barracks to report our misfortune, which I did, knowing that Saul and Ruth were safely out of the county; but I couldn't expect the guy to be very talkative when he was busy recovering after an expert operation by Ruth Brady. I couldn't make up my mind whether he had been sitting beside me in silent sympathy with a fellow sufferer or had merely decided that the time for dealing with me would have to come later, after his brain had got back to something like normal.
The clock on the dash said 1.12 as I turned into the garage on Eleventh Avenue.
Taking the caribou bag, but leaving the other stuff in the trunk, I didn't feel too bad as I rounded the corner into Thirty-fifth Street and headed for our stoop. I was a lot better prepared to face Wolfe than I had been all day, and my head was now clear and comfortable. The week-end hadn't been a washout after all, except that I was coming home hungry, and as I mounted the stoop I was looking forward to a session m the kitchen, knowing what to expect in the refrigerator kept stocked by Wolfe and Fritz Brenner.
I inserted the key and turned the knob, but the door would open only two inches.
That surprised me, since when I am out and expected home it is not customary for Fritz or Wolfe to put on the chain bolt except on special occasions. I pushed the button, and in a moment the stoop light went on and Fritz's voice came through the crack.
“That you, Archie?” That was odd too, since through the one-way glass panel he had a good view of me. But I humoured him and told him it really was me, and he let me in. After I crossed the threshold he shut the door and replaced the bolt, and then I had a third surprise. It was past Wolfe's bedtime, but there he was in the door to the office, glowering at me.
I told him good evening. “Quite a reception I get,” I added. “Why the barricade?
Someone been trying to swipe an orchid?” I turned to Fritz. “I'm so damn hungry I could even eat your cooking.” I started for the kitchen, but Wolfe's voice stopped me.
“Come in here,” he commanded. “Fritz, will you bring in a tray?” Another oddity. I followed him into the office. As I was soon to learn, he had news that he would have waited up all night to tell me, but something I had said had pushed it aside for the moment. No concern at all, not even life or death, could be permitted to shove itself ahead of food. As he lowered himself into the chair behind his desk he demanded, “Why are you so hungry? Doesn't Mr Sperling feed his guests?” “Sure.” I sat. “There's nothing wrong with the grub, but they put something in the drinks that takes your appetite. It's a long story. Want to hear it tonight?” “No.” He looked at the clock. “But I must. Go ahead.” I obliged. I was still getting the characters introduced when Fritz came with the tray, and I bit into a sturgeon sandwich and went on. I could tell from Wolfe's expression that for some reason anything and everything would be welcome, and I let him have it all. By the time I finished it was after two o'clock, the tray had been cleaned up except for a little milk in the pitcher, and Wolfe knew all that I knew, leaving out a few little personal details.
I emptied the pitcher into the glass. “So I guess Sperling's hunch was good and he really is a Commie. With a picture of the card and the assortment I got of Rony, I should think you could get that lined up by that character who has appeared as Mr Jones on our expense list now and then. He may not actually be Uncle Joe's nephew, but he seems to be at least a deputy in the Union Square Politburo. Can't you get him to research it?” Fritz had brought another tray, with beer, and Wolfe poured the last of the second bottle.
“I could, yes.” He drank and put the glass down. “But it would be a waste of Mr Sperling's money. Even if that is Mr Rony's card and he is a party member, as he well may be, I suspect that it is merely a masquerade.” He wiped his lips. “I have no complaint of your performance, Archie, which was in character, and I should know your character; and I can't say you transgressed your instructions, since you had a free hand, but you might have phoned before assuming the risks of banditry.” “Really.” I was sarcastic. “Excuse me, but since when have you invited constant contact on a little job like tripping up a would-be bridegroom?” “I haven't. But you were aware that another factor had entered, or at least been admitted as conjecture. It is no longer conjecture. You didn't phone me, but someone else did. A man-a voice you are acquainted with. So am I.” “You mean Arnold Zeck?” “No name was pronounced. But it was that voice. As you know, it is unmistakable.” “What did he have to say?” “Neither was Mr Rony's name pronounced, nor Mr Sperling's. But he left no room for dubiety. In effect I was told to cease forthwith any inquiry into the activities or interests of Mr Rony or suffer penalties.” “What did you have to say?” “I-demurred.” Wolfe tried to pour beer, found the bottle was empty, and set it down. “His tone was more peremptory than it was the last time I heard it, and I didn't fully conceal my resentment. I stated my position in fairly strong terms.
He ended with an ultimatum. He gave me twenty-four hours to recall you from your week-end.” “He knew I was up there?” “Yes.” “I'll be damned.” I let out a whistle. “This Rony boy is really something. A party member and one of Mr Z's little helpers-which isn't such a surprising combination, at that. And not only have I laid hands on him, but Saul and Ruth have too. Goddam it! I'll have to-when did this phone call come?” “Yesterday afternoon-” Wolfe glanced up at the clock. “Saturday, at ten minutes past six.” Then his ultimatum expired eight hours ago and we're still breathing. Even so, it wouldn't have hurt to get time out for changing our signals. Why didn't you phone me and I could-” “Shut up!” I lifted the brows. Why?” “Because even if we are poltroons cowering in a corner, we might have the grace not to talk like it! I reproach you for not phoning. You reproach me for not phoning. It is only common prudence to keep the door bolted, but there is no possible-” That may not have been his last syllable, but if he got one more in I didn't hear it. I have heard a lot of different noises here and there, and possibly one or two as loud as the one that interrupted Wolfe and made me jump out of my chair halfway across the room, but nothing much like it. To reproduce it you could take a hundred cops, scatter them along the block you live in, and have them start unanimously shooting windows with forty-fives.
Then complete silence.
Wolfe said something.
I grabbed a gun from a drawer, ran to the hall, flipped the switch for the stoop light, removed the chain bolt, opened the door, and stepped out. Across the street to the left two windows went up, and voices came and heads poked out, but the street was deserted. Then I saw that I wasn't standing on the stone of the stoop but on a piece of glass, and if I didn't like that piece there were plenty of others. They were all over the stoop, the steps, the area-way, and the sidewalk. I looked straight up, and another piece came flying down, missed me by a good inch, and crashed and tinkled at my feet. I backed across the sill, shut the door, and turned to face Wolfe, who was standing in the hall looking bewildered.
“He took it out on the orchids,” I stated. “You stay here. I'll go up and look.”
As I went up the stairs three at a time I heard the sound of the elevator. He must have moved fast. Fritz was behind me but couldn't keep up. The top landing, which was walled with concrete tile and plastered, was intact. I flipped the light switch and opened the door to the first plant room, the warm room, but I stopped after one step in because there was no light. I stood for five seconds, waiting for my eyes to adjust, and by then Wolfe and Fritz were behind me.
“Let me get by,” Wolfe growled like a dog ready to spring.
