Джозеф Хеллер - Maximum Impact

“You’re right, Stephen,” Green said. “I’ve got an attitude problem when it comes to Marshall. Perhaps I should disqualify myself from these deliberations.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Adams said. “It doesn’t matter what you say among friends. You’ll have to be careful in the hearings. Marshall is likely to come equipped with considerable legal help, and they’ll jump on any hint of personal prejudice. So, I could add, will our friends on the other side of the aisle.”

Harley Stinson cleared his throat. It was loud enough to gain him the floor. Stinson was a rotund Senate fixture from West Virginia. He was among the most conservative of Democrats and came to the meeting with a natural bent against an investigation of another member of the club, regardless of the member’s political affiliation. He was shaking his head, and if the meeting hadn’t been on such a serious subject, the sight of his head going one way and his four chins flapping the other, then vice versa, would have been comical.

“Ah truly believe we are lettin’ partisanship cloud our vision here,” Stinson said with more of a hill drawl than came naturally to him. He often reverted to the old West Virginia twang when he was thinking as he spoke. The slowness of speech gave him time to think.

“What do you mean, Harley?” Green asked.

“What has our colleague from Ohio done to warrant an ethics investigation? There is no evidence, no evidence a-tawl, he has done anythin’ for his own personal gain. He has gone to the limit to defend a constituent, I will admit, but ah do not believe his confrontation with that reporter in the halls of this very buildin’ is an ethics matter. He was tryin’ to leave a meetin’, and the media people would not leave him be. They blocked his way and refused to allow him to pass”—which came out as “pay-iss.” “Are we to judge him for forcin’ his way through a mob?”

“He didn’t force his way through; he assaulted a man without justifiable cause,” said Adams. “And we can’t ascribe his actions on behalf of Converse to mere constituent service, Harley. He owns a fortune in Converse stock, and he sent a tax-paid aide to the NTSB to plead the company’s interests. That would be dead wrong even if he didn’t own the stock. Constituent or no constituent, it’s improper to attempt to influence a federal investigation.”

“You gonna base an Ethics Committee investigation on an uncorroborated newspaper article?” Stinson asked. “And on the other, about him hittin’ the reporter, if there was a wrong done, then it’s up to the victim to press charges. It’s not up to this committee to sit in judgment.”

“I strongly disagree, Harley,” said Green. “His actions are the epitome of conduct unbecoming a member of the Senate, and that’s our mandate.”

“It seems to me we hold the hearings and let the matter find its own course,” said Adams. “The hearings will be behind closed doors, no press coverage. What’s the harm?”

“The harm,” Stinson objected, “is ever’body will know the hearin’s are goin’ on. There will be inevitable leaks of information, and we could be tarrin’ a man who doesn’t deserve it. That’s the harm.”

“It’s obvious the vote in here is two to one to hold the hearings,” said Adams. “Hugh, you have any idea where our counterparts stand on this?”

“I gather they’re unanimous against, but Frank Hopper is on the line. I don’t think he’d raise strong objections. He hasn’t much use for Marshall, either.”

“Can we bring him over?” Adams asked.

“Converting Frank Hopper isn’t on the floor at the moment,” said Green. “Our position investigating Harold Marshall is our only business right now. Do we vote?”

“Do we have to?” asked Adams.

“I don’t want anybody saying I forced him into this,” Green answered.

“But you did, didn’t you?” Stinson said with a nasty edge in his voice.

“No! I did not,” Green objected. “You had your say, Harley. And I offered to stand aside. I don’t know how it could get any cleaner. We agreed in the beginning the Democrats would stand united in whatever decision we made and the majority opinion would rule. What the hell is stuck in your mountain craw?”

“You wanna know, I’ll tell you,” Stinson said, using his elbows to heft his considerable bulk more upright in his chair. “Ah think you’re doin’ this outta loyalty.”

“To whom?” Green demanded.

“To that purty little gal that’s your AA,” said Stinson. “Ah hear she’s sleepin’ real serious with the Chronicle reporter who’s been breakin’ all these stories.”

Green shook his head as if to rid it of cobwebs. Then he came out of his chair and around his desk toward Stinson, a vengeance in his eyes that caused Adams to rise to restrain him.

“You goddamned hillbilly sonofabitch, I ought to kick your ass,” Green snarled. “I’ve never done anything official for personal reasons in my life, and you know it. My AA will have no role in these hearings. For you to suggest I would do otherwise is below contempt.”

“You want to hit me, Hugh?” Stinson asked calmly, not moving from his chair. “You mad enough to take a swing at me?”

“You’re damned straight I am.”

“So how do you suppose Harold Marshall felt when he was subjected to even greater provocation from a herd of goddamned media with cameras rollin’ and flashes poppin’?”

Green went suddenly slack. He looked at Stinson for a long minute. Then he returned to his desk.

“Point taken, Harley,” he said, sitting down heavily. “Point well taken. The assault is off this committee’s agenda.”

The clerk in the public-records room at the Securities and Exchange Commission was very helpful, a particular comfort to Steve Pace because he felt out of his element amid the jargon, acronyms, and esoteric concepts of the securities world.

“Yes, sir,” she said. “We do have a filing for a Harold Marshall.”

Pace sat down beside her at the microfiche machine and stared at the pictures of the document. “Tell me what I’m looking at,” he asked. “This is a brave new world for me.”

She smiled in an accommodating way. “This is called a Schedule Thirteen-D. You have to file it if you acquire more than five percent of the outstanding shares of a publicly-traded company.”

“I’m with you that far,” Pace said. “What do these numbers mean?”

“Harold Marshall bought 50,000 shares on this date, and at the time of purchase they amounted to five-point-three percent of the outstanding shares in the company. Then he shows here that this was a block purchase—I mean he bought it all at once; the holdings didn’t build up over years. And here where it asks his intention in making the purchase, he says it was an investment.”

“That’s a strange question.”

“In theory, if you buy a big percentage of a company’s stock because you intend to take over the company, you’re supposed to report it. Obviously, that could have an impact, good or bad, on other investors’ interest in the company.”

“Is there a way to find out if Marshall still owns the stock?”

“If there’s a change in status, he’s supposed to amend this statement to show that, but there’s no amendment on file here.”

“Then as far as you can tell, he bought 50,000 shares on this date, and he still holds exactly 50,000 shares.”

“Right, unless he filed an amendment recently and the paperwork isn’t here yet.”

“Is there a way to check?” Pace smiled at her sweetly.

“I could make some calls.”

“I’d appreciate it. Should I wait?”

“It won’t take long.”