Irving Wallace - The Man

“Shoot him right in.”

He hung up. “Clay Kemmler’s here. Apparently, something critical-”

“We can step out until-” Flannery began.

Dilman waved Flannery and Talley back to the sofa. “No, stay put. Let’s-”

Edna Foster’s door swung open, and then shut, and Attorney General Kemmler stormed in, flinging his hat at the sofa, ignoring Talley and Flannery as he shed his coat and moved toward the President. Dilman could see that Kemmler was the personification of spleen. His close-set, flinty eyes narrowed, and looked as if they were giving off sparks. Head back, his square jaw thrust forward beyond the point of his nose, he resembled a beset dragon carrying banderillas in its backside.

“Mr. President, there’s trouble for us,” he announced angrily, almost bumping into the Buchanan desk. “I thought you’d better hear it in person, not on the phone, because we’ll have to make some fast decisions.”

He paused, leaned over the desk, and said, “Those goddam Turnerites went and started their retaliation program. I just got the flash from Mississippi. Some of Hurley’s hoodlums crossed into Hattiesburg, grabbed Judge Everett Gage at gunpoint, and kidnaped him. They left a ransom note for local, state, and Federal officials. They’ll free Judge Gage when Mississippi frees those Turnerites who were sentenced to ten years. Now what in the holy hell am I supposed to do?”

Involuntarily, Dilman had shivered when Kemmler spat out “kidnaped him.” The full realization that his people, a segment of them, had ceased talking terror, were practicing it, performing it, involving him in their insane deed, frightened him.

“It’s crazy,” he said. “Are you sure Hurley is responsible? I can’t believe it.”

“He’s already sent a denial to the Birmingham and Jackson papers-but who else can be responsible for this act except Hurley and his Turnerites?” Kemmler demanded impatiently. “Naturally, he gave out a statement denying his Group had anything to do with it, but he added something to the effect that he couldn’t disapprove of any of his fellow Negroes standing up for their rights. We’re trying to locate him for questioning, but no luck, so far. But whether he denies it or not, whether he makes it look like an individual action or not, it’s got to be something he sanctioned. Hasn’t he been threatening us with retaliation and violence in all his speeches? And who else on earth would risk their necks in a foolhardy act like this-trying to spring a bunch of jailed Turnerites-except other Turnerites?”

Within Dilman there beat a faint hope. “So far, as much as you know, the kidnaping was done by individuals?”

“So far, yes,” said Kemmler. “But, Mr. President, there’s no doubt over at Justice that the crime is a direct result of announced Turnerite policies.”

Dilman’s gaze went from the Attorney General to Talley and Flannery, who had come forward, both deeply disturbed. Dilman shook his head. “Well, whether it was the act of individuals or an organization-whichever-how in the devil do they expect to accomplish anything by it?”

“I’ll tell you how,” said Kemmler. He pushed past Flannery, and came around the desk to stand over the President. “It’s all been thought out, every detail. The unsigned ransom note demands that the ten Turnerites in the penitentiary at Parchman be released from jail at once and be delivered safely to Tampico, the Mexican seaport-very smart, since you know and I know how goddam uncooperative the Mexican government has been lately about extraditing our fugitive citizens of Mexican, Japanese, or Negro descent. When the Turnerites are released and landed in Tampico, the kidnapers promise Judge Gage will be returned unharmed. That’s the deal.”

Dilman sought to rally his authority. “What’s this got to do with us? From what you’ve told me, it’s strictly a state affair.”

“No, Mr. President, it’s our affair,” said Kemmler emphatically, slapping his thigh. “I spoke to Lombardi at once, and ordered him to sic the FBI after them, because there were indications that the victim was being taken across the state line. Now there’s concrete evidence from the FBI that Gage has been carried from Mississippi into Louisiana, and the hoodlums are probably trying to get him to Texas and into Mexico. That makes it our business. That brings it under the Lindbergh kidnaping law. It’s a clear-cut Federal offense.”

“Well, all right, you’re on top of it,” said Dilman. “You’re doing what you can-”

“My God, Mr. President,” exclaimed Kemmler, slapping his thigh repeatedly in his agitation, “this is only the beginning. Can’t you see what this means? It means Hurley, Valetti, the whole Turnerite gang-no matter what their phony denials-are starting their eye-for-an-eye policy. If we let them get away with this, they’re going to go on with it, take the law into their own hands. Every time they can trump up an injustice practiced upon a Negro, they’re going to retaliate with a kidnaping, blaming their act on unknown individuals and mocking us with their innocence as a group. Can’t you see what this will lead to? Anarchy, crime compounding crime, with counter-vigilante outfits galloping around the country. Goddammit, we’re going to have the Civil War all over again-but twice as bad, because it’ll be black against white this time-unless we do something fast.”

Shaken, eyes now downcast, Dilman began crumbling the cigar butt between his fingers. “I suppose I could make some kind of personal appeal to Hurley to join us in apprehending-”

“No, absolutely not,” said Kemmler.

Talley snapped his fingers for attention. “Mr. President, I’m inclined to agree with the Attorney General. You, personally, can’t treat with a possible abductor as an equal, bring him up to your level, or demean yourself by going down to his. The consequences-”

“I’m flatly against any bargaining,” Kemmler interrupted. “The situation is too explosive. We can’t let one man who is outside the law, heading up one organization, decide what is just and unjust, and mete out his own punishments. We can’t have two governments, Mr. President. If there are biases and delinquency on our side, and there are plenty of these, we’ll find ways to right them under due process, but no gang of activists is going to supplant us.” He straightened, breathing heavily, and then continued. “The FBI’ll nail the kidnapers soon enough, you can be sure. Then we’ll be able to prove their link to the Turnerites and prosecute them. But we can’t wait for that, believe me. What we need from you, Mr. President, is foresight and firm intervention right now that’ll put an immediate stop to any more Turnerite violence. In this way you’ll discourage lawlessness from other activist groups, black or white. You’ve got a press conference today, right? You can bet those reporter hounds will be howling after you and after me. Okay, I think you should be ready for them, beat them to the punch. I think you should announce that the Federal government is moving immediately to outlaw and disband the Turnerites, and that any person found to be a member-”

“Wait a minute,” Dilman interrupted, rolling his swivel chair back, and swinging his bulk directly toward Kemmler. “I haven’t the power to ban or restrict any private society or organization in the United States, be it the Turnerites or the Ku Klux Klan, unless-”

“Unless it is proved subversive,” Kemmler finished for him. “That’s right. Well, we’ve got the goods on the Turnerites. It was because he anticipated a situation exactly like this that T. C. forced Congress into beefing up the Subversive Activities Control Act. He and Congress knew that the $10,000 fine and five-year imprisonment for failure of a Communist to register wasn’t going to scare anyone, especially since it was always being questioned in the courts. That’s why T. C. pounded through this stronger act-any Communist Front organization engaging in subversive activity, to the detriment of the nation, against the safety of the government, can have its leaders punished and its membership disbanded, and those not complying-”