«They respect you! You’ve worked harder than any man I know. You’re the best damned lawyer there is!»
«I’d like to think so.»
«You are!»
Richard Tremayne stood at the large bay window looking out at the lawn of his seventy-four-thousand-dollar ranch house. «Isn’t it funny. You’re probably right. I’m one of the best there is in a system I despise… A system Tanner would rip apart piece by piece on one of his programs if he knew what really made it go. That’s what the little message is all about.»
«I think you’re wrong. I think it’s someone you’ve beaten who wants to get even. Who’s trying to frighten you.»
«Then he’s succeeded. What this … Blackstone is telling me isn’t anything I don’t know. What I am and what I do makes me Tanner’s natural enemy. At least he’d think so… If only he knew the truth.»
He looked at her and forced a smile. «They know the truth in Zurich.»
6
Tuesday—9:30 A.M. California Time
Osterman wandered aimlessly around the studio lot, trying to get his mind off the pre-dawn phone call. He was obsessed by it.
Neither he nor Leila had slept again. They’d kept trying to narrow down the possibilities and when those were exhausted they explored the more important question of why.
Why had he been called? What was behind it? Was Tanner onto another one of his exposés?
If he was, it had nothing to do with him. Nothing to do with Bernie Osterman.
Tanner never talked in specifics about his work. Only in generalities. He had a low pressure point when it came to what he considered injustice, and since the two men often disagreed on what constituted fair game in the marketplace, they avoided specifics.
Bernie thought of Tanner as a crusader who had never traveled on foot. He’d never gone through the experience of watching a father come home and announce he had no job the next day. Or a mother staying up half the night sewing wonders into a worn-out garment for a child going to school in the morning. Tanner could afford his indignation, and he had done fine work. But there were some things he would never understand. It was why Bernie had never discussed Zurich with him.
«Hey, Bernie! Wait a minute!» Ed Pomfret, a middle-aged, rotund, insecure producer, caught up with him on the sidewalk.
«Hello, Eddie. How’s everything?»
«Great! I tried reaching you at your office. The girl said you were out.»
«Nothing to do.»
«I got the word, guess you did, too. It’ll be good working with you.»
«Oh?… No, I didn’t get the word. What are we working on?»
«What’s this? Jokes?» Pomfret was slightly defensive. As if he was aware that Osterman thought he was a second-rater.
«No jokes. I’m wrapping up here this week. What are you talking about? Who gave you the word?»
«That new man from Continuity phoned me this morning. I’m handling half of the segments on The Interceptor series. He said you were doing four running shots. I like the idea.»
«What idea?»
«The story outline. Three men working on a big, quiet deal in Switzerland. Right away it grabbed me.»
Osterman stopped walking and looked down at Pomfret.
«Who put you up to this?»
«Put me up to what?»
«There’s no four shots. No outlines. No deal. Now tell me what you’re trying to say.»
«You’ve got to be joking. Would I kid powerhouses like you and Leila? I was tickled to death. Continuity told me to phone you, ask for the outlines!»
«Who called you?»
«What’s his name… That new exec Continuity brought from New York.»
«Who?»
«He told me his name… Tanner. That’s it. Tanner. Jim Tanner, John Tanner …»
«John Tanner doesn’t work here! Now, who told you to tell me this?» He grabbed Pomfret’s arm. «Tell me, you son of a bitch!»
«Take your hands off me! You’re crazy!»
Osterman recognized his mistake: Pomfret was no more than a messenger boy. He let go of the producer’s arm. «I’m sorry, Eddie. I apologize… I’ve got a lot on my mind. Forgive me, please. I’m a pig.»
«Sure, sure. You’re uptight, that’s all. You’re very uptight, man.»
«You say this fellow—Tanner—called you this morning?»
«About two hours ago. To tell you the truth, I didn’t know him.»
«Listen. This is some kind of a practical joke. You know what I mean? I’m not doing the series, believe me… Just forget it, okay?»
«A joke?»
«Take my word for it, okay?… Tell you what; they’re talking to Leila and me about a project here. I’ll insist on you as the money-man, how about it?»
«Hey, thanks!»
«Don’t mention it. Just keep this little joke between the two of us, right?»
Osterman didn’t bother to wait for Pomfret’s grateful reply. He hurried away down the studio street, toward his car. He had to get home to Leila.
A huge man in a chauffeur’s uniform was sitting in the front seat of his car! He got out as Bernie approached and held the back door open for him.
«Mr. Osterman?»
«Who are you? What are you doing in …»
«I have a message for you.»
«But I don’t want to hear it! I want to know why you’re sitting in my car!»
«Be very careful of your friend, John Tanner. Be careful what you say to him.»
«What in God’s name are you talking about?»
The chauffeur shrugged. «I’m just delivering a message, Mr. Osterman. And now would you like me to drive you home?»
«Of course not! I don’t know you! I don’t understand…»
The back door closed gently. «As you wish, sir. I was simply trying to be friendly.» With a smart salute, he turned away.
Bernie stood alone, immobile, staring after him.
7
Tuesday—10:00 A.M.
«Are any of the Mediterranean accounts in trouble?» Joe Cardone asked.
His partner, Sam Bennett, turned in his chair to make sure the office door was shut. «Mediterranean» was their code word for those clients both partners knew were lucrative but dangerous investors. «Not that I know of,» he said. «Why? Did you hear something?»
«Nothing direct… Perhaps nothing at all.»
«That’s why you came back early, though?»
«No, not really.» Cardone understood that even for Bennett not all explanations could be given. Sam was no part of Zurich. So Joe hesitated. «Well, partly. I spent some time at the Montreal Exchange.»
«What did you hear?»
«That there’s a new drive from the Attorney General’s office; that the S.E.C. is handing over everything they have. Every possible Mafia connection with a hundred thousand or more is being watched.»
«That’s nothing new. Where’ve you been?»
«In Montreal. That’s where I’ve been. I don’t like it when I hear things like that eight hundred miles from the office. And I’m Goddamned reluctant to pick up a telephone and ask my partner if any of our clients are currently before a grand jury… I mean, telephone conversations aren’t guaranteed to be private any more.»
«Good Lord!» Bennett laughed. «Your imagination’s working overtime, isn’t it?»
«I hope so.»
«You know damned well I’d have gotten in touch with you if anything like that came up. Or even looked like it might come up. You didn’t cut a vacation short on those grounds. What’s the rest?»
Cardone avoided his partner’s eyes as he sat down at his desk. «Okay. I won’t lie. Something else did bring me in… I don’t think it has anything to do with us. With you or the company. If I find out otherwise, I’ll come to you, all right?»