«What does that mean?» asked Alan Martin, his eyes betraying a complete lack of understanding. «Other than that you read the goddamn papers?»
«Nobody else had the loot.»
«Which has nothing to do with the legality of the situation,» said Trevayne.
«Conclusion?» Sam leaned back on the couch. «Either old Josh wandered back through the legal gymnastics to the essential truth with all of its human imperfections, or he had an ulterior motive. Frankly, I can’t subscribe to the latter. No … ‘compatible motive,’ to use the judge’s own words. Lastly, he’s a stand-up legal encyclopedia. Even though a lot of us are convinced there are holes, he might just be able to fill every one.»
«So much for Bellstar.» Trevayne wrote a note to himself on the back of the envelope in his hand. «What else, Alan?»
«Goddard was angry—I mean he blinked and smiled and damn near tore his fingernails on the wood—when you skirted the question of Armbruster. The Senator’s off-limits with him. I don’t think he knew what you were driving at. Neither did I, to tell you the truth… Armbruster’s been a thorn to big corporations, especially monoliths like Genessee. He couldn’t understand your question about Armbruster being consulted about employment statistics.»
«Because Armbruster wasn’t consulted. He did the consulting.»
«I still don’t understand.»
«The liberal Senator did some rather illiberal cogitations during the last election.»
«No kidding?» Vicarson’s eyes were wide.
«I wish I were,» answered Trevayne.
«The last thing I put down—I left the legal stuff to Sam—was the downright evasions they all gave us, in unison, on the aircraft lobby. They were primed on this one. By their percentage figures they’re accountable for a maximum of twenty-two percent of the lobby’s funding. Yet according to the lobby’s own stats, Genessee’s responsible for twenty-seven percent that we know about, and probably another twelve that’s buried. If I really ran a subsidiary check and pulled in the Green Agency in New York, I swear I’d find an additional twenty percent. I know goddamned well Genessee plies a minimum of seven million into the lobby, but they refuse to admit it. I tell you, they’ve got more labels for public relations than Sears Roebuck has in a catalog.»
Labels. A nation of labels, thought Andrew Trevayne.
«Who runs Green in New York?»
«Aaron Green,» answered Sam Vicarson. «Philanthropist, patron of the arts, publisher of poetry at his own expense. Very high type.»
«A co-religionist of mine,» added Alan Martin. «Only he came from Birmingham’s ‘Our Crowd,’ not from New Britain, Connecticut, where us yids ate Kielbasa or got rapped by Polack knuckles… That’s all I wrote down.»
Labels, a nation of labels.
Andrew Trevayne unobtrusively made another notation on the back of the Mark Hopkins envelope. «Grade A, pass, Rabbi Martin. Shall we bar-mitzvah young Sam?»
«After all my erudition? You’re a hard man, Mr. Chairman.»
«We grant you’re erudite, don’t we, Alan? We also grant your exquisite taste in gifts.» Trevayne picked up his shark lighter from the lamp table and pressed the dorsal fin. No light appeared in the mouth. «You owe me a battery… Now, what has the learned counselor deemed to provide us?»
«Crap… Funny, I don’t even like the word, but I use it a lot. Now, it fits.» Vicarson rose from the couch and walked toward the hotel television set and fingered the top.
«What’s the crap?» asked Trevayne.
«The term is no-volotore. At least it’s my term.» Vicarson turned around and faced Martin and Trevayne. «Goddard had a lawyer there this afternoon, but he didn’t know what the hell was transpiring. No-volotore; he couldn’t offer anything. He was there to make sure no one contradicted himself legally—that’s all. He wasn’t allowed to know much of anything. It’s one hell of a position.»
«Christ, I’m repeating myself,» said Martin, «but I don’t understand.»
«Dumb yiddle.» Vicarson lobbed an empty ashtray at Martin, who caught it effortlessly with his left hand. «He was a front. A surface front who watched both sides like a biased referee. He kept picking us up on phrases, asking for classifications—not on substance, only on verbiage. You dig?… He made sure some future record was clean. And take my word for it, there was nothing said this afternoon that anyone could use in court.» Vicarson leaned against the back of a chair and feigned a push-up on it.
«All right, Mr. Blacks tone. Why does that disturb you so?» Trevayne shifted his position so he could give young Sam the benefit of his full attention.
«Simple, my leader. No one puts a lawyer, especially a corporate lawyer, in that kind of position unless he’s frightened out of his tree. You tell him something!… That man didn’t know anything. Believe me true, Mr. Trevayne, he was in a much darker area than we were.»
«You’re employing Judge Studebaker’s tactics, Sam. Abstractions,» said Trevayne.
«Not really; that’s for openers.» Vicarson suddenly stopped his juvenile gyrations and walked rapidly back to the couch. He sat down and picked up one of the pages on the coffee table. «I made a couple of notes, too. Not so elaborate as Al’s—I was dodging the evil people—but I figured out a few things… For a first raise, what would you say to collusion?»
Both listeners looked at each other, then at Vicarson.
«I thought nothing was said this afternoon that could be used in court.» Trevayne spoke while lighting a cigarette.
«Qualification—not by itself. In conjunction with other information, and a lot of digging, there’s a good possibility.»
«What is it?» asked Martin.
«Goddard dropped the fact that he—‘he’ being Genessee Industries—hadn’t been apprised of the steel quotas set by the President’s Import Commission in March of last year before the official release date. The fact that Genessee had an armada of Tamishito ingot shipped from Japan just under the wire was ascribed to favorable market conditions and an astute purchasing board. Am I right?»
Trevayne nodded; Martin toyed with his grotesque little flashlight. «So?» he asked.
«In August, Genessee floated a bond issue. Some one hundred million dollars… We lawyers keep an eye on such things; we always wish we were a member of the firm that gets the job. That’s big-bonus time. I stray… The firm which took on the bond issue was a Chicago office, Brandon and Smith; very big, very aristocratic. But why Chicago? There are a dozen tried-and-trues just down the street in New York.»
«Come on, Sam,» said Trevayne. «What’s your point?»
«I have to tell it this way. I need the background… Two weeks ago, Brandon and Smith took on a third principal partner. One Ian Hamilton, an irreproachable member of the bar and—»
It was as far as Vicarson got. Andrew sat forward, holding the envelope in his hand. «Ian Hamilton was on the President’s Import Commission.»
«The commission was formally adjourned after the report was given to the White House. In February; nine months ago. Although no one knew whether the President would accept the recommendations, the five members of the commission were expected—legally required—to keep silent about their findings.»
Trevayne sat back and wrote another note on his envelope. «All right, Sam… It’s a traceable item. What else?»