was interested in doing if he could get out of prison, Sam Yinger made it clear that there was only one reason he would like to be free. “I’d like revenge. There were people who treated me unfair in the trial.”’ Victoria visualized the closing quote: ‘“I’m
talking about the D.A___I never liked the way he talked
about me to the jury … He called me an animal… I’d like to
show him you can’t treat another human being like that. It’s the only thing I’d like to be free for - to kill that Van Dusen.”’
In those last seconds, a cold chill began to creep over Victoria’s flesh.
Yinger was free right now, tonight.
He had a gun, and he was thought to be heading for New York.
If he was to be believed, he had only one animal motive to take him there. To kill. To kill for revenge. To kill District Attorney Van Dusen.
Victoria knew it, but no one else in the city knew it - least of all District Attorney Van Dusen.
In those seconds of realization, Victoria was immobilized by fright.
The horns of the cars behind her startled her into action. Aware that the spotlight had turned green, she stepped on the gas, moving her vehicle slowly until she could cut into the right-hand lane. At the first opportunity she spun off Park into a one-way street and searched for a telephone. Past Madison Avenue there were restaurants open, but no place to park. When she reached Fifth Avenue, she recalled there were two public telephones on a corner a block away. She swung into Fifth, followed the traffic, gratefully spotted the telephones outside the Doubleday Book Shop. Desperately seeking a place to leave her car, she saw a cab draw away from the curb, and quickly slipped into the empty parking space.
Shutting off the engine, she jumped out of the car and ran to the telephones. One was unoccupied. She knew that she had plenty of small change.
Now she must keep her wits about her. Yinger was after District Attorney Van Dusen. She must locate Van Dusen. Not easy at this hour, but she must find him and warn him before it was too late.
She started dialing. It was as if a Great Wall of Operators blocked her. Casual, unhurried operators, not interested in her frantic haste.
At last she had an operator at the Criminal Courts Building.
‘Give me the district attorney’s office,’ Victoria begged. ‘I’ve got to speak to Mr. Van Dusen. It’s urgent.’
Another gum-chewing voice. ‘He’s not in. No one is. Hey,
don’t you know what time it is? Try tomorrow.’
‘Tomorrow may be too late. Someone’s life is involved.’
‘Well, maybe I can find somebody to talk to you. Let me connect you with the supervisor in the complaint room. He’s sure to be there. Hold on.’
There was a series of clicks. Some static.
A man’s voice. Tired voice. ‘Berger. Complaints.’
Victoria tried to keep her tone steady. ‘I’m Victoria Weston. I’m a reporter on the New YoikRecord. I must speak to the district attorney on an urgent matter -‘
‘I’m sorry, miss, you have the wrong department.’
‘ I’ve got to get hold of Mr. Van Dusen. It’s important, I tell you.
‘I’d suggest you try his office in the morning.’
‘He may be dead in the morning.’
‘We all may be,’ said the supervisor cheerfully. ‘Now if you have a legitimate complaint -‘
‘My complaint is that no one will help me contact the district attorney.’
‘Forget about doing it tonight. He’s at the testimonial dinner for the mayor at the Plaza.’
‘Where?’
‘The Grand Ballroom of the Plaza Hotel.’
Victoria thanked him, slammed the receiver down on the hook. The Plaza wasn’t too far to make it on foot, but she reconsidered. Too far to walk in an emergency. She made for her car, and tried to find the quickest route to the Plaza.
Twelve minutes later she pulled up in front of the Fifty-ninth Street entrance to the Plaza. She gave her car (and a generous tip) to the uniformed doorman to park and hurried up the steps into
talking about the D.A___I never liked the way he talked
about me to the jury … He called me an animal… I’d like to
show him you can’t treat another human being like that. It’s the only thing I’d like to be free for - to kill that Van Dusen.”’
In those last seconds, a cold chill began to creep over Victoria’s flesh.
Yinger was free right now, tonight.
He had a gun, and he was thought to be heading for New York.
If he was to be believed, he had only one animal motive to take him there. To kill. To kill for revenge. To kill District Attorney Van Dusen.
Victoria knew it, but no one else in the city knew it - least of all District Attorney Van Dusen.
In those seconds of realization, Victoria was immobilized by fright.
The horns of the cars behind her startled her into action. Aware that the spotlight had turned green, she stepped on the gas, moving her vehicle slowly until she could cut into the right-hand lane. At the first opportunity she spun off Park into a one-way street and searched for a telephone. Past Madison Avenue there were restaurants open, but no place to park. When she reached Fifth Avenue, she recalled there were two public telephones on a corner a block away. She swung into Fifth, followed the traffic, gratefully spotted the telephones outside the Doubleday Book Shop. Desperately seeking a place to leave her car, she saw a cab draw away from the curb, and quickly slipped into the empty parking space.
Shutting off the engine, she jumped out of the car and ran to the telephones. One was unoccupied. She knew that she had plenty of small change.
Now she must keep her wits about her. Yinger was after District Attorney Van Dusen. She must locate Van Dusen. Not easy at this hour, but she must find him and warn him before it was too late.
She started dialing. It was as if a Great Wall of Operators blocked her. Casual, unhurried operators, not interested in her frantic haste.
At last she had an operator at the Criminal Courts Building.
‘Give me the district attorney’s office,’ Victoria begged. ‘I’ve got to speak to Mr. Van Dusen. It’s urgent.’
Another gum-chewing voice. ‘He’s not in. No one is. Hey,
don’t you know what time it is? Try tomorrow.’
‘Tomorrow may be too late. Someone’s life is involved.’
‘Well, maybe I can find somebody to talk to you. Let me connect you with the supervisor in the complaint room. He’s sure to be there. Hold on.’
There was a series of clicks. Some static.
A man’s voice. Tired voice. ‘Berger. Complaints.’
Victoria tried to keep her tone steady. ‘I’m Victoria Weston. I’m a reporter on the New YoikRecord. I must speak to the district attorney on an urgent matter -‘
‘I’m sorry, miss, you have the wrong department.’
‘ I’ve got to get hold of Mr. Van Dusen. It’s important, I tell you.
‘I’d suggest you try his office in the morning.’
‘He may be dead in the morning.’
‘We all may be,’ said the supervisor cheerfully. ‘Now if you have a legitimate complaint -‘
‘My complaint is that no one will help me contact the district attorney.’
‘Forget about doing it tonight. He’s at the testimonial dinner for the mayor at the Plaza.’
‘Where?’
‘The Grand Ballroom of the Plaza Hotel.’
Victoria thanked him, slammed the receiver down on the hook. The Plaza wasn’t too far to make it on foot, but she reconsidered. Too far to walk in an emergency. She made for her car, and tried to find the quickest route to the Plaza.
Twelve minutes later she pulled up in front of the Fifty-ninth Street entrance to the Plaza. She gave her car (and a generous tip) to the uniformed doorman to park and hurried up the steps into
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