supposed to leave it. You want a cop, go use the telephone.”
“Thanks,” Vollner said tightly. “Thanks a lot.”
“Don’t mention it,” the patrolman said breezily, and looked up at the traffic light, and then blew his whistle again. Vollner walked back to the curb and was about to enter the cigar store on the corner, when he spotted a second policeman. Still fuming, he walked to him rapidly and said, “There’s a man up in my office who refuses to leave and who is threatening my staff. Now, just what the hell do you propose to do about it?”
The patrolman was startled by Vollner’s outburst. He was a new cop and a young cop, and he blinked his eyes and then immediately said, “Where’s your office, sir? I’ll go back there with you.”
“This way,” Vollner said, and they began walking toward the building. The patrolman introduced himself as Ronnie Fairchild. He seemed brisk and efficient until they entered the lobby, where he began to have his first qualms.
“Is the man armed?” he asked.
“I don’t think so,” Vollner said.
“Because if he is, maybe I ought to get some help.”
“I think you can handle it,” Vollner said.
“You think so?” Fairchild said dubiously, but Vollner had already led him into the elevator. They got out of the car on the tenth floor, and again Fairchild hesitated. “Maybe I ought to call this in,” he said. “After all…”
“By the time you call in, the man may kill someone,” Vollner suggested.
“Yeah, I suppose so,” Fairchild said hesitantly, thinking that if he didn’t call this in and ask for help, the person who got killed might very well be himself. He paused outside the door to Vollner’s office. “In there, huh?” he said.
“That’s right.”
“Well, okay, let’s go.”
They entered the office. Vollner walked directly to the man, who had taken his seat on the bench again, and said, “Here he is, Officer.”
Fairchild pulled back his shoulders. He walked to the bench. “All right, what’s the trouble here?” he asked.
“No trouble, Officer.”
“This man tells me you won’t leave his office.”
“That’s right. I came here to see a girl.”
“Oh,” Fairchild said, ready to leave at once now that he knew this was only a case of romance. “If that’s all…”
“What girl?” Vollner said.
“Cindy.”
“Get Cindy out here,” Vollner said to his receptionist, and she rose immediately and hurried down the corridor. “Why didn’t you tell me you were a friend of Cindy’s?”
“You didn’t ask me,” the man said.
“Listen, if this is just a private matter—”
“No, wait a minute,” Vollner said, putting his hand on Fairchild’s arm. “Cindy’ll be out here in a minute.”
“That’s good,” the man said. “Cindy’s the one I want to see.”
“Who are you?” Vollner asked.
“Well, who are you?”
“I’m Miles Vollner. Look, young man—”
“Nice meeting you, Mr. Vollner,” the man said, and smiled again.
“What’s your name?”
“I don’t think I’d like to tell you that.”
“Officer, ask him what his name is.”
“What’s your name, mister?” Fairchild said, and at that moment the receptionist came back, followed by a tall blond girl wearing a blue dress and high-heeled pumps. She stopped just alongside the receptionist’s desk and said, “Did you want me, Mr. Vollner?”
“Yes, Cindy. There’s a friend of yours here to see you.”
Cindy looked around the reception room. She was a strikingly pretty girl of twenty-two, full-breasted and wide-hipped, her blond hair cut casually close to her head, her eyes a cornflower blue that echoed the color of her dress. She studied Fairchild and then the man in gray. Puzzled, she turned again to Vollner.
“A friend of mine?” she asked.
“This man says he came here to see you.”
“Me?”
“He says he’s a friend of yours.”
Cindy looked at the man once more, and then shrugged. “I don’t know you,” she said.
“No, huh?”
“No.”
“That’s too bad.”
“Listen, what is this?” Fairchild said.
“You’re going to know me, baby,” the man said.
Cindy looked at him coldly, and said, “I doubt that very much,” and turned and started to walk away. The man came off the bench immediately, catching her by the arm.
“Just a second,” he said.
“Let go of me.”
“Honey, I’m never gonna let go of you.”
“Leave the girl alone,” Fairchild said.