The Rat Race
Chapter 13

Public Domain

Merry Vail listened to my account of the encounter with the Inter-Alia gang and then rolled his eyes toward heaven.

“Poor old Winnie!” he expostulated. “Why didn’t you try something comparatively safe, like robbing a she bear of her whelps or yelling ‘Hurray for Hitler’ in Union Square? Harry Willamer is a vindictive guy and his aunt or his mother-in-law is related to Jesse Jones. At least that’s what the Street believes.”

“What can he do to me?” I asked. “I have him cold on a charge of blackmail.”

“Like hell you do!” said Merry. “First thing he’ll check with the F.B.I. to find out if there is a recording of your talk. And there isn’t. So it’s your word and Tammy’s against that of four high-ranking government officials. You ask what they can do to you? You just call Phil Cone at your office and see if they haven’t started doing it already.”

The steward made the phone connection and in a few minutes Cone’s languid voice was complaining over the wire.

“Say, Winnie, what the hell have you been up to?”

“Nothing, Phil. Why?” I asked.

“It’s just that the word’s been passed to lay off Tompkins, Wasson & Cone. The brokers don’t want to handle our orders. You know Manny Oppenheimer of Auchincloss, Morton, Caton, Beauregard & Oppenheimer? You know how he used to lick your boots if you stood still long enough for him to kneel down and stick his tongue out? Well, Manny cut me. Yeah, that’s right. Cut me! What’s cooking? Even my best friends won’t tell me whether it’s B.O. or dishpan hands.”

“Just keep on plugging, Phil,” I urged. “They can’t refuse to handle our orders if we insist. I’ll put in some calls on this ... Yeah, I’m up at the Pond Club with my attorney ... I’ll try to call you back. That guy Willamer is back of this because I wouldn’t go along with his proposition.”

“Oh-oh!” Phil observed dismally. “That’s enough for me. Think I’d better join the Marines?”

“You keep away from the recruiting-sergeant until we finish this operation,” I told him.

I turned to Vail. “Merry,” I said, “this is one for you to handle. Brokers are trying to get out of handling our orders and tenth-raters like Manny Oppenheimer are high-hatting Phil Cone. You put in a call and find out what it’s all about.”

Vail meditated. “Okay,” he said at last. “You understand I’m acting as your attorney now?”

“Sure,” I agreed.

He dialed a number. “I’d like to speak to the U.S. Attorney’s office,” he told the switch-board operator. “Yes, I’ll wait ... Yes ... Oh, Ned? ... This is Merry Vail. I’ve been retained by Winfred Tompkins. What I want to know is whether there are any charges against him ... Yeah, he’s with me now ... No, he won’t try to leave town. Suspicion of kidnapping? ... No fooling? ... That’s cockeyed ... Listen, counselor, my client is innocent and stands ready to answer all charges--”

He turned to me. “Hell, he hung up!”

“What was that about kidnapping?” I asked.

“Oh, something completely screw-ball,” my attorney said. “It’s only that his office has received an anonymous charge accusing you of having kidnapped Winnie Tompkins and masquerading in his place. Ned also told me you were in trouble with other governmental agencies and said he’d see me in court.”

“Damn!” I objected. “That sounds like Virginia Rutherford’s idea of a snappy way to find out where I was before Easter. It doesn’t make sense. If I kidnapped Tompkins, who am I supposed to be? I’m ready to take a finger-print test any time, even with these bandages on my right hand.”

Vail clucked his tongue. “That attitude won’t help,” he said. “If you don’t look out they’ll say your prints prove that you’re the man who kidnapped Charley Ross. No, Ned is full of prunes and he doesn’t put much stock in this kidnapping angle, but the wolves are after you all right. Now I’ve passed the word, you can’t leave the State, of course.”

“Damn you, Merry,” I objected. “I never told you--”

“You retained me, Winnie. That’s enough. You’d be a damn fool to pull out now. Every G-man in America would be after you. My advice is to stick around. Today’s the eleventh, Wednesday. Well, you have a week-end coming up, so you might just as well go on commuting between your office and Bedford Hills as be pulled off the fast freight at Oneonta.”

“Damn that Rutherford woman!” I remarked. “She is the one who turned me in to the District Attorney. Up to now I’ve just had a few friendly passes from a nice guy from the F.B.I.”

“I can’t advise you on the subject of your sex life,” Vail said. “But you have nothing to fear if you remember to cultivate a clean-cut manly expression and an air of amazed innocence as you tell the Judge, ‘Not guilty, your Honor, and I reserve my defense.’”

“What shall I tell Phil Cone, though?” I asked.

“Wait a minute and I’ll put in another call,” Vail said. He dialed another number. “I want to speak to Joe,” he said. “Yes. Joe. Tell him it’s Merry Vail ... Joe, this is Merry ... Same to you. Say, what’s all this b.s. about Winnie Tompkins ... Oh ... the hell you say! ... I don’t believe ... No, that’s definitely not true ... If it was anybody but you, Joe, I’d advise him to sue for libel ... Yeah, he’s my client ... Of course he’s innocent ... Lay you five-to-one in thousands he is ... Done!”

Vail turned back to me. “That was the chief fixer in New York,” he told me. “His word is good. This kidnapping charge is a phony. Just a move to tie you up. What they think they have on you is a charge under the Espionage Act, communicating with the enemy. Joe was vague but it sounded plenty tough. The S.E.C.’s passed out word to be cagey in trading with you. They can’t black-list you or freeze your funds without a hearing, but they sure can put on the heat. How much did Willamer want you to put into his racket?”

“Half a million,” I told him. “One hundred thousand now and the rest in thirty days.”

Merry Vail drew a wry face, sucked in his lips and signaled to Tammy for another drink. “As a member of the Bar and an officer of the court,” he remarked, “I can’t advise you to pay blackmail. On the other hand, if you could see your way to making a substantial investment in the Inter-Alia Corporation, it might make things much pleasanter all around.”

I shook my head. “No, Merry,” I told him, “and you are through as my attorney. I’ll take my chances without a lawyer from now on, if that’s the sort of advice I pay you for. I don’t mind a gamble but these boys figure to use malaria to put a financial squeeze on the whole world. Ever see a man die of malignant malaria, Merry? It’s not nice and it’s not necessary, if you have atabrine or quinine. No, damn it, you go peddle your papers and I’ll fight this out alone. Tammy,” I added. “Get me the office, please. I want to talk to Mr. Cone again.”

 
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