Rex Stout - In the Best Families

I was keeping my frown. “Which I may or may not have a hand in. Don't think I'm playing hard to get, but this is quite a step to take. Using a threat of a murder rap to put the screws on a millionaire is a little too drastic without pretty good assurance that I get more than peanuts. You said five per cent of a probable half a million, but you're used to talking big figures. Could I have that filled in a little?

Roeder reached for a battered old leather brief-case which he had brought in with him and deposited on the floor. Getting it on his lap, he had it opened when Zeck asked him, “What are you after, the estimates?

“Yes, if you want them.

“You may show them to him, but no names. Zeck turned to me. “I think you may do, Goodwin. You're brash, but that is a quality that may be made use of. You used it when you talked with Rackham. He must be led into this with tact or he may lose his head and force our hand, and all we want is his co-operation. His conviction for murder wouldn't help us any; quite the contrary. Properly handled, he should be of value to us for years.

The shark eyes left me. “What's your opinion of Goodwin, Roeder? Can you work with him?

Roeder had closed the brief-case and kept it on his lap. “I can try, he said, not enthusiastically. “The general level here is no higher than on the coast.

But we can't get started until we know whether we have Rackham or not, and the approach through Goodwin does seem the best way. He's so damned cocky I don't know whether he'll take direction.

“Would you care to have my opinion of Roeder? I inquired.

Zeck ignored it. “Goodwin, he said, “this is the most invulnerable organisation on earth. There are good men in it, but it all comes to me. I am the organisation. I have no prejudices and no emotions. You will get what you deserve. If you deserve well, there is no limit to the support you will get, and none to the reward. If you deserve ill, there is no limit to that either. You understand that?

“Sure. His eyes were the hardest to meet in my memory. “Provided you understand that I don't like you.

“No one likes me. No one likes the authority of superior intellect. There was one man who matched me in intellect-the man you worked for, Nero Wolfe-but his will failed him. His vanity wouldn't let him yield, and he cleared out.

“He was a little handicapped, I protested, “by his respect for law.

“Every man is handicapped by his own weaknesses. If you communicate with him give him my regards. I have great admiration for him.

Zeck glanced at a clock on the wall and then at Roeder. “I'm keeping a caller waiting. Goodwin is under your direction, but he is on trial. Consult me as necessary within the routine.

He must have had floor buttons for foot-signalling, for he touched nothing with his hands, but the door opened and the sentinel appeared.

Zeck said, “Put Goodwin on the B list, Schwartz.

Roeder and I arose and headed for the door, him with his brief-case under his arm.

Remembering how he had told me, tapping his chest, “I am a D, Archie, I would have given a lot if I could have tapped my own bosom and announced, “I am a B,

Mr Wolfe.

Chapter Seventeen

There was one chore Wolfe had given me which I haven't mentioned, because I didn't care to reveal the details-and still don't. But the time will come when you will want to know where the gun at the bottom of the brief-case came from, so I may as well say now that you aren't going to know.

Since filing the number from a gun has been made obsolete by the progress of science, the process of getting one that can't be traced has got more complicated and requires a little specialised knowledge. One has to be acquainted with the right people. I am. But there is no reason why you should be, so I won't give their names and addresses. I couldn't quite meet Wolfe's specifications-the size and weight of a.22 and the punch of a.45-but I did pretty well: a Carson Snub Thirty, an ugly little devil, but straight and powerful. I tried it out one evening in the basement at Thirty-fifth Street.

When I was through I collected the bullets and dumped them in the river. We were taking enough chances without adding another, however slim.

The next evening after our conference with Zeck, a Monday, Wolfe and I collaborated on the false bottom for the brief-case. We did the job at 1019.

Since I was now a B and Roeder's lieutenant on his big operation, and he was supposed to keep in touch with me, there was no reason why he shouldn't come to

Thirty-fifth Street for an evening visit, but when I suggested it he compressed his lips and scowled at me with such ferocity that I quickly changed the subject. We made the false bottom out of an old piece of leather that I picked up at a shoe hospital, and it wasn't bad at all. Even if a sentinel removed all the papers for a close inspection, which wasn't likely with the status Roeder had reached, there was little chance of his suspecting the bottom; yet if you knew just where and how to pry you could have the Carson out before you could say Jackie Robinson.

However, something had happened before that: my second talk with Barry Rackham.

When I got home late Sunday night the phone-answering service reported that he had been trying to reach me, both at 1019 and at the office, and I gave him a ring and made a date for Monday at three o'clock.

Usually I am on the dot for an appointment, but that day an errand took less time than I had allowed, and it was only twelve to three when I left the

Churchill tower elevator at Rackham's floor and walked to his door. I was lifting my hand to push the button, when the door opened and I had to step back so a woman wouldn't walk into me. When she saw me she stopped, and we both stared. It was Lina Darrow. Her fine eyes were as fine as ever.

“Well, hallo, I said appreciatively.

“You're early, Goodwin, Barry Rackham said. He was standing in the doorway.

Lina's expression was not appreciative. It didn't look like embarrassment, more like some kind of suspicion, though I had no notion what she could suspect me of so spontaneously.

“How are you? she asked, and then, to make it perfectly clear that she didn't give a damn, went by me towards the elevator. Rackham moved aside, giving me enough space to enter, and I did so and kept going to the living-room. In a moment I heard the door close, and in another moment he joined me.

“You're early, he repeated, not reproachfully.

He looked as if, during the seventy hours since I had last seen him, he had had at least seventy drinks. His face was mottled, his eyes were bloodshot, and his left cheek was twitching. Also his tie had a dot of egg yolk on it, and he needed a shave.

“A week ago Saturday, I said, “I think it was, one of my men described a girl you were out with, and it sounded like Miss Darrow, but I wasn't sure. I'm not leading up to something, I'm just gossiping.

He wasn't interested one way or the other. He asked what I would have to drink, and when I said nothing thank you he went to the bar and got himself a straight one, and then came and moved a chair around to sit facing me.