Myerdahl stood solidly behind his men when they were doing honest work, and he couldn’t be intimidated by threats or pressure. Now he looked up at Carmody and took the pipe from his mouth. “I asked the lieutenant for an unfitness report on you this morning,” he said bluntly. “But I didn’t get it. Instead I got some excuses. Well, I don’t take excuses. I’ve got no use for wealthy cops. They’re in the wrong business. So you better find another one.”
Carmody’s expression remained impassive. “They should have tied a can to me years ago,” he said. “Was that all you had to say?”
“That’s all I got to say.”
“How about listening to me then?” Carmody said quietly. “I’ve got a case against Bill Ackerman. I want to give it to you.”
“Hah! You think I’d believe you?”
“Forget about me. Listen to the facts. Ackerman’s your target, isn’t he?”
“I’ll get him with men who aren’t carrying his money.”
“Now just a minute,” Powell said, cutting calmly through the tension. “I’m interested in Carmody’s information, Superintendent.” He came around Wilson’s desk, a tall, slender man who wore horn-rimmed glasses and conservative clothes. There was a scholarly, good-humored air about him, the intangible endowment of a good family, excellent schools and a background of noteworthy achievement in the law and politics. But his graceful manners camouflaged a shrewd and vigorous intelligence, as dozens of defense attorneys had learned to their clients’ dismay. Perching on the comer of Wilson’s desk, he smiled impersonally at Carmody. “In my job I’m forced to use instruments of dubious moral value,” he said. “I understand the superintendent’s position, but I can’t afford the philosophic luxury of observing absolute standards. Call it fighting fire with fire, or whatever you like. I don’t justify it or condemn it. It is a condition I accept. However, let me say this much, without any personal rancor, I don’t like using crooked cops. To me they’re a lost and frightening breed of men, and I would prefer to keep as far away from them as possible.” He studied Carmody’s hard impassive face, a curious frown gathering about his eyes. “You’re what some people call a smart operator, I suppose. I’ve known others like you, and I think I understand your reasoning processes. When you join the force it occurs to you in time that there is a way to make the job pay off more handsomely than the taxpayers intended. In short, to cheat, to trade on your position of public trust. What doesn’t occur to you is that the same course is open to every man in the department. They can cheat, or play it straight. Thank God, most of them play it straight. But you don’t give them credit for that. You see their honesty as stupidity, their integrity as a lack of nerve. This is why I find you rather frightening.” Powell shrugged and crossed his long legs. But he was still frowning thoughtfully at Carmody. “You rationalize your dishonesty with more of the same deadly cynicism,” he said slowly. “You say, ‘If I don’t take the graft then someone else will.’ This isn’t logic, of course, it’s merely an expression of your lack of faith. If you were logical you would test the proposition by being honest. Instead, you simply assume that everyone else is dishonest. You prejudge the world by yourself and steal with the comforting defense that you’re only beating the other crooks to it. The thing you—”
“That’s an excellent speech, sir,” Carmody said abruptly. “I’d like to hear the rest of it sometime. I mean that. But I want to talk now.”
Powell nodded. “Okay, Carmody. What have you to tell us?”
“A story about a man named Dobbs. A man Ackerman is afraid of.” He gave it to them in rapid detail, his trained mind presenting each fact in its damaging order. When he finished the attitude of the men facing him had changed; Wilson was grinning with excitement, Myerdahl had hunched forward to the edge of his chair and Powell was walking back and forth before the desk with a grim little look on his face. And the atmosphere of the room had changed, too; it was charged now with excitement and tension.
“Well,” Carmody said, “is it a case?”
“It may very well be,” Powell said. “It’s a logical inference that Dobbs took photographs of Ackerman participating in a robbery and murder. The robbery isn’t important, but the murder can still send him to the chair. And I’m quite sure that Dobbs has taken every precaution to make his case against Ackerman airtight. The pictures are probably in a vault, and his attorney probably has a letter instructing him to present them to the police in the event anything sudden and fatal happens to Dobbs. Ackerman must be efficiently trapped, or he wouldn’t have paid off all these years. He would simply have shot him. So our job is to find the pictures.”
“We can get them,” Myerdahl said, thumping the desk with his fist. “A court order can open vaults. And we’ll smoke out his lawyer. Or if the letter is with his family, we’ll drag them back and make them talk.”
“It will finish Ackerman,” Powell said, turning to Carmody. “But it doesn’t touch Beaumonte or the organization.”
“I can wrap them up for you,” Carmody said.
“How’s that?”
“I’ve got a witness they won’t like,” Carmody said. “A man who knows every name, every date and every pay-off connected with the city’s rackets. He’s been on Beaumonte’s payroll for six years and he’s willing to talk. Can you use him?”
“I most certainly can,” Powell said. “Who is he?”
“Me,” Carmody said quietly.
A silence grew and stretched in the smoky room. Wilson let out his breath slowly and Myerdahl rubbed his jaw and studied Carmody suspiciously. “Well,” Powell said at last. “You’ll be an almighty big help. But since there’s a good chance you’ll go to jail, why are you doing this?”
“I’m tired of that question,” Carmody said, shrugging his wide shoulders. “And what difference does it make? If we get a case, what else matters?”
“Several things,” Powell said, smiling slightly. “The most important thing, however, is to make men like you recognize the difference between right and wrong, to make you realize that you’re responsible for understanding the distinction. We can get Ackerman and Beaumonte a good deal easier than the border-line cases who support them by a cynical indifference to their moral obligations. That’s why I’m interested in your motive. Is it just a grudge? Or is it something a little different, a little better perhaps?”
Carmody was about to speak when the phone rang. Wilson picked it up and said, “Yes, go ahead.” He listened a moment, a slow frown spreading over his face, and then he nodded and said shortly, “Let me know the minute anything else comes in.” Replacing the phone he looked at Carmody. “That might be Nancy Drake, Mike. Radio has picked up a report from a New Jersey traffic car. They’ve got an accident a mile south of Exit 21 on the Turnpike. The victim fits the description of Nancy Drake. But the identification isn’t positive.”
“It’s positive,” Carmody said slowly. “They took her out and killed her. Because she gave me the lead that may hang them.” There was no anger in him, only a cold and terrible determination. He looked from Powell to Myerdahl, breathing slowly and deeply. “You two did all the talking so far,” he said. “Now listen: while you were talking they killed her like they’d swat a fly. Dobbs will be next, then me, then any other fool who gets in their way. They know they can get away with it because while their guns are banging you sit talking and drowning out the noise. There’s no case against them here, there’s nothing but talk. And I’m sick of it. You treated me like a leper because I wanted to help and I’m sick of that, too. Now I’m going to settle this without any more conversation.”
Carmody backed toward the door and Wilson said, “Don’t go off half-cocked, Mike.”