front page.”
Johnson scowled. “Horrible lot you newspaper guys,” he said.
“Do you know how many girls have been reported missing this year?” Jay asked.
Johnson shook his head. “Not my department,” he said promptly. “You want the Missing People's Bureau.
You lost someone?”
Jay shook his head. “I was wonderin', Johnson, if there's anythin' in this White Slave rumour I've heard about.”
Johnson laughed. “Not a word,” he said. “You think about it for a moment and you'll see that there can't be anythin' in it.”
“You tell me. It'll save my energies.”
Johnson spread himself over his desk and folded his arms on his blotter. “It's like these rape cases we get,” he explained. “It ain't possible to rape a woman against her will. In the same way, it ain't possible to keep a woman in prostitution against her will in a big city like this. Sooner or later we should hear complaints. Guys that go to these houses would report that a woman was being held against her will. But we never hear of them.
Obviously, the women are in the game for what they get out of it, and the stories we hear about Slaving is so much junk.”
Jay considered this. “Suppose these women were terrorized?” he said. “How about that?”
Johnson shook his head. “Too risky,” he said. “We'd give them protection if they wanted to squawk. All they have to do is to walk in here, lodge a complaint, and we'd look after them until an investigation's been made.”
“Suppose they can't get out?” Jay persisted.
Johnson frowned. “What you hintin' at?” he demanded. “Do you know anythin'?”
Jay shook his head. “Nope,” he confessed; “but I'm interested. I believe that a woman could be terrorized into prostitution, and I'm lookin' into it from this angle. I may be wrong, but if I ain't, I'm going to keep you mighty busy bookin' the heels who run the racket.”
“You're wasting your time,” Johnson said. “What you want is an excuse to play around with undesirable floosies. I bet part of your investigation will be meetin' and talkin' to these dames.”
Jay shook his head. “I'm serious, Johnson,” he said. “You wait and see. If I do strike on anythin' you'd better get ready for some heavy work.”
A police officer came in, followed by Benny Perminger. The officer went up to Johnson. “This guy thinks we've got his wife in gaol,” he said. “Will you speak to him?”
Johnson looked at Benny doubtfully. “What's the trouble?” he demanded.
Benny was looking scared. “I'm Ben Perminger,” he said. “I want to see my wife.”
Johnson closed his mouth into a thin line. “I ain't stoppin' you,” he said coldly. “She ain't here.”
“Well, where have you taken her?”
“What is all this?”
Benny began to look bewildered. “Well, I don't know,” he said. “I found this note when I got home.” He gave Johnson a slip of paper.
Jay sat up on the bench and watched all this with interest. He smelt a news story.
Johnson read the note and handed it back. “There's no one of the name of Perminger booked last night. We didn't pull anyone in from that address. I guess she's havin' a game with you.”
Benny stood staring at the note. “Maybe they didn't bring her here. Could they take her anywhere else?”
“There's the station on West 47th Street. I'll ask them.” Johnson pulled the phone towards him and put the enquiry through. After a short wait he shook his head and hung up. “No, they don't know anythin' about it.”
Benny began to sweat. “What am I goin' to do?” he asked.
Johnson was getting bored with him. “It's your wife, buddy,” he said. “Most like she's havin' a little game with you. You go back home. You'll find her waitin' for you.”
Benny turned away from the desk and moved slowly towards the door.
Johnson looked at Jay. “That guy's got a leak in his conk,” he said under his breath.
Jay got up and followed Benny out of the station house, ignoring
Johnson scowled. “Horrible lot you newspaper guys,” he said.
“Do you know how many girls have been reported missing this year?” Jay asked.
Johnson shook his head. “Not my department,” he said promptly. “You want the Missing People's Bureau.
You lost someone?”
Jay shook his head. “I was wonderin', Johnson, if there's anythin' in this White Slave rumour I've heard about.”
Johnson laughed. “Not a word,” he said. “You think about it for a moment and you'll see that there can't be anythin' in it.”
“You tell me. It'll save my energies.”
Johnson spread himself over his desk and folded his arms on his blotter. “It's like these rape cases we get,” he explained. “It ain't possible to rape a woman against her will. In the same way, it ain't possible to keep a woman in prostitution against her will in a big city like this. Sooner or later we should hear complaints. Guys that go to these houses would report that a woman was being held against her will. But we never hear of them.
Obviously, the women are in the game for what they get out of it, and the stories we hear about Slaving is so much junk.”
Jay considered this. “Suppose these women were terrorized?” he said. “How about that?”
Johnson shook his head. “Too risky,” he said. “We'd give them protection if they wanted to squawk. All they have to do is to walk in here, lodge a complaint, and we'd look after them until an investigation's been made.”
“Suppose they can't get out?” Jay persisted.
Johnson frowned. “What you hintin' at?” he demanded. “Do you know anythin'?”
Jay shook his head. “Nope,” he confessed; “but I'm interested. I believe that a woman could be terrorized into prostitution, and I'm lookin' into it from this angle. I may be wrong, but if I ain't, I'm going to keep you mighty busy bookin' the heels who run the racket.”
“You're wasting your time,” Johnson said. “What you want is an excuse to play around with undesirable floosies. I bet part of your investigation will be meetin' and talkin' to these dames.”
Jay shook his head. “I'm serious, Johnson,” he said. “You wait and see. If I do strike on anythin' you'd better get ready for some heavy work.”
A police officer came in, followed by Benny Perminger. The officer went up to Johnson. “This guy thinks we've got his wife in gaol,” he said. “Will you speak to him?”
Johnson looked at Benny doubtfully. “What's the trouble?” he demanded.
Benny was looking scared. “I'm Ben Perminger,” he said. “I want to see my wife.”
Johnson closed his mouth into a thin line. “I ain't stoppin' you,” he said coldly. “She ain't here.”
“Well, where have you taken her?”
“What is all this?”
Benny began to look bewildered. “Well, I don't know,” he said. “I found this note when I got home.” He gave Johnson a slip of paper.
Jay sat up on the bench and watched all this with interest. He smelt a news story.
Johnson read the note and handed it back. “There's no one of the name of Perminger booked last night. We didn't pull anyone in from that address. I guess she's havin' a game with you.”
Benny stood staring at the note. “Maybe they didn't bring her here. Could they take her anywhere else?”
“There's the station on West 47th Street. I'll ask them.” Johnson pulled the phone towards him and put the enquiry through. After a short wait he shook his head and hung up. “No, they don't know anythin' about it.”
Benny began to sweat. “What am I goin' to do?” he asked.
Johnson was getting bored with him. “It's your wife, buddy,” he said. “Most like she's havin' a little game with you. You go back home. You'll find her waitin' for you.”
Benny turned away from the desk and moved slowly towards the door.
Johnson looked at Jay. “That guy's got a leak in his conk,” he said under his breath.
Jay got up and followed Benny out of the station house, ignoring
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