Lang said. "I was suffering from shock. I can bring doctors to prove it."
The prosecutor let out a short laugh and turned his back on the witness, walking away saying. "You'll probably have that chance- in a trial of your own."
And sat down.
The judge sat behind his big wooden box wondering why the room got so silent all of a sudden; and then, remembering he was in charge, called a recess, instructing the prosecutor to meet with him in chambers.
People stood in little groups out in the corridor; reporters mingled with the various groups, not getting anywhere particularly. Lang and his lawyer stood talking solemnly; Miller and some plainclothes dicks stood well away from Lang, but Miller was bad-mouthing his partner loud enough that the echoey corridor carried it to anyone who cared to listen.
"I think Miller feels double-crossed." Eliot said.
I shrugged. "The minute Lang recanted, it made Miller look dirty. He's been supporting Lang's story all along, remember."
"He looks dirty because he is dirty," Eliot said.
"Good point," I said. "But this is Chicago. I wouldn't go looking under any cop's nails, if I were you."
Frank Nitti and his lawyer were standing down the corridor from us. talking; Nitti was all smiles. I saw him look my way a couple of times, but perhaps because I was standing with Eliot, he didn't come over right away. But eventually he did, and he looked at Eliot and nodded and said, "Mr. Ness."
"Mr. Nitti," Eliot said, nodding.
It occurred to me that Eliot and Nitti, like Eliot and Barney, shared a certain respect; and if my suspicions were correct about Eliot working on his pal the prosecutor to help see I didn't perjure myself, then Eliot had, in a roundabout way, been working to help Nitti here. The irony wasn't lost on Nitti, either.
"You're not here to root for me, are you, Mr. Ness?" Nitti asked.
Eliot shrugged. "If somebody tried to assassinate you, I am."
Nitti shrugged. "There's a lot of that soma around."
Eliot's expression turned cold "Yeah. So I hear."
Nitti had overstepped his bounds, and knew it. He turned to me and said, "I get the feeling you're behind this."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. I don't figure Lang's conscience is why he suddenly don't remember who shot him."
"You don't huh."
"If I'm indebted to you, and it looks like maybe I am… well. I pay my debts, that's all."
He shrugged again, smiled almost nervously, and turned to rejoin his lawyer, only his lawyer was right behind him; it made Nitti look a little awkward, and Nitti snapped at the man in Sicilian. The lawyer took it stoically, and they walked back down the corridor a ways, and Nitti was smiling again by the time they came to a stop.
"If you don't believe him," Eliot said, "just ask Cermak."
"What?"
"Whether Nitti pays his debts or not."
When court resumed, the prosecutor had a perjury warrant ready for Lang, and Lang was placed under arrest.
"I'd like a ten-thousand-dollar bond. Your Honor." the prosecutor said.
The judge said. "Bail will be two thousand dollars. That seems large enough. He is a policeman, after all. with a policeman's pay which as a city employee has been infrequent of late."
"You mean he was a policeman," the prosecutor said.
Eliot leaned my way and whispered, "His policeman's pay seems up to hiring a high-priced attorney."
The prosecutor said. "The State calls Nathan Heller."
And I took the stand.
Lang and his attorney were sitting in the front row of the gallery; one deputy sat next to Lang, several others hovered. Lang was looking off to one side, not terribly interested in what I had to say.
Why should he be? It was nothing he didn't already know: I told what had really happened in the office at the Wacker-LaSalle.
Despite Lang's upstaging me, all eyes (except his) were on me; the reporters were scribbling fast and furious. Miller was glaring, fat and furious.
At one point I was asked to step down and show how I had held Nitti by both wrists just before Lang came in and shot him.
"How was Lang shot?" the prosecutor asked.
"Nitti was unconscious," I said. "Lang must've shot himself."
A murmur passed across the courtroom, and Lang's eyes finally turned my way; he looked sad.
I stepped down; I had expected at least a few questions about or references to the guy I'd shot, in the window. But neither the defense nor the prosecution brought it up. I think Lang's lawyer would've got into it if he could, but Lang wasn't on trial. Technically.
Miller was called.
"Lang came in and said. 'He shot me.' " Miller told the prosecutor. "I went into the room where the shooting happened and picked up a revolver with one shot fired."
Nitti's lawyer had some questions for Miller.
"Why was Nitti put in that room before he was shot?" he wanted to know. "Was it to murder him, away from witnesses?"
"You'd have to ask Lang."
"Where did you go between four o'clock and five-thirty?"
"The mayor's office."
"With whom did you talk there?"
The prosecutor rose and objected. "Irrelevant and immaterial, Your Honor."
The objection was sustained.
Eliot shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
I said, "Cermak still has a few friends. I see."
Eliot said nothing.
Nitti's attorney tried again. "Did Lang have a conversation with anyone just before the shooting?"
"Yes," Miller said. "Ted Newberry."
And yet another wave of surprise rushed across the courtroom.
The judge rapped his gavel, and Nitti's attorney said, "You refer to the reputed gangland leader, Ted Newberry?"
"Yeah." Miller said. "The dead one. He offered Lang fifteen thousand to kill Nitti."
The judge had to bang his gavel again to quiet the courtroom, but the excitement was winding down: Miller was getting into an area that Nitti's lawyer obviously felt was best left unplumbed, and he said he had no further questions. The prosecutor seemed content to leave Miller and his Ted Newberry story to the grand jury. The Nitti case, however you figured it. was coming to a close.
The prosecutor asked for, and got. a directed verdict of not guilty for Nitti.
The next day, at the grand jury indictment for Lang, I was questioned again, this time by State's Attorney Courtney. The same ground was gone over. Nitti testified, corroborating my story, of course. He told reporters he would prefer to forget the whole thing, however; he didn't want to prosecute anybody for anything- he just wanted to get back to Florida and "regain his health."
Whether Nitti wanted to participate in the prosecution of an assault charge against Lang or not, Lang's perjury charge would go through.
And Lang's pal Miller tried, in the grand jury hearing, to desert a sinking ship. He was, the papers said, as helpful as could be, and repeated the Newberry story in detail. Cermak was one detail, however, that got left out.
Lana took the Fifth.
A John Doe warrant was used on Nitti, to keep him in town.
Outside the grand jury room, as I was coming out. Nitti and his lawyer were standing waiting to be called.
He stopped me and said. "Heller- something I want to ask you. now that your pal Ness ain't around."
"All right, Frank. Shoot. If you'll pardon the expression."
■
"What were you doing in Miami? What were you doing in the park, when that crazy anarchist bastard tried to kill the president?"
So I was right: the blond had recognized me, and reported back to his chief.
I said. "I was playing bodyguard for Cermak. Some job I did. huh?"
"About changed the course of history, didn't you, pal?"
" 'About' doesn't count for much, Frank."
"Why'd Cermak hire you on, an ex-cop, when he had Lang and all the other cops in town at his fingertips, and for free?"
"Cermak didn't hire me."
"Oh, yeah? Who did?"
"One of his longtime backers."
Nitti considered that, or pretended to: there wasn't a flicker of a reaction to indicate he suspected Capone's role in this; but that didn't mean he didn't.