and then hung up.
“I was right, but I’m not as worried as I was.”
“Why should you have been worried anyway?”
“After all these years you’re still innocent? A call girl comes into the house all set so she can pretend to be something else, all cleared with me in case somebody gets suspicious, and you should know right away somebody is being set up. It could be my business, Rick. There’s money in that herd of nothings you’ve got over there. So suppose it was a high-level badger game bit? And the sucker doesn’t stand still for it. And it becomes a police and newspaper thing. That would be wonderful public relations, sweets.”
“So why aren’t you worried so much now?”
“Because this chick is on Alma Bender’s list, and that’s a solid guarantee of no trouble. No blackmail, no disappointments. When we got anybody here who could be done a lot of damage and who’ll go for the rate, I play it safe and use Bender, and there’s never been a kick yet. Hey, sweets! Now I know how it is I remember the name of that chick. Cory Barlund. Sure. Remember the honorable congressman from Indiana, over a year ago? The youngish one hiding out down here so he wouldn’t have to testify and embarrass a friend?”
“Almost two years ago.”
“Nice guy. He got lonesome. I used Bender and got him that chick. He flew down here I swear five times trying to get her again, by name, but she never would make the return match, and every time he got a no, I thought he’d break into tears. That’s why the name was familiar. Otherwise, who the hell would remember their names? And why? I feel safe, but I think I’ll check it with Alma Bender anyhow, just to be sure Barlund isn’t going this one alone.”
“Anything I should do?”
“No, sweets. If it’s sour I’ll let you know and find some way to handle it.”
DiLarra stood up. “One thing that always gets me. Why do they buy it? Why do they pay so much? God, Alan, this town is so full of …”
“Use your head, sweets. Sure, any guy who isn’t a complete monster can kill himself down here on random tail, but he is always running into problems. Sometimes she turns out to be a teaser, or a lush, or even sick. Or she wants to fall in love, and that’s a problem. Or she’s two months along and is looking for somebody to set up for the marriage bit. Or she’s a nut. Or the cops want her. And even when you have none of those problems,it still takes a lot of time and talk setting it up. And maybe, if everything else is fine, you end up with somebody with no talent for it. The busy, important man, sweets, does better with a high-level pro. All the questions are answered before you start. If he wants to do the town, he knows she’ll look good enough and dress well enough to take anywhere. And she won’t get plotzed or chew with her mouth open or leave him for somebody else in the middle of the evening. He knows just how the evening is going to end up, and he knows she’ll be good at it, and he knows there won’t be any letters or phone calls or visits a couple of weeks or months later. It’s efficiency, sweets. Modern management methods. And these days, if he travels first class, he’s working on a two-to-one chance she’ll have a college degree.”
“Are you selling me?”
“In any game in the world, Rick, never bet on the amateurs, because you’ll never know what the hell they’re going to do.”
In the murmurous, echoing emptiness of the Convention Hall, seven separate workshops were in progress. In private meeting rooms, committees were at work. In the Convention Hall men wandered away from the study groups when their interest lagged, and kibitzed other groups. The voices of the speakers, unamplified, droned in a sleepy, uncoordinated chorus. Men wandered and glanced at each other’s badges of identity, and joined in groups of two and three and four to talk in low voices about how drunk who got and who had what lined up. They asked about each
“I was right, but I’m not as worried as I was.”
“Why should you have been worried anyway?”
“After all these years you’re still innocent? A call girl comes into the house all set so she can pretend to be something else, all cleared with me in case somebody gets suspicious, and you should know right away somebody is being set up. It could be my business, Rick. There’s money in that herd of nothings you’ve got over there. So suppose it was a high-level badger game bit? And the sucker doesn’t stand still for it. And it becomes a police and newspaper thing. That would be wonderful public relations, sweets.”
“So why aren’t you worried so much now?”
“Because this chick is on Alma Bender’s list, and that’s a solid guarantee of no trouble. No blackmail, no disappointments. When we got anybody here who could be done a lot of damage and who’ll go for the rate, I play it safe and use Bender, and there’s never been a kick yet. Hey, sweets! Now I know how it is I remember the name of that chick. Cory Barlund. Sure. Remember the honorable congressman from Indiana, over a year ago? The youngish one hiding out down here so he wouldn’t have to testify and embarrass a friend?”
“Almost two years ago.”
“Nice guy. He got lonesome. I used Bender and got him that chick. He flew down here I swear five times trying to get her again, by name, but she never would make the return match, and every time he got a no, I thought he’d break into tears. That’s why the name was familiar. Otherwise, who the hell would remember their names? And why? I feel safe, but I think I’ll check it with Alma Bender anyhow, just to be sure Barlund isn’t going this one alone.”
“Anything I should do?”
“No, sweets. If it’s sour I’ll let you know and find some way to handle it.”
DiLarra stood up. “One thing that always gets me. Why do they buy it? Why do they pay so much? God, Alan, this town is so full of …”
“Use your head, sweets. Sure, any guy who isn’t a complete monster can kill himself down here on random tail, but he is always running into problems. Sometimes she turns out to be a teaser, or a lush, or even sick. Or she wants to fall in love, and that’s a problem. Or she’s two months along and is looking for somebody to set up for the marriage bit. Or she’s a nut. Or the cops want her. And even when you have none of those problems,it still takes a lot of time and talk setting it up. And maybe, if everything else is fine, you end up with somebody with no talent for it. The busy, important man, sweets, does better with a high-level pro. All the questions are answered before you start. If he wants to do the town, he knows she’ll look good enough and dress well enough to take anywhere. And she won’t get plotzed or chew with her mouth open or leave him for somebody else in the middle of the evening. He knows just how the evening is going to end up, and he knows she’ll be good at it, and he knows there won’t be any letters or phone calls or visits a couple of weeks or months later. It’s efficiency, sweets. Modern management methods. And these days, if he travels first class, he’s working on a two-to-one chance she’ll have a college degree.”
“Are you selling me?”
“In any game in the world, Rick, never bet on the amateurs, because you’ll never know what the hell they’re going to do.”
In the murmurous, echoing emptiness of the Convention Hall, seven separate workshops were in progress. In private meeting rooms, committees were at work. In the Convention Hall men wandered away from the study groups when their interest lagged, and kibitzed other groups. The voices of the speakers, unamplified, droned in a sleepy, uncoordinated chorus. Men wandered and glanced at each other’s badges of identity, and joined in groups of two and three and four to talk in low voices about how drunk who got and who had what lined up. They asked about each
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