«Also,» said the inheritor of the Smythington-Fontini multinational companies, «where else could so many of us turn? He’s an extremely patriotic American. He realizes every defense project on every drawing board in the country must be approved, no matter how questionable it may appear, for in the attempts, there’s always valuable … research, yes, research.»
«Here, here!»
«Here, here—»
«Well,» broke in Secretary of State Pease, holding up a trembling right hand that he instantly grabbed with his left and pulled back on the table. «The splendid qualities that have made him such an asset may well be the very reasons why he could become an enormous liability.»
«What?»
«Why?»
«Because every one of you has had extensive dealings with him.»
«Buried, Warren,» said Froggie icily. «Deep down.»
«Not for him.»
«What happened?» asked Boston Bricky, his face, already bleached from the absence of sunlight in his vaults, growing paler.
«It’s directly related to the other difficulty we face, which I’ll bring up later.»
«Oh, my God,» whispered Doozie. «The savages … that Court with three left-wing senilities and one nerdy enigma still on it!»
«Yes,» confirmed Warren Pease, barely audible. «In trying to short-circuit the whole stupid fiasco, Mangecavallo traced the crazy litigants to Boston, then called in his criminal hoods from New York. Real honest to P-and-L sheet killers. One was captured.»
«Oh, great green gobs of greasy, grimy gopher guts!» cried Bricky. «Boston?»
«I read about that,» said Moose. «There was a riot at some hotel and the hood who was arrested said the President was his lawyer.»
«I didn’t know your old roomie was a lawyer, Warty,» said Doozie.
«He’s not. But if my old roomie’s name can even be mentioned, how long before Mangecavallo surfaces, and as sure as there’s plea bargaining, you’ll all be next.»
«What did you expect, Mr. Secretary?» remarked the blond Froggie, his voice in a deep freeze as he looked around the table at each member. «You give a thug responsibility, you’re responsible for thugs.»
The silence was the silence of the damned. Finally, Moose of Monarch-McDowell spoke.
«Good Lord, we’ll miss him.»
«Then we’re in agreement?» asked Warren Pease.
«Well, of course, old chum,» replied Doozie, his eyebrows arched in innocence. «What other avenue can we possibly take?»
«All roads lead to my beautiful bank on Beacon Hill!» shouted Bricky. «He’s dead monkey meat!»
«He’s too much for any of us!» cried Smythington-Fontini. «A criminal warlord at the core of the intelligence service—especially one who knows us—could name us!»
«Who’s going to say it?» demanded Moose. «Goddamn it, somebody’s got to say it!»
«I shall,» answered Froggie in a monotone. «Vincent Mangecavallo must as soon as possible become the late Vincent Mangecavallo… A terrible accident, of course, nothing remotely suspicious.»
«But how?» asked the Secretary of State.
«I, perhaps, can answer you,» said Smythington-Fontini, casually inhaling on his long cigarette holder. «I am the sole owner of the Milano-Fontini Industries, and where but in Milan, Italy, are there always cadres of malcontents that my untraceable subordinates might appeal to with a few hundred million lire? Let’s say … I can arrange it.»
«Stout fellow!»
«Good man!»
«Damn fine show!»
«When it’s all over,» exclaimed Warren Pease, his left eye reasonably in place, «the President himself will award you a commendation medal!… A quiet ceremony, of course.»
«How did he ever get through the hearings?» asked the pale-faced New Englander. «I never expected it.»
«I, for one, have absolutely no desire to know,» replied the President’s prep-school roommate. «However, as to the nomination of the silently accommodating Mr. Mangecavallo, may I remind all of you that it was the result of the President-elect’s search committee, the majority of whom are around this table. I’m sure you felt that he’d never survive the Senate, but he did, and there you have it… Gentlemen, you yourselves are responsible for placing a Mafia godfather as director of the Central Intelligence Agency.»
«That’s rather crudely put, old man,» observed the escutcheoned Doozie, jutting forth his chin as he fidgeted. «After all, you and I, we did go to the same college together.»
«God knows it pains me, Bricky, old chum, but surely you understand. I’ve got to protect our boy; it’s my job, honor-bound and duty and all those other things.»
«He didn’t go to college with us. He wasn’t even pledged to our frat at the other place, the one for the grinds.»
«Life isn’t fair to most of our crowd, Bricky,» said Froggie, his eyes, however, gazing coldly at the Secretary of State. «But just how could you possibly protect our boy in the Oval Office by alluding to any responsibility on our parts regarding Mangecavallo, which we would promptly and vociferously deny?»
«Well,» fairly choked the Secretary, his left eye again a steel pinball shooting between two magnets, «as it happens, we have the complete minutes of the search committee’s meetings.»
«How?» exploded Bricky, the pallid New England banker. «There were no secretaries and no minutes were taken!»
«You were taped, fellas,» answered the leader of the State Department, whispering.
«What?»
«I heard our loyal, fine-familied son of a bitch!» cried the Moose. «He said we were taped!»
«With what, for God’s sake?» demanded Doozie. «I never saw any machines!»
«Voice-activated microphones,» said the Secretary, hardly louder than previously. «Underneath the tables—wherever you met.»
«What was that?… Wherever we met?»
The faces around the table were frozen in angry astonishment; then one by one, as the realization hit them, the voices followed.
«My house?»
«My lodge on the lake?»
«My estate in Palm Springs!»
«The offices here in Washington?»
«Everywhere,» whispered Warren Pease, his face white.
«How could you possibly do such a thing?» roared the angular Smythington-Fontini, his ascot askew and his cigarette holder a veritable saber.
«Honor-bound and duty,» replied the blond Froggie. «You unmitigated bastard, don’t you ever expect to play at my club again.»
«And I suggest you cancel any plans you had for attending our class reunion, you despicable turncoat!» cried Doozie.
«As of this moment I accept your resignation from the Metropolitan Society!» stated Moose emphatically.
«I’m honorary chairman!»
«Not any longer, you’re not. By this evening we’ll have reports of your shocking behavior at State. Say, sexual harassment, female and male. We can’t tolerate that sort of thing! Not in our crowd!»
«And any thought you entertained about berthing your insignificant cabin cruiser at our yacht club is out of the question,» pronounced Smythie. «Dirty pot sailor.»
«Moose, Froggie, Doozie—you, too, Smythie! How can you do this to me? You’re talking about my life, all those things I hold dear!»