‘Thanks.’
The note was in his box. It read: ‘I lucked out. Found a young pilot willing to fly me to Tokyo tonight. You get the big story, I get the tapes. Seems fair, doesn’t it? By the way, would you mind returning the van to Howe/Tokyo. Thanks. See you in Boston. xxx E.’
He handed it to the Magician.
‘Well, I’ll be goddamned,’ the Magician said, and he started laughing. ‘She scooped yuh, pal!’
Charles Gordon Howe wheeled himself into his spacious office overlooking the Haymarket. It had been a busy day, thanks to his two top reporters, and a fruitful one. The fire at Dragon’s Nest had attracted news coverage, but Hooker’s death got most of the space. All that did was whet everyone’s appetite for the whole story, and they had it all. Eliza was coming on with a fifteen-minute news special. She had been editing it all night. He’d get a huge share on the news tonight. And O’Hara was on his way back with a front-page banner for the Star. All the fine details. The old man leaned back in his wheelchair and stroked his chin.
Excellent.
Eliza’s bright face popped on the set, but it was wearing a serious expression. Nothing light.
‘Good evening,’ she began, ‘this is Eliza Gunn, Six O’Clock News—’
‘Don’t worry, she’ll do a helluva job.’
Howe recognized the voice immediately. It came from a dark corner of the office, back among the plants.
O’Hara stepped out into the light.
‘You scared the bedevil outa me there, Lieutenant. What the hell’re you doing hiding back there among the goddamn shrubs?’
‘I was hanging boxes in the air.’
‘What?’
‘It’s an old Zen trick. Really nothing more than logic.’
‘Is that right?’ Howe said. He was watching the television set, almost leering as his star reporter described the operation known as Master and its perpetrators.
‘There’s a lot more to it than she has,’ O’Hara said.
‘There’s nothing wrong with the stuff she’s got.’
‘Tip of the iceberg.’
‘Well, can it wait until this is over, sir?’ Howe was getting annoyed. ‘Every station in the country’s gonna want to pick this up. How far along are you on your yarn?’
‘It’s finished.’
‘Great. Let’s just see what she does with the story and then we’ll talk about you — okay, m’boy?’
‘I want to talk now.’
‘Goddammit, after the show, Lieutenant, after the show.’ ‘It won’t wait.’ He switched off the television set. Howe looked up and scowled. ‘I beg your damn pardon?’ ‘It won’t wait. You can watch this later, on tape. Garvey spilled his guts. In fact, he’s probably still spilling them, only I’ve got enough to suit me. We can leave the rest to the historians.’
‘Garvey? Which one was he?’
‘He was the man called Quill. He picked the assignments.’
‘Magnificent. Goddamn, man, you’ve broken one of the biggest stories of the century. Now can we just turn the damn
TV—’
O’Hara cut him off. ‘Not we. Me. I’ve got the story.’
‘That’s the way, lad. By God, we’ll tear up the Star and give you the whole front page. Now, if you don’t—’
‘No. It isn’t going to work that way.’
Howe began to get interested. 1-us mind shifted from the television set. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean, you don’t get it both ways.’
‘Both ways?’ Howe was genuinely stumped.
‘Sure. Look at the way it’s sizing up. They can pin the takeovers on the little squids out in Texas who were in on the plan from the beginning. The ones that told them who to kill, who was strong and who was weak in the companies. It’s called conspiracy, although they’ll probably end up doing time in some government country club, like the Nixon bunch did.’
Howe shook his head. ‘I still don’ t—’
‘The way I figure it, Hooker’s dead. Garvey and a couple of Texas millionaires are in for a lot of grief. One hell of
