"Well, you heard it now," the Mayor said. "Mr. Ness is a former G-man, who wouldn't have it any other way. Now, if you'll excuse me, gentlemen."
"Excuse me, Your Honor," Wild said, standing so that he blocked the mayor's way back to his office. Borderline rude but ballsy, Ness thought. "Are you sure this G-man stuff isn't just a ploy to squeeze some budget dough out of your upside-down cake of a city council?"
"As I recall, Mr. Wild," Burton shot back with a nasty little smile, "you yourself were one of those who suggested Mr. Ness as a possible candidate for this job."
And Burton brushed past Wild and ducked into his office.
That, of course, hadn't really been an answer to Wild's question, but Burton-brains, guts, integrity or not-was still a politician. He knew all about answering questions without answering them.
Ness quickly exited the mayor's outer office, and was soon out on the balcony beyond which the City Hall atrium rose. Quick footsteps on the marble floor and overlapping voices echoed.
Finally Ness stopped in his tracks, turned to the gentlemen of the press who followed him in a pack, and said, "I'm on my way to my office at the Standard Building. I hope, if my staff hasn't gone home for the day, to say some goodbyes, and clean out my desk and generally take care of personal matters."
"And you don't want us tagging along," Wild said.
"Right."
"Then how about a statement?"
"I just landed this job, boys. I haven't had a whole hell of a lot of time to reflect."
Lawrence pushed his glasses up on his nose and said, "Are you kidding? You didn't have wind of this? It's been in the air all week."
"I don't have any political contacts, fellas. Nobody told me, 'cause there was nobody to tell me."
"A statement, Mr. Ness," Fritchey said.
"Let's just say my first duty is one of fact-finding. After that I don't know what I'll do, but I hope to take action first and talk about it later."
" 'Action first, then talk,' " Wild echoed, smiling a little, scribbling. "That'll do. That and bein' your own chief investigator. See you tomorrow, kid."
And the rest of the reporters had followed Wild's lead, leaving Ness alone to exit the massive City Hall and walk through the cold night-like afternoon, to his old office where Doris and other staffers waited with flowers and a resignation to sign.
"Some of them won't miss me," he said.
"What?" Eva said.
They were sitting together in the warmth of the fire, naked, his arm around her shoulder, snuggling her to him.
"I'm not popular with everybody on the Alcohol Tax Unit," he said. "Hedges, for one, will be glad to see me go."
"I'm sure he's just jealous."
"I don't think so. Just a clash of styles. Hedges is a good cop, but he's an old-fashioned one. He doesn't understand police science. All he knows is the third degree and stool pigeons and stakeouts."
"I'm so glad you're out of that awful, dangerous sort of thing."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, you're the safety director. You're an executive, now."
"I suppose I am."
She gestured with both hands. "That's where you've been heading, isn't it? You didn't go to college to be a policeman. You studied to make something of yourself, and you have."
"Well, thanks, honey."
"I'm so proud of you. So very proud of you."
She hugged him. Her flesh seemed cool and warm at once.
He said, "To be honest, baby, it's still going to be dangerous."
Her eyes grew as round as a silent movie queen's. "Why would it be dangerous?"
For a moment he considered telling her about Burton's "ticking clock." About the possibly suicidal career risk he was taking.
Instead he said only, "I'm up against a very crooked police force. I was hired to clean it up. That's not going to make me popular."
"I see."
"We'll have plenty of protection. You needn't worry."
She said nothing. She was looking at the dwindling fire.
"Really, sugar. There's nothing to worry about."
"Good."
"Of course we'll need to move into the city."
Disappointment painted her face. "Move? From here? But I love it here-my garden, swimming…"
He smiled, gently. "You're not going to be doing any gardening or swimming in this weather, now, are you? We don't have to sell the place. We don't even have to rent it out, if you don't want to. We can spend weekends here, particularly when the weather's nicer."
"How can we afford that?"
"The mayor as much as promised us an apartment, as a fringe benefit."
"No rent, you mean?"
"No rent."
She shrugged. "Well, I suppose it's best. We are awfully far from the city."
"I knew you'd see it when you thought about it for a minute."
Eva smiled bravely. "Can't expect to make a step forward like this, without some sacrifices."
"That's right."
"You will be on a more regular schedule than you've been?"
"Honey, uh, this won't be a nine-to-five job. It's going to require long hours."
She looked at him for several moments. Then she nodded.
"It's a big job," he said. "You got to stand by me on this. Things'll settle down, after the first few months."
She nodded again. Their gray cat, Big Al, hopped up on the couch and Eva scratched the animal's neck.
"You don't know the best part. The Mayor said I don't have to ride a desk all day long. He's given me a 'completely free hand,' as he puts it."
"What does that mean?"
"Well, I'll be my own chief investigator. I can get out in the field. I won't just be bogged down with boring administrative duties all day."
"I–I see." The cat was purring under Eva's touch. But Eva wasn't purring.
"Honey, are you all right?"
"I'm fine, Eliot. Why, uh, are you doing that?"
"Doing what?"
"Your own investigating. That doesn't sound like something… an executive does. Do public safety directors do that?"
He grinned. "It's unheard of, or anyway that's what the reporters say. But I like investigating. Your husband's a detective, honey. You wouldn't take that away from him, would you?"
"No. Of course not."
"Besides, who can I trust but myself, to look into this damn thing? I can't ask the cops to help. It's the cops I'm investigating!"
"I understand."
"I knew you would."
Eva gathered her clothes. She didn't get into them, but she held them before her modestly. The cat hopped off the couch and disappeared into the darkness. "Are you coming up to bed?"
"Not just yet. I have to look over some material the mayor sent home with me."
"Will you be long?"
"No. An hour. Or two."
She smiled tightly. "Good night, Eliot."
"Good night, honey."
She walked away. He watched her go, admiring her sweet plump rear as she went. She hadn't kissed him good night, but he didn't notice.
Then he put on his clothes and built himself a Scotch-on-the-rocks from a cart in the living room. He gathered the books Burton had given him and began to read, turning on a floor lamp nearby, as the fire had gone out.
CHAPTER 4
That same evening, on the East Side of the city, in a working-class neighborhood where Americans who still thought of themselves as Eastern Europeans huddled in sturdy but paint-peeling two-story, two-family frame houses, a fifty-year-old Slovak laborer named August "Gus" Kulovic, a tall but powerful man with a long horsey face and a pleasant manner, was saying what a wonderful place America was.
He was, after all, in the company of a government agent, Special Agent Sidney White, who was here to repay Gus the money the Depression had cost him. Uncle Sam cared about Gus Kulovic. So said Special Agent Sidney White.
At first Gus had been frightened. The knock at his door two nights before had been loud enough to wake the dead, even to wake Gus Kulovic, despite his bad hearing- which was getting worse and worse-a disability that dated back to the Great War. Yes, Gus had served his adopted country in the trenches overseas. He had not been wounded, but the shelling, the thunder of the shelling, had taken its toll on his poor ears.