Arthur Hailey - Hotel

The progress through the kitchen - ostensibly of two hotel maintenance workers - went unnoticed. In the annex a metal grille, high on the wall, had been removed by Ellis in advance. A tall stepladder stood in front of an opening which the grille had covered. Without conversation, Quaratone ascended the stepladder and eased himself upward and in. There was, he discovered, room to crawl forward, using his elbows - but only just.

Darkness, except for stray glimmers from the kitchen, was complete. He felt a breath of cool air on his face; the air pressure increased as his body filled more of the metal duct.

Ellis whispered after him, "Count four outlets! The fourth, fifth, and sixth are the Dauphine Salon. Keep the noise down, sir, or you'll be heard. I'll come back in half an hour; if you're not ready, half an hour after that."

Quaratone tried to turn his head and failed. It was a reminder that getting out would be harder than getting in. Calling back a low-voiced "Roger!" he began to move.

The metallic surface was hard on knees and elbows. It also had agonizingly sharp projections. Quaratone winced as the business end of a screw ripped the coveralls and cut painfully into his leg. Reaching back, he disengaged himself and moved forward cagily.

The air duct outlets were easy to spot because of light filtering upward.

He eased over three, hoping grilles and duct were securely anchored.

Nearing the fourth he could hear voices. The meeting, it seemed, had begun. To Quaratone's delight the voices came up clearly and, by craning, he could see a portion of the room below. The view, he thought, might be even better from the next outlet. It was. Now he could see more than half the crowded assemblage below, including a raised platform where the dentists' president, Dr. Ingram, was speaking. Reaching around, the Time man brought out a notebook and a ballpoint pen, the latter with a tiny light in its tip.

". . . urge you," Dr. Ingram was asserting, "to take the strongest possible stand."

He paused, then continued, "Professional people like us who are by nature middle-of-the-roaders, have dallied too long on issues of human rights. Among ourselves we do not discriminate - at least most of the time - and in the past we have considered that to be enough. Generally, we've ignored events and pressures outside our own ranks. Our reasoning has been that we are professional, medical men with time for little else.

Well, maybe that's true, even if convenient. But here and now - like it or not - we are involved up to our wisdom teeth."

The little doctor paused, his eyes searching the faces of his audience.

"You have already heard of the unpardonable insult by this hotel to our distinguished colleague, Dr. Nicholas - an insult in direct defiance of civil rights law. In retaliation, as your president, I have recommended drastic action. It is that we should cancel our convention and walk from this hotel en masse."

There was a gasp of surprise from several sections of the room. Dr. Ingram continued, "Most of you have already learned of this proposal. To others, who arrived this morning, it is new. Let me say to both groups that the step I have proposed involves inconvenience, disappointment to me, no less than to you - and a professional as well as a public loss. But there are occasions, involving matters of great conscience, when nothing less than the most forceful action will suffice. I believe this to be one. It is also the only way in which the strength of our feelings will be demonstrated and by which we shall prove, unmistakably, that in matters of human rights this profession is not to be trifled with again."

From the floor came several cries of "hear, hear!" but, as well, a rumble of dissent.

Near the center of the room a burly figure lumbered to his feet.

Quaratone, leaning forward from his vantage point, had an impression of jowls, a thick-lipped smile and heavy-rimmed glasses. The burly man announced, "I'm from Kansas City." There was a good-natured cheer which was acknowledged with the wave of a pudgy hand. "I've just one question for the doctor. Will he be the one who'll explain to my little woman - who's been counting on this trip like a lot of other wives, I reckon - why it is that having just got here we're to turn tail and go home?"

An outraged voice protested, "That isn't the point!" It was drowned out by ironic cheers and laughter from others in the hall.

"Yessir," the burly man said, "I'd like him to be the one to tell my wife." Looking pleased with himself, he sat down.

Dr. Ingram was on his feet, red faced, indignant. "Gentlemen, this is an urgent, serious matter. We have already delayed action for twenty-four hours which in my opinion is at least half a day too long."

There was applause, but brief and scattered. A number of other voices spoke at once. Beside Dr. Ingram, the meeting's chairman pounded with a gavel.

Several speakers followed, deploring the expulsion of Dr. Nicholas, but leaving unanswered the question of reprisal. Then, as if by assent, attention focused on a slim, dapper figure standing with a suggestion of authority near the front of the hall. Quaratone missed the name which the chairman announced, but caught ". . . second vice-president and member of our executive board."

The new speaker began in a dry crisp voice, "It was at my urging, supported by several fellow executive members, that this meeting is being held in camera. As a result, we may speak freely, knowing that whatever we say will not be recorded, and perhaps misrepresented, outside this room. This arrangement, I may add, was strongly opposed by our esteemed president, Dr. Ingram."

From the platform, Dr. Ingram growled, "What are you afraid of - involvement?"

Ignoring the question, the dapper man continued, "I yield to no one in my personal distaste for discrimination. Some of my best . . ." - he hesitated -". . . my best-liked associates are those of other creeds and races. Furthermore, I deplore with Dr. Ingram the incident of yesterday.

It is merely on the question of procedure at this moment that we disagree. Dr. Ingram - if I may emulate his choice of metaphor - favors extraction. My own view is to treat more mildly for an unpleasant but localized infection." There was a ripple of laughter at which the speaker smiled.

"I cannot believe that our unfortunately absent colleague, Dr. Nicholas, would gain in the least from cancellation of our convention. Certainly, as a profession, we would lose. Furthermore - and since we are in private session I say this frankly - I do not believe that as an organization the broad issue of race relations is any of our concern."

A single voice near the rear protested, "Of course it's our concern!

Isn't it everybody's?" But through most of the room there was merely attentive silence.

The speaker shook his head. "Whatever stands we take or fail to, should be as individuals. Naturally we must support our own people where necessary, and in a moment I shall suggest certain steps in the case of Dr. Nicholas. But otherwise I agree with Dr. Ingram that we are professional medical men with time for little else."

Dr. Ingram sprang to his feet. "I did not say that! I pointed out that it's a view which has been held in the past. I happen to disagree strongly."

The dapper man shrugged. "Nevertheless the statement was made."

"But not with that kind of implication. I will not have my words twisted!" The little doctor's eyes flashed angrily. "Mr. Chairman, we're talking here glibly, using words like 'unfortunate,' 'regrettable.'

Can't all of you see that this is more than just that; that we are considering a question of human rights and decency? If you had been here yesterday and witnessed, as I witnessed, the indignity to a colleague, a friend, a good man . . ."