Mario Puzo - Fools die

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.

And I laughed because now I knew they were so obviously on the wrong track. They were looking for a really sophisticated conspiracy, an organized “ring” with a “mastermind.” Otherwise it wouldn’t be worth the time of these heavy hitters from the FBI. They didn’t know it was just a bunch of small-time clerks hustling to make an extra buck. They forgot and didn’t understand that this was New York, where everybody broke a law every day in one form or another. They couldn’t conceive of the notion that everybody would have the nerve to be crooked on his own. But I didn’t want them to get pissed off about my laughing, so I looked Wallace right in the eye. “I wish I were a kingpin of something,” I said ruefully, “instead of a lousy clerk.”

Wallace looked at me intently and then said to Hannon, “Do you have any more?” Harmon shook his head. Wallace stood up. “Thank you for answering our questions.” At the same moment Harmon stood up, and so did I. For a moment we were all there standing close together, and without even thinking about it I stuck out my hand and Wallace shook it. I did the same thing with Harmon. And then we walked out of the room together and down the hall to my office. They nodded good-bye to me as they kept on going to the stairs that would lead them downstairs and out of the building, and I went into my office.

I was absolutely cool, not nervous. Not even a little bit. I wondered about my offering to shake hands. I think it was that act that broke the tension in me. But why did I do it? I think it was out of some sort of gratitude, that they hadn’t tried to humiliate me or browbeat me. That they had kept the questioning within civilized limits. And I recognized that they had a certain pity for me. I was obviously guilty but on such a small scale. A poor lousy clerk hustling a few extra bucks. Sure, they would have put me in jail if they could, but their hearts hadn’t been in it. Or maybe it was just too small potatoes for them to exert themselves. Or maybe they couldn’t help laughing at the crime itself. Guys paying to get into the Army. And then I laughed. Forty-five grand wasn’t a few lousy bucks. I was letting self-pity carry me away.

As soon as I got back into my office, the major appeared in the doorway of the inner office and motioned me in to join him. The major had all his decorations on his uniform. He had fought in WW II and Korea, and there were at least twenty ribbons on his chest.

“How did you make out?” he asked. He was smiling a little.

I shrugged. “OK, I guess.”

The major shook his head in wonderment. “They told me it’s been going on for years. How the hell did you guys do it?” He shook his head in admiration.

“I think it’s bullshit,” I said. “I never saw Frank take a dime off anybody. Just some guys pissed off about being recalled to active duty.”

“Yeah,” the major said. “But down at Fort Lee they’re cutting orders to fly about a hundred of those guys to New York to testify before a grand jury. That’s not bullshit.” He gazed at me smilingly for a moment. “What outfit were you in against the Germans?”

“Fourth Armored,” I said.

“You’ve got a Bronze Star on your record,” the major said. “Not much but something.” He had the Silver Star and Purple Heart among the ribbons on his chest.

“No, it wasn’t,” I said. “I evacuated French civilians under shellfire. I don’t think I ever killed a German.”

The major nodded. “Not much,” he agreed. “But it’s more than those kids ever did. So if I can help, let me know. OK?”

“Thanks,” I said.

And as I got up to go, the major said angrily almost to himself, “Those two bastards started to ask me questions, and I told them to go fuck themselves. They thought I might be in on that shit.” He shook his head. “OK,” he said, “just watch your ass.”

Being an amateur criminal really doesn’t pay. I started reacting to things like a murderer in a film showing the tortures of psychological guilt. Every time the doorbell to my apartment rang at an unusual time my heart really jumped. I thought it was the cops or the FBI. And of course, it was just one of the neighbors, one of Vallie’s friends, dropping by to chat or borrow something. At the office the FBI agents dropped by a couple of times a week, usually with some young guy that they were obviously identifying me to. I figured it was some reservist who had paid his way into the six months’ program. One time Hannon came in to chat, and I went downstairs to a luncheonette to get coffee and sandwiches for us and the major. As we sat around chatting, Hannon said to me in the nicest way imaginable, “You’re a good guy, Merlyn, I really hate the idea of sending you to jail. But you know, I’ve sent a lot of nice guys to jail. I always think what a shame. If they’d just helped themselves a little bit.”

The major leaned back in his chair to watch my reaction. I just shrugged and ate my sandwich. My attitude was that it was pointless to give any answer to such remarks. It would lead to a general discussion about the whole bribe business. In any general discussion I might say something that in some way could help the investigation. So I said nothing. I asked the major if I could have a couple of days off to help my wife with the Christmas shopping. There was not really that much work and we had a new civilian in the office to replace Frank Alcore and he could mind the store while I was out. The major said sure. Also, Hannon had been dumb. His remark about sending a lot of nice guys to jail was dumb. He was too young to have sent a lot of nice guys or bad guys to jail. I had him tabbed for a rookie, a nice rookie, but not the guy that was going to send me to jail. And if he did, I would be his first one.