I never could figure out why people didn’t like the rain. A dull day, a little wet and it was growl time. Women brooded in tight little apartments tying up the telephones; husbands fidgeted on barstools, dragging out lunch hours into early hangovers; the few on the streets fought for taxicabs whose drivers seemed to take a sadistic satisfaction out of their predicament. Hell, the rain was nice. It cleaned things out. A good rain in New York was the city’s only mouthwash and it gargled happily and rumbled with pleasure as the garbage got spewed out down the drain.
At Park Avenue I turned north and walked a dozen blocks to the old Tritchett Building, found Chet Linden’s office number on the directory and took the elevator up to the sixth floor. He grinned when I walked in, waved me toward a chair, finished his phone conversation and swung around toward me. “Having trouble adjusting, Dog?”
“Catching up fast. The town sure has changed.”
“Not for the better.”
“That’s for sure,” I said. “When did you get in?”
“A week ago today. I miss London already. Get your ten grand yet?”
I pulled out my last cigarette and lit it. “There’s a morals clause attached to it.”
A slow laugh spread across his face. “And you can’t beat the rap?”
“Hardly.”
“That’s no statement for a quick thinker like you to make,” he said. “Besides, I still figure you for a nut to even bother with the deal.”
“Let’s say it’s a matter of principle.”
“Sure. You toss over the whole European operation to play games. Oh, not that we’re not properly appreciative, buddy. You handed us quite a nut, but I’m not so sure we like you entirely out of the picture. You were the iron fist in the velvet glove that kept everything greased. So far we haven’t found anybody who’s up to your ability.”
“How about Purcell?”
“Still got too many rough edges. Give him a year and he may mellow.”
“Montgomery?”
“We’re considering him. If he makes it on the new assignment he may get the spot. Incidentally, we picked up that other block of stock in Barrin from the Woodring kid. He was glad to dump it at the price. We made you a present of it, and as far as I know it’s the last of the stuff floating around. You know a Cross McMillan?”
“Uh-huh.”
“He had tracked it down too, but our price was higher and the kid sold before McMillan could raise the ante.” He stopped a moment, then stared at me, frowning. “You onto something, Dog?”
“Just my ten grand.”
“Somehow I get the feeling you’re holding a fungo bat with the bases loaded.”
“Let me have my fun, Chet.”
“Okay, clam. Just keep the repercussions down. Right now we don’t need any static. We got things fairly quiet on the Continent, John Bull has retired back into politics and you’re nothing but a legend now. That Mafia bunch had a housecleaning, a few mass funerals and even Interpol is sitting back smugly enjoying the scene no matter how it came off. If they only knew.”
“And we’re not telling, are we?” I asked him.
“Indeedy no, my crazy friend. The other side carries too much heavy artillery.” He rocked forward and leaned on his desk. “You going to be needing any of the contacts?”
“Unlikely, but keep them open for me.”
“That fungo bat’s getting longer.”
“No sweat, kid, it’s just that I’m used to thinking that way. Besides, you never know what’s going to turn up.”
“Yeah,” he growled sarcastically. “So what’s on the agenda?”
I looked at my watch and stretched out of my seat. “Little party tonight. Should be fun.”
“Your buddy Shay showing you the town?”
“He thinks I need reorienting.”
“Do you?”
“It’s not like the Old Country, Chet. They’ve screwed everything up back here. The broads...”
“All broads are alike, Dog.”
“The kind you pick are.”
“Lucky Linden, they call me. My little beauties never give me any trouble. Very clean, very quiet and very commercial. Now take you, what those classy dolls ever saw in you I just can’t figure. I’d think you’d scare them to death.”
“I got class.”
“You got more than that, but it’s something only the dames can smell.”
I grinned at him and snuffed the cigarette out. “Where’s that paper you want signed?”
He slid open the desk drawer, drew out three sheets of printed copy and pushed them toward me. “The dotted line, Dog. Three autographs and you’re on your own. If you do use any of the contacts, make damn sure it’s an emergency and one foul-up will leave you wide open. From here on in you’re out of the picture. Completely. This office is closing down today; the others have already moved. The old numbers and exchanges have been switched and our people have been informed that you’re nothing more than another Johnny-on-the-street.”
“The picture’s clear, Chet. I know the rules.”
“Maybe you forgot one, Dog.”
“What’s that?”
“They wanted you hit. The board was one vote shy of having you knocked off.”
“Yours, Chet?”
“Mine, Dog.”
“Why? I didn’t know you were that sentimental.”
“I’m not. I just didn’t want to see a lot of our good people go down before they finally tagged you. It was a case of choosing the lesser of two evils.”
I slapped my hat on and grinned at him, reaching for the door.
“Dog,” he said.
