Джеймс Кейн - Root of His Evil [= Shameless]

“You may. If you want me.”

“Ah!”

“No — don’t jump to conclusions. I don’t quite mean that — or at any rate what I think you have in mind. Off and on, ever since I’ve known you, you’ve tried to persuade me to become active in union work, and even offered me positions — if you want me with you couldn’t I be your secretary? Won’t you need one?”

He was over beside me before I even finished, kissing me, with tears starting out of his eyes. “Would you do that, Carrie? I’ll have to have one. And if I have you — I know I’ll win! With that bright little head you have on your shoulders—”

“But mind you, I mean secretary. I don’t mean — something else.”

“If you’re with me, do I care what you mean?”

“I’m going to have my own suite, wherever we go, and pay for it—”

“Stop talking, Carrie. I’m too happy to argue.”

“But I’m not through yet.”

“I am. I know all I want to know.”

“If I’m to be your secretary that means I’m a full-fledged unionist — or whatever you call it—”

“Of course you are. You’re still a member in good standing of the culinary workers’ union—”

“—And I have to know more about what I’m expected to do.”

“The little head again. No wonder I love you, Carrie.”

“What is this project, anyway?”

“I told you. We’re hitting the big industries. The ones that unions so far have been afraid — or unable — really to tackle.”

“Which industries?”

“Now that you’re my secretary I can tell you. Automobiles. Steel. Rubber. The mass-production industries that employ thousands — hundreds of thousands. They’re the future of the labor movement.”

“And where do we go, you and I?”

“The ‘we’ sounds sweet, Carrie. First to Detroit.”

“Oh — the automobile industry?”

“Yes. And guess which plant we tackle first.”

“I haven’t any idea.”

“The toughest of them all — I saw to that. For the moral effect. We play one against the other, but first we move in on Geerlock.”

My heart was pounding so that I hardly knew what I was saying when I asked if I could be alone while I packed. However, he noticed nothing and told me to take my time, as we wouldn’t leave until five o’clock. He didn’t care to fly the northern airlines at this time of year so we were going by train, and he was in very high spirits when he left me to arrange both compartments. As soon as I had locked the door I darted for the phone and called Mr. Hunt at his office. The call went through in just a few minutes but it seemed a year. “Bernie?”

“Yes, Carrie?”

“Now I’ve found out what I didn’t know last night. As soon as you get my check I want you to sell me short on Geerlock common.”

“Geerlock! Carrie, you’re crazy! The stock’s a buy! It’s been zooming since the spring. They’re snowed under with orders and—”

“Bernie! Please! I know what I’m doing! And you said you’d do what I—”

“But this is lunacy! You ought to be examined!”

“All right, I’ll get examined. But will you—”

“I’ll do anything you say, but it makes me sick.”

“How much margin will you require?”

“On Geerlock? It’s now selling at 110 — ten points.”

“Then my $10,000 will cover me on 1,000 shares—”

“For a couple of weeks, until you’re wiped out.”

“And how long will it take you to get rid of that amount of stock? I mean, under the SEC rule?”

“The rule is, that if we sell short we can only sell at a price higher than the last previous sale of that stock. But that part’s easy. In this market it’s no trick to sell short — and go broke. You’ll be wiped out so fast—”

“I asked you how long it would take.”

“A day, no longer.”

“All right, then. As soon as my check arrives, sell.”

“I’ll sell, but I’m turning green.”

“Take some bicarbonate.”

I sent for my long distance phone bills, for I didn’t want them paid by Mr. Hyde. I had just sent the boy down with the money when there came a rap on the door. I opened, and it was Mr. Bolton. “Just dropped in to say goodbye. How do you feel?”

“Terrible.”

“What? You should be gay — think of it, shackles have been struck off your wrists! What’s the matter, Carrie?”

“I’ve just double-crossed a man.”

“The candidate for your hand?”

“Yes.”

“I knew you’d never marry that guy.”

“It’s a little worse than that. I’m cold-bloodedly using him to further my schemes.”

“What schemes?”

“Money.”

“You’re certainly a mercenary little rat.”

“And he’s decent and loves me. I feel like hell.”

He took both my hands in his, then dropped them and turned away quickly, for he hated to betray that he liked anybody or was anything except a crusty bachelor. But for a moment or two, while he talked, his voice was very soft and he wasn’t a crusty bachelor at all. “Carrie, if you really were a mercenary little rat and were doing what you say you re doing you’d bore me and I wouldn’t waste five minutes on you.”

“Oh, I’m doing it, all right.”

“You’re doing it, but not for the reasons you think. You can deny it all you please, but you’re really a young woman in love. You’re determined to have that Grant back and you don’t care how you do it. I guess you’re right. You’ll have to lick Agnes before you can do anything else, and all I can say is — all’s fair in love, and more power to you. If a labor leader has to be double-crossed, then to hell with him. Cross him and forget him. Look at me now, Carrie.”

“...I’m looking.”

“Get that man.”

“Then you don’t — despise me?”

“I just love you — for your cold-blooded little soul and something in your heart that isn’t cold... Get that slug and make a man out of him. Promise me?”

“...I’ll try.”

“Atta girl.”

He took my hand and gave me a kind, warm smile and I felt a great deal better.

We arrived in Detroit Christmas afternoon and at once went to a small hotel out near the factory. It wasn’t much of a place and this surprised me, as previously Mr. Holden had always lived in a very elegant way. But he explained that it would be his headquarters for some time and that it was important that the people he would see feel comfortable there and not self-conscious about coming in, as they might if he went to one of the more fashionable hotels downtown. He gave me permission to go to a better place if I wished, but I decided to stay here. I didn’t take a suite. I took a single room with bath, and my reason was that I knew most hotels had rules against their women guests entertaining visitors in a bedroom, and this would be my excuse for not letting Mr. Holden or anybody come up there. I registered as C. Selden, hoping the newspapers would not identify me from that, and thank heaven they didn’t.

My room was high up, but he took a suite on the second floor so his visitors could reach it merely by walking up one flight of stairs. I thought at first this was to make it convenient for them, but I soon found out it was also for secrecy. For they merely drifted into the hotel without having to announce themselves at the desk or attract the attention of elevator boys, and fifty or sixty a day would be in and out without any fuss. My salary was $40 a week. He offered me $60 but I told him $40 was all I would take. I would really have preferred to work for nothing, considering all the circumstances, but as this would have looked very peculiar I accepted $40 and paid my own bills.