opportunity and seized it. I felt sorry for him the way I felt sorry for Godzilla when the Japs left him for dead at the bottom of the ocean.
“Sing me a ballad,” I told him. “About where Reliance fits into this. About who you’re working for and why. About why you’ve been shadowing me. And look out for the sour notes, because I’m a music critic from way back and I’ll know when you’re off key.”
His breath was whistling in his throat. I relaxed my grip long enough to let him fill his lungs, then tightened up again. Still he didn’t say anything; that damn motto was too deeply ingrained. I didn’t have time to debrief him, so I just held on until his face took on the proper shade of purple.
“Our client isn’t a who,” he gasped, when I gave him room again. “It’s a what. Reliance is on permanent retainer from a coalition of major steel mills to maintain surveillance on United Steelhaulers at the executive level. Your conversation with Montana’s secretary today was monitored. What you said about Bingo Jefferson’s murder interested the brass. I was detailed to observe you.”
“You’ve got a tap on Montana’s telephone,” I said. “That’s illegal. Were you detailed to put the squeeze on me?”
The smoke from my cigarette made his eyes water. Fat tears rolled down his cheeks. He was growing younger before my eyes. “That was my idea. You won’t tell them.” His expression was pleading.
“Hell, they’d probably give you a raise for dedication to company policy. As long as a man like Montana heads up the union he’s a threat to the big mills. Your agency’s job is to get something on him that’ll make him easier to deal with. If he refuses, the mills can make it public, and if it’s bad enough the steelhaulers will take care of the problem for them. Reliance Investigations. ‘Sneakery, Perfidy, Skullduggery.’ Give me your wallet.”
I released him and stepped back. He stared, looking more afraid than he had when his throat was in my grasp. He had been reared in a family whose possessions meant more than eating and breathing.
“You’re right,” I said disgustedly. “This entire day was part of an elaborate scheme to separate you from your pocket change. The cops were in on it and so was Montana. The corpses were papier-mâché. My name isn’t even Walker. Under this clever disguise I’m actually Clifford Irving. Hand it over.”
He hesitated another beat, then fingered a black morocco billfold out of the inside breast pocket of his jacket and extended it. He carried less than fifty dollars, but there were enough credit cards in fold-out plastic windows to strangle a gorilla. That would be company policy as well; no cheating on expenses for a Reliance man. I lifted his photostat license, then out of curiosity unsnapped the photograph section and spent some time studying a picture of a petite-looking blonde in a light blue pleated blouse closed at the neck with a green brooch. She looked like eighteen trying to look twenty-one. Behind that was a snap of a pair of towheaded kids, boy and girl, splashing in a wading pool in a grassy backyard beside a garage with a basketball hoop mounted over the door. They might have been three and two. There were individual shots of each of them behind that, taken in a photographer’s studio. I looked up at Albert Gold.
“Yours?”
He craned his neck to see what I was referring to, then nodded. I thrust the wallet back at him savagely. There are a lot of things I don’t like about being single, but looking at pictures of someone else’s children is the worst. Besides, it made it harder for me not to like him.
He watched, horror-struck, as I tore his license into tiny pieces. “You won’t believe it,” I said, dusting the bits off my palms. “Maybe you never will, but I’m doing you a favor. Go back to Lansing and tell your boss you quit. Punch him in the nose if you feel like it, but first make sure there aren’t any witnesses
“Sing me a ballad,” I told him. “About where Reliance fits into this. About who you’re working for and why. About why you’ve been shadowing me. And look out for the sour notes, because I’m a music critic from way back and I’ll know when you’re off key.”
His breath was whistling in his throat. I relaxed my grip long enough to let him fill his lungs, then tightened up again. Still he didn’t say anything; that damn motto was too deeply ingrained. I didn’t have time to debrief him, so I just held on until his face took on the proper shade of purple.
“Our client isn’t a who,” he gasped, when I gave him room again. “It’s a what. Reliance is on permanent retainer from a coalition of major steel mills to maintain surveillance on United Steelhaulers at the executive level. Your conversation with Montana’s secretary today was monitored. What you said about Bingo Jefferson’s murder interested the brass. I was detailed to observe you.”
“You’ve got a tap on Montana’s telephone,” I said. “That’s illegal. Were you detailed to put the squeeze on me?”
The smoke from my cigarette made his eyes water. Fat tears rolled down his cheeks. He was growing younger before my eyes. “That was my idea. You won’t tell them.” His expression was pleading.
“Hell, they’d probably give you a raise for dedication to company policy. As long as a man like Montana heads up the union he’s a threat to the big mills. Your agency’s job is to get something on him that’ll make him easier to deal with. If he refuses, the mills can make it public, and if it’s bad enough the steelhaulers will take care of the problem for them. Reliance Investigations. ‘Sneakery, Perfidy, Skullduggery.’ Give me your wallet.”
I released him and stepped back. He stared, looking more afraid than he had when his throat was in my grasp. He had been reared in a family whose possessions meant more than eating and breathing.
“You’re right,” I said disgustedly. “This entire day was part of an elaborate scheme to separate you from your pocket change. The cops were in on it and so was Montana. The corpses were papier-mâché. My name isn’t even Walker. Under this clever disguise I’m actually Clifford Irving. Hand it over.”
He hesitated another beat, then fingered a black morocco billfold out of the inside breast pocket of his jacket and extended it. He carried less than fifty dollars, but there were enough credit cards in fold-out plastic windows to strangle a gorilla. That would be company policy as well; no cheating on expenses for a Reliance man. I lifted his photostat license, then out of curiosity unsnapped the photograph section and spent some time studying a picture of a petite-looking blonde in a light blue pleated blouse closed at the neck with a green brooch. She looked like eighteen trying to look twenty-one. Behind that was a snap of a pair of towheaded kids, boy and girl, splashing in a wading pool in a grassy backyard beside a garage with a basketball hoop mounted over the door. They might have been three and two. There were individual shots of each of them behind that, taken in a photographer’s studio. I looked up at Albert Gold.
“Yours?”
He craned his neck to see what I was referring to, then nodded. I thrust the wallet back at him savagely. There are a lot of things I don’t like about being single, but looking at pictures of someone else’s children is the worst. Besides, it made it harder for me not to like him.
He watched, horror-struck, as I tore his license into tiny pieces. “You won’t believe it,” I said, dusting the bits off my palms. “Maybe you never will, but I’m doing you a favor. Go back to Lansing and tell your boss you quit. Punch him in the nose if you feel like it, but first make sure there aren’t any witnesses
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