"I'm glad to hear it," Pritchett acknowledged, "and the Sequoia Club, of course, shares that view. By the way, I presume everyone saw the report, in today's Chronicle-West, of more bombings at GSP & L."
The others nodded. The report had described havoc at a GSP & L truck depot where more than two dozen vehicles were damaged or destroyed during the night-the result of a fire started by a bomb. Several days earlier a substation had been bombed, though damage was slight. In both instances the underground Friends of Freedom had claimed responsibility.
"Are there more questions for Mr. Birdsong?" Laura Bo Carmichael asked.
There were several. They concerned the tactics to be employed against GSP & L-"continual harassment on a broad public information front" was how Birdsong put it-and the use to which the Sequoia Club's money would be put.
At one point Roderick Pritchett ruminated aloud, "I'm not sure it would be to our advantage to insist on a detailed accounting, but naturally we would require proof that our money was expended effectively."
"Your proof would be in results," Birdsong answered.
It was conceded that certain matters would have to be taken on trust. At length Laura Bo Carmichael announced, "Mr. Birdsong, I'll ask you to leave us now so that the rest of us can discuss your proposal privately. One way or the other, we will be in touch with you soon."
Davey Birdsong stood, beaming, his big body towering over the others.
"Well, cobbers all, it's been a privilege and pleasure. For now so long!”
As he went out there was an awareness that he had slipped like putting on a garment-into his bluff public role. When the boardroom door had closed behind Birdsong, Mrs. Quinn spoke first and firmly. "I don't like any of it. I dislike the man and all my instincts are against trusting him. I'm totally opposed to any linkage with his group."
"I'm sorry to hear that," Irwin Saunders said, "because I believe his diversionary tactics are exactly what we need to beat these new GSP & L proposals, which is the important thing."
"I must say, Mrs. Quinn," Pritchett remarked, "I agree with Irwin's view."
Priscilla Quinn shook her head decisively. "Nothing any of you say will make me change my mind."
The lawyer sighed. "Priscilla, you're being altogether too prim and proper."
"Possibly that's true." Mrs. Quinn's face flushed red. "But I also have principles, something that disgusting man appears to lack."
Laura Bo said sharply, "No acrimony among ourselves, please!"
Pritchett injected smoothly, "May I remind everyone that this committee has authority to make a binding decision and, if it so decides, to expend the amount of money we've discussed."
"Madam Chairman," Saunders said, "the way I count the voting so far is two in favor, one against, which leaves the swing vote up to you."
"Yes," Laura Bo acknowledged, "I realize that, and I'll admit to some ambivalence."
"In that case," Saunders said, "let me state some reasons why I think you should come to my view, and Roderick's."
"And when you've finished," Priscilla Quinn told him, "I'll argue the opposite."
For another twenty minutes the debate went back and forth.
Laura Bo Carmichael listened, making a contribution here and there, at the same time weighing mentally the way her vote should go. If she opposed co-operating with Birdsong there would be a 2-2 stalemate which would have the same effect as outright rejection. If she voted "for," it would be a decisive 3-1-Her inclination was to cast a "no." While seeing merit in Saunders' and Pritchett's pragmatism, Laura Bo's instincts about Davey Birdsong paralleled Priscilla Quinn's. The trouble was, she didn't particularly want to be linked with Priscilla Quinn-an undoubted snob, a society ill do-gooder forever in the social columns, married to old California money, and thus representing many things which Laura Bo abhorred.
Something else she was aware of: If she sided with Priscilla against the other two it would be a clear case of the women versus the men. Never mind that Laura Bo would not intend it that way and was capable of judging any issue irrespective of her sex, that was the way it would look. She could imagine Irwin Saunders, a male chauvinist, thinking: the damn women stuck together, even if not saying it aloud. Saunders had not been one of Laura Bo's supporters when she was a candidate for the Sequoia Club chairmanship; he had backed a male contender. Now Laura Bo, as the first woman to assume the club's highest office, wanted to show that she could fill that post as well and impartially as any man, perhaps a good deal better.
And yet . . . There was still her instinct that the Birdsong connection would be wrong.
"We're going in circles," Saunders said. "I suggest we take a final vote."
Priscilla Quinn asserted, "My vote remains 'no."'
Saunders growled, "Strongly-'yes."'
"Forgive me, Mrs. Quinn," Pritchett said. "I vote 'yes."'
The eyes of the other three were focused on Laura Bo. She besitited, reviewing once more the implications and her doubts. Then she said decisively, "I will vote 'yes."'
"That does it!" Irwin Saunders said. He rubbed his bands together.
"Priscilla, why not be a good loser? join the rest of us and make it unanimous."
Tight-lipped, Mrs. Quinn shook her head negatively. "I think you will all regret that vote. I wish my dissent to be recorded."
2
While the Sequoia Club committee continued its discussion in his absence, Davey Birdsong left the club's headquarters building humming a jaunty tune. He had not the least doubt what the outcome would be. The Quinn woman, be knew, would be against him; he was equally sure the other three-for individual reasons-would see the situation his way. The fifty thousand smackeroos was in the bag.
He retrieved his car-a beat-up Chevrolet-from a nearby parking lot and drove through the city's center, then southeast for several miles. He stopped on a nondescript street where he had never been before but which was the sort of location where he could leave the car for several hours without its attracting attention. Birdsong locked the car, memorized the street name, then walked several blocks to a busier thoroughfare where, he had observed en route, several bus lines operated. He took the first westhound bus which came along.
On the way from the car he had donned a hat which he normally never wore and also put on horn-rimmed glasses which he didn't need. The two additions changed his appearance surprisingly, so that anyone used to seeing him on TV or elsewhere would almost certainly fail to recognize him now.
After riding the bus for ten minutes, Birdsong got off and bailed a cruising taxi which he directed to drive northward. Several times be glanced through the taxi's rear window, inspecting other traffic following. The inspections seemed to satisfy him and he ordered the taxi to stop and paid it off. A few minutes later he boarded another bus, this time going east. By now his journey since parking the car had assumed the approximate shape of a square.
As he left the second bus, Birdsong inspected the other passengers getting off, then began walking briskly, turning several corners and glancing back each time. After about five minutes of walking he stopped at a small row house, then ascended a half-dozen steps to a recessed front door. He depressed a bell push and stood where he could be seen from the other side of the door through a tiny one-way peephole. Almost at once the door opened and he went inside.
In the small dark hallway of the Friends of Freedom hideaway Georgos Archambault asked, "Were you careful in coming here?"
Birdsong growled, "Of course I was careful. I always am." He said accusingly, "You botched the substation job."