"What kind of harpoon?" Orinda asked. "A parade? A sit-in? A demonstration?"
"No," Margot said. "Forget all that stuff. It's old hat. Nobody's impressed by conventional demonstrations any more. They're just a nuisance. They achieve nothing."
She surveyed the group facing her in the crowded, cluttered, smoky office. They were a dozen or so, mixed blacks and whites, in assorted shapes, sizes, and demeanors. Some were perched precariously on rickety chairs and boxes, others squatted on the floor. "Listen carefully, all of you. I said we need some action, and there. Is a kind of action which I believe will work."
"Miss Bracken." A small figure near the back of the room stood up. It was Juanita Lopez, whom Margot had greeted when she came in. "Yes, Mrs. Nunez?"
"I want to help. But you know, I think, that I work for the FMA Bank. Perhaps I should not hear what you will tell the others…"
Margot said appreciatively, "No, and I should have thought of that instead of embarrassing you."
There was a general murmur of understanding. Amid it, Juanita made her way to the door.
"What you heard already," Deacon Euphrates said, "that's a secret, ain't it?"
As Juanita nodded, Margot said quickly, "We can Al trust Mrs. Nunez. I hope her employers are as ethical as she is."
When the meeting had settled down again Margot faced the remaining members. Her stance was characteristic: hands on small waist, elbows aggressively out. A moment earlier she had pushed her long chestnut hair back a gesture of habit before action, like the raising of a curtain. As she talked, interest heightened. A smile or two appeared. At one point Seth Orinda chuckled deeply. Near the end? Deacon Euphrates and others were grinning broadly. "Man, oh mans" Deacon said. 'That's goddam clever," someone else put in.
Margot reminded them, "To make the whole scheme work, we need a lot of people at least a thousand to begin with, and more as time goes on." A fresh voice asked, "How long we need ‘em?"
"We'll plan on a week. A banking week, that is five days. If that doesn't work we should consider going longer and extending our scope of operations. Frankly, though, I don't believe it will be necessary. Another thing: Everyone involved must be carefully briefed." "I'll help with that," Seth Orinda volunteered. There was an immediate chorus of, "So will I."
Deacon Euphrates's voice rose above others. "I got time comin' to me. Goddam, I'll use it; take a week off work, an' I can pull in others."
'Woody" Margot said. She went on decisively, "We'll need a master plan. I'll have that ready by tomorrow night. The rest of you should begin recruiting right away. And remember, secrecy is important."
Half an hour later the meeting broke up, the committee members far more cheerful and optimistic than when they had assembled.
At Margot's request, Seth Orinda stayed behind. She told him, "Seth, in a special way I need your help.".
"You know I'll give it if I can, Miss Bracken."
"When any action starts," Margot said, "I'm usually at the front of it. You know that." "I sure do." The high school teacher beamed.
'1his time I want to stay out of sight. Also, I don't want my name involved when newspapers, TV, and radio start their coverage. If that happened it could embarrass two special friends of mine the ones I spoke about at the bank. I want to prevent that." Orinda nodded sagely. "So far as I can see, no problem,
"What I'm really asking," Margot insisted, "is that you and the others front this one for me. I'll be behind scenes, of course. And if there's need to, you can call me, though I hope you won't."
"That's silly," Seth Orinda said. "How could we call you when none of us ever heard your name?"
On Saturday evening, two days after the Forum East Tenants Association meeting, Margot and Alex were guests at a small dinner party given by friends, and afterward went together to Margot's apartment. It was in a less fashionable part of the city than Alex's elegant suite, and was smaller, but Margot had furnished it pleasingly with period pieces she had collected at modest prices in the course of years. Alex loved to be there.
The apartment was greatly in contrast to Margot's law office.
"I missed you, Bracken," Alex said. He had changed into pajamas and a robe which he kept at Margot's and was relaxed in a Queen Anne wing chair, Margot curled on a rug before him, her head tilted back against his knees while he stroked her long hair gently. Occasionally his fingers strayed gentle and sexually skillful, beginning to arouse her as he always did, and in the way she loved. Margot sighed with gratification. Soon they would go to bed. Yet, while mutual desire mounted, there was exquisite pleasure in self-imposed delay.
It was a week and a half since they had last been together, conflicting schedules having kept them apart.
"We'll make up for those lost days," Margot said.
Alex was sired. Then, "You know, I've been waiting all evening for you to fry me on a griddle about Forum East. Instead, you haven't said a word."
Margot tilted her head farther back, looking at him upside down. She asked innocently, "Why should I fry you, darling? The bank's money cutback wasn't your idea." Her small brow furrowed. "Or was it?" "You know darn well it wasn't."
"Of course I knew. Just as I was equally sure that you'd opposed it."
"Yes, I opposed it." He added ruefully, "For all the good it did." "You tried your best. That's all anyone can ask."
Alex regarded her suspiciously. "None of this is like you." "Not like me in what way?"
"You're a fighter. It's one of the things I love about you. You don't give up. You won't accept defeat calmly."
"Perhaps some defeats are total. In that case nothing can be done."
Alex sat up straight. "You're up to something, Bracken! I know it. Now tell me what it is."
Margot considered, then said slowly, "I'm not admitting anything. But even if what you just said is true, it could be there are certain things it's better you don't know. Something I'd never want to do, Alex, is embarrass you."
He smiled affectionately. "You have told me something after all. All right, if you don't want any probing, I won't do it. But I'll ask one assurance: that whatever you have in mind is legal."
Momentarily, Margot's temper flared. "I'm the lawyer around here. I'll decide what's legal and what isn't." "Even clever lady lawyers make mistakes."
"Not this time." She seemed about to argue further, then relented. Her voice softened. "You know I always operate inside the law. Also you know why.'
"Yes, I do," Alex said. Relaxed once more, he went back to stroking her hair. She had confided in him once, after they knew each other well, about her reasoning, reached years before, the result of tragedy and loss.
At law school, where Margot was an honors student, she had joined, like others at the time, in activism and protest. It was the period of increasing American involvement in Vietnam and bitter divisions in the nation. It was the beginning, too, of restlessness and change within the legal profession, a rebellion of youth against the law's elders and establishment, a time for a new breed of belligerent lawyer of whom Ralph Nader was the publicized, lauded symbol.
Earlier at college, and later at law school, Margot had shared her avant-garde views, her activism, and herself with a male fellow student the only name Alex ever heard was Gregory and Gregory and Margot cohabited, as was customary too.
For several months there had been student-administration confrontations and one of the worst began over the official appearance on campus of U. S. Army, and Navy recruiters. A student body majority, including Gregory and Margot, wanted the recruiters ordered off. The school authorities took an opposite, strong view.
In protest, militant students occupied the Administration Building, barricading themselves in and others out. Gregory and Margot, caught up in the general fervor, were among them.