much, there is much yet to accomplish.'
'I know,' Ness nodded with a sour smile. 'There's still corruption on the force. We still have gambling, policy… labor racketeering. None of it is gone.'
'Strides have been made,' Burton said. 'Remarkable strides. And your deams of modernizing the force, of putting a patrol car within a half-minute of any home in the city, of reorganization of the traffic bureau, of instituting a juvenile delinquency unit… we need to make them come true. I have a great belief in your theories, and their practical application, Eliot.'
'I appreciate that, sir.'
'But the sad truth is, we have an election coming up.'
Ness smiled. 'You'll take that in a walk.'
'It's not that simple. I'm running on the Republican ticket, but I'm perceived, correctly, as an independent. I'm going to be up against four challengers in the primary race, Eliot.'
'Well, if there's anything I can do…'
'We'll get to that. You have to understand that for me to win I need more than just the support of the people. I need the support of the business community.'
'You've had that in the past,' Ness said. 'I probably know that better than anybody.'
'Yes, you do. The industrialists, the merchants, who came through with private funding for so much of the work you've accomplished, who've kept our slush fund full, have to be convinced that we're still worth backing. That we're not going to embarrass them and the community.'
Ness frowned. 'I don't understand… our successes have gotten us attention all over the country. The world! I've got clippings in my scrapbook from as far away as…'
Burton lifted a hand, gently. 'Yesterday's news, as your friend Mr. Wild might say.'
Ness thought about that, darkly.
'The Butcher,' Ness said.
'The Butcher,' Burton agreed, sighing. 'What the world knows about Cleveland right now is that we have America's answer to Jack the Ripper stalking our streets. And our police department can't seem to do a thing about it.'
'We're being made to look ineffectual by this maniac.'
'You haven't been tarnished by it, personally. Everyone knows you have your own staff of investigators, that you've hired outside investigators'-that was one of the major reasons for seeking slush-funding from the business community-'that from time to time you do your own investigating. You've managed to stay aloof from the… embarrassment.'
Ness said nothing, his expression an understated scowl.
'I know you care deeply about this case,' Burton said. 'I'm well aware that you, personally, arranged to have those 'death masks' shown at the expo. At a midway attraction, no less…'
Ness bristled. 'Hundreds of thousands of people-maybe millions of people-will walk by those dead faces. And maybe one of those people will make an identification.'
'But Eliot-a carnival tent?'
'I tried eleswhere, Ness said tightly.' Don't think I didn't. I was blocked at every turn-even the U.S. government building, with their crime prevention section, where I thought I had connections, turned me away. The display was found too… unpleasant. Bad for the image of the expo, of the city. Well, having that son of a bitch at large is bad for the image of the city, too.'
Burton smiled gently, touched the shoulder of the younger man. 'Son of a bitch' was about as rough as the safety director's language got; the expression was a gage of how deep his concern really ran.
'I've taken some heat,' Burton admitted, 'for the damage you've done the city's 'image.' The movers and shakers in our community hardly find a display of death masks of the victims of the Mad Butcher of Kingsbury Run a positive contribution to the public's perception of our fair city. On the other hand, I agree with your decision to have the masks shown.'
'You do?'
'I do. I only wish you had spoken to me-I might have been able to arrange a more… dignified exhibition hall.'
'I'm sorry, I-'
'Never mind. But you have to understand the displeasure of our financial 'angels.' Attendance at the expo this year has fallen off drastically. Shopping downtown is similarly well below last year's mark. This new discovery of yet another Butcher casualty, just a month after the last such discovery, is hardly going to help pull people our way, either.'
A twitch of irritation tugged Ness's cheek. 'It's silly,' he said. 'The Butcher strikes exclusively at the poor homeless bastards of the Run, of the worst sections of the Flats. The average expo attendee hardly has any-'
'Eliot, you're looking at it like a policeman. Look at it as if you were still living in Chicago. Let's say you're in the insurance business. You're looking for someplace to take mom and the kids for a summer holiday. You start thumbing through the Sunday paper, to look for travel ideas, and you come across a story about the discovery of victim number nine of the mad headhunter who is stalking Cleveland's streets.'
Ness smirked humorlessly, shrugged. 'I guess I wouldn't be taking the next bus here, at that.'
'Exactly. That's why I have to ask-propose-that you consider taking this risk.
'Whatever it is, ask.'
'I want you to take over.'
'Take over?'
'The investigation. I want you to turn your desk over to your executive assistant and make the Butcher your top personal priority.'
Ness grinned. 'Hot damn! Is that what this is about? Why do you think I made the appointment with you? I wanted to request this goddamn case!'
Ness was laughing and shaking his head, but Burton smiled uneasily and patted the air with his palms.
'Eliot-it's not that simple. We would enter this arena with the same fanfare as before. We would put you and your reputation on the line. The man who got Capone sets out to become the man who gets the Butcher. That sort of thing.'
Ness, still smiling, nodded. 'I see no problem with that.'
'You don't? What if you fail?'
'Fail?' he said. As if the possibility had never occurred to him.
Burton shook his head woefully. 'If I lose the primary-or if I win but then lose the election that follows- there's very little chance my successor would hold you over. Not if you go on the line by making the Butcher your personal meat, as it were, only to have the killings continue.'
Ness nodded matter-of-factly.
'And frankly,' Burton said, 'even if I do win, I might be pressured to get a new safety director. If you've been made to look.. well…'
'Stupid?' Ness was grinning. 'Ineffective?'
'Well, yes. Pick your own disparaging adjective, if you like.'
'I'll tell you what I'd like,' Ness said, and his grin was gone. 'I'd like to stop the killing. I'd like to stop fishing arms and legs out of rivers, to stop finding the remains of human beings scattered like so many cuts of beef across the godforsaken landscape of the Run. I'd like to put that evil bastard, whoever he is, in the electric chair.'
Burton laughed shortly. 'When would you like to start trying?'
'I already have,' Ness said, and began walking down the gentle slope to the edge of the river where Merlo, Curry, and the uniformed cop, and two dismembered arms awaited.
CHAPTER 4
The Torso Clinic, as the press came to call it, met at seven the next evening in the ballistics lab on the second floor of the Central Police Station. Shortly before seven, grave-looking men began filing into the stark, high-
