department.
It was on the main floor of the building, and occupied an entire wing. A long counter, facing the entrance door stretched the length of it. A series of cages similar to those in banks fronted on the counter.
It was nine o'clock when I arrived, but no one was there. Finally, at a quarter after nine, an auto- license clerk entered his cage and pointed out Fleming's office to me.
I went down the aisle to a door at the end. It opened into a reception room with an immense executive-type desk and a white-leather upholstered lounge with matching chairs. I knocked on a door marked 'Private' and tried the knob. I sat down in one of the chairs and lighted a cigarette.
The nearest ash tray stood by the desk. I'd got up to move it over by me when the door behind me opened and a woman bustled in breathlessly. She was about fifty, trim, sharp-featured.
'What are you doing here?' she demanded. And before I could answer, she had pushed around me and was trying the drawers of the desk.
'Anything missing?' I said.
'What do you want?'
'I was supposed to see Mr. Fleming about a job,' I said. 'I'm Patrick Cosgrove.'
She gave me a tight-lipped smile. 'I'm Mr. Fleming's secretary. I don't remember his mentioning your name.'
'Senator Burkman spoke to him about it.'
'Oh,' her face cleared, '
'When will Mr. Fleming be in?' I asked.
'I'm not sure that he can see you when he does come in. Oh, well, drop back in an hour or so if you like. I'll see what I can do.'
I thanked her and left, far from happy with the situation. I thought I'd better talk things over with Doc before I went back to Fleming's office, and I went down to the restaurant, hoping to catch him there.
He wasn't there and neither was Burkman. I was on the point of leaving when Hardesty hailed me. He was alone at his table.
'How are you, Pat?' He arose beaming, and shook hands. 'Sit right down. Out pretty early, aren't you? Are you by yourself?'
'I didn't think it was early,' I said. 'But I guess it is. I was looking for Doc.'
'He's tied up. Anything I can do?'
'It's about the job I was supposed to have. I thought I had one with the highway department, but I'm not sure now.'
'Well, now,' he smiled reassuringly. 'That won't do at all. Tell me about it.'
'Mr. Fleming wasn't in his office, and his secretary practically threw me out. She told me I could come back later, but I got the impression that it wouldn't do me much good.'
'Let's see-Burkman was sponsoring you, wasn't he? Hmm, that's not so good.'
'You don't think I'll get a job?'
'Oh, yes. You'll get your job. I was just thinking of the matter, uh, objectively.' He nodded his head. 'Fleming's over there a few tables. We'll tag him when he starts out.'
'Thanks very much,' I said. 'I was getting pretty worried.'
'Glad to do it. No trouble at all.' He stirred his coffee, thoughtfully, smiling his warm, confident smile. 'Quite a little fracas we had yesterday, eh, Pat?'
'I'm sorry about that,' I said. 'I'll see that nothing of the kind happens again.'
'Oh, I'm not blaming you for it. But I couldn't help feeling a little annoyed with Doc. After all, I did just about as much work on your parole as he did. He should have told you about me beforehand.'
'I suppose you're right,' I said carefully.
'One serious misstep, something of the kind that happened yesterday, for example, and Doc or no one else could save you from going back to Sandstone. For that matter, Doc himself…'
'Yes?' I said.
'Oh, well, I probably shouldn't say anything like that.'
He might as well have said it: that Doc himself might take a notion to have me returned to prison.
'Why don't you drop up to my office sometime, Pat? I think you and I have a great many things to talk about.'
'I'll be glad to come,' I said.
'Good!' he smiled. 'Well, here comes your man. Fleming! Just a moment.'
A tall fat man turned slowly away from a group that was starting for the door, and looked at us sourly. Hardesty took me by the elbow and drew me forward.
'Mr. Fleming, I want you to shake hands with Pat Cosgrove,' he said, heartily. 'Pat's supposed to go to work in your department, you know.'
'Work?' Fleming took the cigar out of his mouth, and barely touched my hand with fat, hard fingers. 'Don't you ever look at the calendar, Hardesty?'
Hardesty laughed. 'Pat's a good friend of Burkman's. The senator spoke to you about him.'
'Burkman's a goddam nuisance,' said Fleming, and annoyed remembrance flickered in his small eyes.
'Pat's all set and rarin' to go,' said Hardesty jovially. 'Would you like to talk to him here or up in your office?'
The fat man grunted. 'Office. See Rita.' Without another word, he turned and rolled slowly away.
'That's his secretary,' Hardesty explained. 'Rita Kennedy. Fleming will have called her by the time you get there.'
'It's all settled?' I said.
'Sure, she'll fix you up.' He slapped me on the back. 'I'll have to run, now. Don't forget that other matter.'
'I'll remember,' I said.
I went back to Fleming's office, not feeling any too sure of myself. But the moment I stepped through the door I knew the job was mine. Rita Kennedy was hardly effusive, but she gave me one of her tightlipped smiles and motioned for me to draw a chair up to the desk.
'All right, Pat,' she said briskly, drawing a heavy manila folder from her desk. 'I believe we're all organized, now. Here are your gasoline mileage books, and these are your daily-expense blanks-you're allowed one dollar per meal-and this is your car requisition card. You know where the state garage is-just two blocks south?'
'Yes, ma'am,' I said. 'But-'
'Oh, yes. I knew there was something I'd forgotten. Excuse me a moment.'
She got up, locked the drawer of the desk, and bustled into the main offices. In a minute or two she was back with a thick stack of mimeographed sheets covered with writing and figures.
'These are the survey forms, Pat. You use one for each day. You can turn them in, as many as you complete, every three or four days.'
'I see,' I nodded. 'But what am I supposed to do with them, Miss Kennedy?'
'Keep your mouth shut and don't leave your car parked too long in front of beer joints. The newspapers have given us some awful ridings about stuff of that kind.'
'But… oh,' I said.
'You should kick.' She smiled faintly, easing me toward the door. 'Don't forget what I said about the beer joints.'
'I'll remember,' I said.
