“Buddy told me to come see you,” Nadelson said. “He wanted to warn you that there are FBI men all over Fort Lee questioning the guys in your units. You know, about paying to get in. They ask questions about you and about Frank Alcore. And your friend Alcore looks like he’s in big trouble. About twenty of the men have given evidence that they paid him off. Buddy says there will be a grand jury in New York to indict him in a couple of months. He doesn’t know about you. He wanted me to warn you to be careful about anything you say or do. And that if you need a lawyer, he’ll get one for you.”
For a moment I couldn’t even see him. The world had literally gone dark. I felt so sick that a wave of nausea almost made me throw up. My chair came forward. I had frantic visions of the disgrace, my being arrested, Value horrified, her father angry, my brother Artie’s shame and disappointment in me. It was no longer a happy lark, my revenge against society. But Nadelson was waiting for me to say something.
“Jesus Christ,” I said. “How did they get on to it? There hasn’t been any action since the recall. What put them on the track?”
Nadelson looked a little guilty for his fellow bribe givers. “Some of them were so pissed off about getting recalled they wrote anonymous letters to the FBI about paying money to enlist in the six months’ program. They wanted to get Alcore into trouble, they blamed him. Some of them were pissed off because he fought them when they tried to beat the recall.
And then down in camp he’s a very gung-ho sergeant major, and they don’t like that. So they wanted to get him into trouble, and they did.”
My mind was racing. It was nearly a year since I had seen Cully in Vegas and stashed my money. Meanwhile, I had accumulated another fifteen thousand dollars. Also, I was due to move into my new house in Long Island very soon. Everything was breaking at the worst possible time. And if the FBI were talking to everybody down at Fort Lee, they would at least be talking to over a hundred guys I had taken money from. How many of them would admit to paying me off?
“Is Stove sure there’s going to be a grand jury on Frank?” I asked Nadelson.
“There has to be,” Murray said. “Unless the government covers the whole thing up, you know, kicks it under the rug.”
“Any chance of that?” I asked.
Murray Nadelson shook his head. “No. But Buddy seems to think you may beat it. All the guys you had dealings with think you’re a good guy. You never pushed for money, like Alcore did. Nobody wants to get you in trouble, and Buddy is spreading the word down there not to get you involved.”
“Thank him for me,” I said.
Nadelson stood up and shook my hand. “I just want to thank you again,” he said. “If you should need a character witness to testify for you, or you want to refer the FBI to me, I’ll be waiting and do my best.”
I shook his hand. I really felt grateful. “Is there anything I can do for you?” I said. “Any chance of your being called up from the control group?”
“No,” Nadelson said. “I have a baby son, you remember. And my wife died two months ago. So I’m safe.”
I’ll never forget his face when he said this. The voice itself was filled with bitter self-loathing. And his face had on it a look of shame and hatred. He blamed himself for being alive. And yet there was nothing he could do except follow the course that life had laid out for him. To take care of his baby son, to go to work in the morning, to obey the request of a friend and come here to warn me and to speak a thanks to me for something I had done for him which he had felt important to him at the time and which really meant nothing to him now. I said I was sorry about his wife, I was a believer now all right, he was the real McCoy all right. I felt like shit for ever thinking that about him. And maybe he had saved that for the last because years ago, when he had kept his head down as Buddy Stove begged for him, he must have known that I thought they were both lying. It was a tiny revenge, and he was very welcome to it.
I spent a jittery week before the ax finally fell. It was on a Monday, and I was surprised when the major came into the office bright and early, for him, on a Monday. He gave me a funny look as he went on into his private office.
Punctually at ten two men walked in and asked for the major. I knew who they were right away. They were almost exactly according to literature and movies; dressed conservatively in suits and ties, wearing deadly Waspish fedoras. The older one was about forty-five with a craggy face that was calmly bored. The other one was just a little out of sync. He was much younger, and he had the tall, stringy physique of a nonathlete. Underneath his padded conservative suit was a very skinny frame. His face was just a little callow but handsome in a very good-natured way. I showed them into the major’s office. They were with him for about thirty minutes; then they came out and stood in front of my desk. The older one asked formally, “Are you John Merlyn?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Could we talk to you in a private room? We have your officer’s permission.”
I got up and led them into one of the rooms that served as a Reserve unit HQ on meeting nights. Both of them immediately flipped open their wallets to show green ID cards. The older one introduced himself. “I’m James Wallace of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. This is Tom Hannon.”
The guy named Hannon gave me a friendly smile. “We want to ask you a few questions. But you don’t have to answer them without consulting a lawyer. But if you do answer us, anything you say can be used against you. OK?”
“OK,” I said. I sat down at one end of the table, and they sat down, one on each side of the table so that I was sandwiched.
The older one, Wallace, asked, “Do you have any idea why we’re here?”
“No,” I said. I had made up my mind that I wouldn’t volunteer even one word, that I wouldn’t make any wisecracks.
That I wouldn’t put on any act. They would know I had an idea of why they were here, but so what?
Hannon said, “Do you of your own personal knowledge have any information you can give about Frank Alcore taking bribes from reservists for any reason whatsoever?”
“No,” I said. There was no expression on my face. I had made up my mind not to be an actor. No starts of surprise, no smiles, nothing that could spur additional questions or attacks. Let them think I was covering for a friend. That would be normal even if I were not guilty.
Harmon said, “Have you ever taken money from any reservist for any reason whatsoever?”
“No,” I said.
Wallace said very slowly, very deliberately, “You know all about this. You enlisted young men subject to the draft only when they paid you certain sums of money to do so. You know that you and Frank Alcore manipulated those lists. If you deny this, you are lying to a federal officer, and that is a crime. Now I ask you again, have you ever taken money or any other inducement to favor the enlistment of one individual over the other?”
“No,” I said.
Hannon laughed suddenly. “We have your buddy Frank Alcore nailed. We have testimony that you two were partners. And that maybe you were in league with other civilian administrators or even officers in this building to solicit bribes. If you talk to us and tell us all you know, it could be a lot better for you.”
There hadn’t been any question, so I just looked at him and didn’t answer.
Suddenly Wallace said in his calm, even voice, “We know you’re the kingpin of this operation.” And then for the first time I broke my rules. I laughed. It was so natural a laugh that they couldn’t take offense. In fact, I saw Harmon smile a little.
The reason I laughed was the word “kingpin.” For the first time the whole thing struck me as something right out of a grade B movie. And I laughed because I had expected Hannon to say something like that, he looked callow enough. I had thought Wallace was the dangerous man, maybe because he was obviously in charge.