Riordan turned on his son with a bull-like twist of his shoulders. “There is no proof my barrels blew up,” he said, in a hard, precise voice.
“Well, somebody’s did,” Brian said, yawning.
Riordan took a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at his forehead. “Yes, there were cases of premature detonation, and of barrels cracking after heavy use. They happened in Ordnance testing grounds, too, under ideal circumstances, and with guns made to exact specifications. But that isn’t the point. I made barrels when they were needed overseas, and the only crime I committed was in violating the letter of a government contract, which was stupid and unreasonable in the first place.”
“Hear, hear,” Brian murmured.
Riordan ignored him and continued talking. “Now, Noble, I don’t want to be pilloried in the newspapers by this damned committee. Senator Hampstead is an ignorant, suspicious hillbilly who hates the thought that any man in the world has an extra pair of shoes or a second dime in his pocket. He’s a sour neurotic who thinks he’s God Almighty. I want you to get my story across to the papers, and see that they treat me right. Can you do that?”
“Well,” Noble said, expansively. “I don’t see any difficulty so far. You acted in a sensible manner, and it shouldn’t be too hard to get that fact over to the public. However, I do think we should have a few more facts at our disposal.”
“All right,” Riordan said. “I’m no good at details, but I’ll send my executive secretary, Avery Meed, over tomorrow morning with all the dope on the deals the government is worrying about. That okay?”
Brian Riordan got languidly to his feet and walked toward the door yawning. “I’m going to run along, I think,” he said. He opened the door, a smile on his face. “I sympathize with you two gentlemen, you know,” he said. “You’ve got a tough job. You’re supposed to put my father’s wartime activities in a rosy light. Well, maybe I can help you.” He paused and glanced at his father. “The old man, in a sentence, is a liar, a thief, and a murderer.”
“Brian!” Riordan snapped. “I want no more of that talk,” he said, but underneath the hard surface of his voice Jake sensed a note of defeat; and he had the feeling that this was not the first time that Riordan and his son had been through this thing.
Brian seemed undisturbed by his father’s reaction. He said to Noble, “He’s sensitive, too. You’ll have to handle him carefully.” With a mock salute at his
father, he walked out of the room.
Riordan jammed both hands in the side pocket of his coat and was staring at the rug with a bitter frown on his face. Denise came quickly to his side. She said gently, “Don’t you worry about him, Danny Boy. You know he’s been upset since the war.”
“Brian had a hard time in the war,” Riordan said, a defensive tone in his voice. “He — he’s not to be blamed for his attitude. He had a tough time, and now he’s having trouble settling down.”
“That’s childish,” Denise said. “He had it tough, but so did a million other guys.”
Riordan said slowly, “I don’t think it’s fair of us to criticize him for not behaving as we’d like him to. Now, let’s get back to our work.”
There was a knock on the door and Dean Niccolo, the agency’s top copy writer, walked in. He nodded to Noble, and said, “Sorry if I’m late, Gary.”
“Not at all,” Noble said, obviously relieved by the interruption. He introduced Niccolo to Riordan and his wife. “I asked Dean to come in tonight after you called, Mr. Riordan. He’ll be working on the copy we turn out for you, so I wanted him briefed from the start.”
Dean Niccolo nodded to the Riordans and smiled at Jake. “Funny thing,” he said, getting out cigarettes. “I met a young crackpot getting on the elevator.” Niccolo laughed, failing to notice Noble’s desperately signalling eyes. “He was carrying quite a load. He saluted me, said, ‘4-F, I presume,’ and staggered into the elevator.”
Riordan made an impatient gesture with his hand. “That young idiot, Mr. Niccolo, was my son. Don’t bother saying you’re sorry. He’s drunk tonight and acting like a damn fool. Now, we’ve had enough interruptions. Noble, I’d like some details on what you can do for me before I sign the contract.”
Niccolo sat down and winked quickly at Jake, as Noble began talking. He was a large young man, with broad shoulders and blunt strong hands. His hair was black and thick, worn in a trim crew cut. There was intelligence in his dark features, and stubborn strength in his solid jaw. Jake realized that he wasn’t at all affected by what most people would consider an embarrassing situation.
Noble was saying, “Naturally, we can’t give you a detailed program as yet, Mr. Riordan, but when we know the facts you can rest assured...”
“I can’t rest assured until I know what you’re going to do,” Riordan said, with a touch of temper. “Can’t you give me an idea in plain words? I like things put out clearly where I can examine them without using a dictionary.”
Noble flashed a distress signal at Jake and said, “Jake, perhaps you can give Mr. Riordan a fill-in on our plans.”
“Okay,” Jake said. He had been studying Riordan and he guessed the man could stand honesty. “Frankly, I don’t know what the hell we can do for you, because I don’t have any facts. After we talk with your man, Meed, tomorrow, we may know enough to make plans. There’s nothing mysterious about public relations. The techniques of the business are fundamental, but each account requires a specific application of those techniques. Part of your problem, of course, is Senator Hampstead. He’s remorseless, ruthless, full of joyless reform ideas, but the country is in back of him, after the job he’s done on five per centers, contract jockeys, and some of the other termites that did business during the war. His committee has standing and character. And the fact that he’s teeing off on you may look bad at first. That’s why I repeat, we need all the facts before we attempt to set up a program.”
Riordan nodded reluctantly, and said, “All right. But I’ll want a report by tomorrow night, after you’ve talked to Meed. And there’s one other thing. I asked you about May Laval, Noble. She’s writing a book, I’m told. There’s a chance she may drag me into it. Right now with this damn investigation pending, she can do a lot of harm.”
“Are you sure she’s using you in the book?” Jake said.
“No, I’m not. That’s what I’m expecting you to find out, for one thing.”
Jake nodded and thought a moment. Then he said, “I know her fairly well, Riordan. Ill talk to her and see what’s on her mind.”
“This May Laval intrigues me,” Denise said coolly. “She seems to have you men upset. What sort of a person is she?”
Riordan ran a hand through his black hair, then shook his head. “Hell, it’s not that easy. She can be wonderful. And she can be a bitch. I knew her during the war. She helped me a lot, entertaining army and navy brass, government inspectors, and so forth. You know how it was. Most of the men working for the government then were a lot of tomcatting incompetents who were having a big time away from their wives. They wanted fun, excitement and to be treated like big shots. May was great at that. And she was cheerful and fun to be with, until she’d get burned up about something and she’d let loose at anyone in sight.” Riordan shook his head and smiled slightly. Jake watched Denise and saw the tightness that came to her mouth.
“There was one time I remember especially,” Riordan said.
“You can save it for your next stag,” Denise said sweetly.
Riordan looked at her, then cleared his throat. “Well, it’s beside the point, anyway. You’ll see her then, Jake?”
“Sure. It’s probably nothing to worry about.”
Riordan studied Jake thoughtfully. Then he said, “Remember this, Harrison. I worry about everything. I don’t take chances on things turning out all right. I make damn sure they do. Do you understand what I mean?”