"Well, be there tomorrow, promptly at noon."
"Promptly, huh? Okay. You're the boss; you're the only rich relative I got."
"Dress nice, Nate."
"I'll wear the clean suit."
"I'd appreciate that. We won't be dining alone."
"Oh?"
"There's someone who wants to meet you."
"Who would that be?"
"Mr. Dawes."
"Yeah. sure. Rufus or the General?"
"The General."
"Say, you aren't kidding, are you?"
"Not in the least."
"The biggest banker in Chicago wants to see me? Former vice-president of these United States meets former member of the downtown division's pickpocket detail?"
"That's correct."
"Why, for Christ's sake?"
"Can I count on you for noon. Nathan?"
Nathan again!
"Of course you can. Hell. Maybe we can stick Dawes for the check."
"Noon, Nathan," Uncle Louis said humorlessly.
I sat looking at the phone, after hanging up. for maybe ten minutes, trying to figure this. And it just didn't figure. Cermak and Nitti wanting to see me was one tiling; Dawes was something else again. I couldn't work it out.
And I had forgot to ask about the file cabinets.
At about six, I went down onto the street and found another cool evening waiting for me- the day had been cloudy, no snow, a little rain, and the sidewalk was shiny, wet. Van Buren Street itself, though, sheltered by the El tracks, looked dry. A streetcar slid by, obscuring the store across the way- Bailey's Uniforms- for just a moment. I walked to the restaurant around the corner from Barney's building; it was a white building with a vertical sign that spelled out
B
I
N
Y
o
N
S in neon-outlined white letters against black, with the word "Restaurant" horizontally below in black cursive neon against white. Not a cheap place, but they didn't rob you either, and the food was good, and since I'd missed lunch I decided I could afford something better than a one-arm joint.
I couldn't afford it, really: I'd get one more paycheck from the department and then would have to dig into the couple thousand I had salted away- a combination of the remainder of the small estate my pa left and money I'd been putting aside for a house for after Janey and I got married.
I had about an hour to kill before hopping the El to go out to Janey's flat on the near North Side, so I hit Barney's blind pig again, and Barney was in there, sitting in a booth with a hardly touched beer; he lit up like July 4 when he saw me.
I was embarrassed What can you say when somebody goes that far out of his way for you?
"Might've made up the bed, you thoughtless bastard," I said, with a sour smile.
"Go to hell," he said pleasantly.
"I tried to call you at the gym this afternoon, but couldn't get you."
"I was doing roadwork around Grant Park. I usually do that in the morning, but I had some business to do. and Pian and Winch insist on that roadwork. 'cause my wind ain't my strong point."
"You had business to do, all right. Going out and getting that Murphy bed. and getting a phone put in. You forgot to get me a file cabinet, you know."
He shrugged. "They couldn't deliver till tomorrow."
"You're kidding."
He wasn't.
I said. "I hope you know I'm paying you for all this."
Barney nodded. "Okay."
"You might have argued a little."
"That gracious I'm not."
Buddy Gold came over from behind the bar and leaned in to our booth, raising his furry eyebrows sarcastically. "You got a phone call. Heller- that fed friend of yours."
I took it behind the bar.
"Eliot," I said "what's up?"
"Nate, can you get free?"
I looked at my watch; I needed to hop the El in half an hour to keep my date with Janey.
"Is it important, Eliot?"
"I think it's something you'd find interesting."
Eliot tended to understate, so that meant it was probably crucial I come.
"Okay. You going to pick me up?"
"Yes. I'm at the Transportation Building, so it won't be more than ten minutes. I'll try for five."
"Okay. You know where I am, obviously. Want to stop in for a beer?"
"No thanks. Nate." There was a smile in his voice; he liked to pretend he didn't have a sense of humor, but he did.
"Why don't you pick me up in that truck of yours, the one with the prow on the front end? You can just butt your way in. pick me up. and get a little work done on the side."
Eliot allowed himself a short laugh. "Why don't I just honk instead?"
"And I thought you had style," I said, hanging up.
I tried to call Janey to tell her I'd be late, but she wasn't home yet. So I went back to the booth.
"What does Ness have going?" Barney asked.
"He didn't say. Sounded like he was in a hurry to get there, wherever it is we're going. I haven't talked to him since this brouhaha started brewing. I do know he's involved peripherally. I saw in the papers that he and another prohibition agent questioned Campagna and Palumbo and the others when they were still in custody, that same day of the shooting. I meant to give him a call, but I didn't get 'round to it."
That wasn't quite true: in a way, I'd been ducking Eliot; not consciously, exactly, but I hadn't gone out of my way to see or talk with him, because he really was one of the few straight-arrow law enforcement officers in Chicago, and I liked him, and had earned a certain amount of his respect, and I didn't know if I wanted to talk to him about the shooting until I found out exactly how I was going to be able to play it. And now that I knew- knew that I'd be playing Cermak's crooked game, out of necessity I didn't know if I wanted to tell Eliot the truth, even off the record.
Eliot was, after all, one of the primary forces behind Al Capone's fall. The original Prohibition Unit had proved as corrupt as it was underpaid and poorly trained. That had been a Justice Department operation, but was transferred after an inauspicious seven-year run to Treasury in '28. In '29 Eliot, then only twenty-six and only a few years out of the University of Chicago, was chosen to command a select detail. He scoured personnel files for honest men. found almost no prospects among Chicago's three hundred-some prohibition agents, and finally came up with nine (and even of these "untouchables." one did prove crooked, a sore point with Eliot). The members of Eliot's detail were young- thirty or under- and expert marksmen, and included specialists in wiretapping, truck-driving, shadowing suspects on foot or by car. you name it. They shut down breweries and distilleries, made speakeasy raids, hitting Capone hard in his pocket-book; and they put together enough evidence to indict Capone and some of his cronies on "conspiracy to violate the Volstead Act."
But Nitti was right about Eliot's weakness for publicity. The effectiveness of his efforts was somewhat hampered by a tendency to inform the press of his battle plans, so that cameras would be on hand when the ten-ton truck smashed open the doors of a Capone brewery. And Eliot and his squad by no means single-handedly "destroyed" the Capone empire. For one thing, it was Elmer Irey, of the IRS Enforcement Branch, and Treasury Agent Frank Wilson, among others, who nailed Capone on tax evasion. And for another thing, the Capone gang was still around and doing quite nicely, thank you.
About five minutes had gone by since Eliot's call, and I was getting up to try Janey one last time, when I heard his honk. I reminded Barney to keep trying Janey till he got her, and went out and climbed in the front of Eliot's black Ford sedan.
I was barely in when Eliot pulled away.
"Where's the fire, chief?" I asked him.
He gave me a sideways glance and tight smile. "Your old stomping grounds."
Eliot had a certain grace; even sitting behind the wheel of the car. he seemed somehow intense and relaxed at the same time. He was of Norwegian stock, with a ruddy-cheeked, well-scrubbed appearance. a trail of freckles across the bridge of his nose; a six-footer with square, broad shoulders, he looked like somebody who could be Eliot Ness, if you were told that. But left to your own devices, you might take him for a young business exec (he was only twenty-nine, not that much older than me- but then Capone, at the time of his fall, had only been thirty-two, not the fortyish mobster of Scarf ace). He was wearing a tan camel's hair topcoat, a gray suit and maroon tie peeking out. His hat was on the seat between us.