IV
A family council was called the next day. Orsino, very much a junior,had never been admitted to one before. He knew why the exception wasbeing made, and didn't like the reason.
Edward Falcaro wagged his formidable white beard at the thirty-oddSyndic chiefs around the table and growled: "I think we'll dispense withreviewing production and so on. I want to talk about this damn gunplay.Dick, bring us up to date."
He lit a vile cigar and leaned back.
Richard W. Reiner rose.
"Thomas McGurn," he said, "killed April 15th by a burst of eight machinegun bullets in his private dining room at the Astor. Elsie Warshofsky,his waitress, must be considered the principal suspect, but--"
Edward Falcaro snapped: "Suspect, hell! She killed him, didn't she?"
"_I was about to say_, but the evidence so far is merely cumulative.Mrs. Warshofsky jumped--fell--or was pushed--from the dining roomwindow. The machine gun was found beside the window.
"There are no known witnesses. Mrs. Warshofsky's history presents nounusual features. An acquaintance submitted a statement--based, shefrankly admitted, on nothing definite--that Mrs. Warshofsky sometimestalked in a way that led her to wonder if she might not be a member ofthe secret terrorist organization known as the D.A.R. In thisconnection, it should be noted that Mrs. Warshofsky's maiden name wasAdams.
"Robert Orsino, killed April 21st by a thermite bomb concealed in hispillow and fuzed with a pressure-sensitive switch. His valet, EdwardBlythe, disappeared from view. He was picked up April 23rd by a posse onthe beach of Montauk Point, but died before he could be questioned.Examination of his stomach contents showed a lethal quantity of sodiumfluoride. It is presumed that the poison was self-administered."
"Presumed!" the old man snorted, and puffed out a lethal quantity ofcigar smoke.
"Blythe's history," Reiner went on blandly, "presents no unusualfeatures. It should be noted that a commerce-raider of the so-calledUnited States Government Navy was reported off Montauk Point during thenight of April 23rd-24th by local residents.
"Charles Orsino, attacked April 30th by his bodyguard James Halloran inthe lobby of the Costello Memorial Theater. Halloran fired one shotwhich killed another bodyguard and was then himself killed. Halloran'shistory presents no unusual features except that he had a considerableinterest in--uh--history. He collected and presumably read obsoletebooks dealing with pre-Syndic Pre-Mob America. Investigators found byhis bedside the first volume of a work published in 1942 called _TheGrowth of The American Republic_ by Morison and Commager. It was openedto Chapter Ten, The War of Independence!"
Reiner took his seat.
F. W. Taylor said dryly: "Dick, did you forget to mention thatWarshofsky, Blythe and Halloran are known officers of the U. S. Navy?"
Reiner said: "You are being facetious. Are you implying that I haveomitted pertinent facts?"
"I'm implying that you artistically stacked the deck. With a rumor, adubious commerce-raider report and a note on a man's hobby, you want usto sweep the bastards from the sea, don't you--just the way you alwayshave?"
"I am not ashamed of my expressed attitude on the question of theso-called United States Government and will defend it at any proper timeand place."
"Shut the hell up, you two," Edward Falcaro growled. "I'm trying tothink." He thought for perhaps half a minute and then looked up,baffled. "Has anybody got any ideas?"
Charles Orsino cleared his throat, amazed at his own temerity. The oldman's eyebrows shot up, but he grudgingly said: "I guess you can saysomething, since they thought you were important enough to shoot."
Orsino said: "Maybe it's some outfit over in Europe or Asia?"
Edward Falcaro asked: "Anybody know anything about Europe or Asia?Jimmy, you flew over once, didn't you? To see about Anatolian poppieswhen the Mob had trouble with Mex labor?"
Jimmy Falcaro said creakily: "Yeah. It was a waste of time. They havethese little dirt farmers scratching out just enough food for the familyand maybe raising a quarter-acre of poppy. That's _all_ there is fromthe China Sea to the Mediterranean. In England--Frank, you tell 'em. Youexplained it to me once."
Taylor rose. "The forest's come back to England. When finance there lostits morale and couldn't hack its way out of the paradoxes that was theend. When that happens you've got to have a large, virile criminal classready to take over and do the work of distribution and production. Maybesome of you know how the English were. The poor beggars had civilizedall the illegality out of the stock. They couldn't do anything thatwasn't respectable. From sketchy reports, I gather that England is nowforest and a few hundred starving people. One fellow says the men stillwear derbies and stagger to their offices in the city.
"France is peasants, drunk three-quarters of the time.
"Russia is peasants, drunk _all_ the time.
"Germany--well, there the criminal class was _too_ big and _too_ virile.The place is a cemetery."
He shrugged: "Say it, somebody. The Mob's gunning for us."
Reiner jumped to his feet. "I will _never_ support such a hypothesis!"he shrilled. "It is _mischievous_ to imply that a century of peace hasbeen ended, that our three-thousand-mile border with our friend to theWest--"
Taylor intoned satirically: "_Un_-blemished, my friends, by a _single_for-ti-fi-_ca_-tion--"
Edward Falcaro yelled: "Stop your damn foolishness, Frank Taylor! Thisis no laughing matter."
Taylor snapped: "Have you been in Mob Territory lately?"
"I have," the old man said. He scowled.
"How'd you like it?"
Edward Falcaro shrugged irritably. "They have their ways, we have ours.The Regan line is running thin, but we're not going to forget that JimmyRegan stood shoulder to shoulder with Amadeo Falcaro in the old days.There's such a thing as loyalty."
F. W. Taylor said: "There's such a thing as blindness."
He had gone too far. Edward Falcaro rose from his chair and leanedforward, bracing himself on the table. He said flatly: "This is astatement, gentlemen. I won't pretend I'm happy about the way things arein Mob Territory. I won't pretend I think old man Regan is a balanced,dependable person. I won't pretend I think the Mob clients are enjoyinganywhere near the service that Syndic clients enjoy. I'm perfectly awarethat on our visits of state to Mob Territory we see pretty much what ourhosts want us to see. But I cannot believe that any group which isrooted on the principles of freedom and service can have gone verywrong.
"Maybe I'm mistaken, gentlemen. But I cannot believe that a descendantof Jimmy Regan would order a descendant of Amadeo Falcaro murdered. Wewill consider every other possibility first. Frank, is that clear?"
"Yes," Taylor said.
"All right," Edward Falcaro grunted. "Now let's go about this thingsystematically. Dick, you go right down the line with the charge thatthe Government's responsible for these atrocities. I hate to think thatmyself. If they are, we're going to have to spend a lot of time andtrouble hunting them down and doing something about it. As long as theystick to a little commerce-raiding and a few coastal attacks, I can'tsay I'm really unhappy about them. They don't do much harm, and theykeep us on our toes and--maybe this one is most important--they keep ourclient's memories of the bad old days that we delivered them from alive.That's a great deal to surrender for the doubtful pleasures of a long,expensive campaign. If assassination's in the picture I suppose we'llhave to knock them off--but we've got to be _sure_."
"May I speak?" Reiner asked icily.
The old man nodded and re-lit his cigar.
"I have been called--behind my back, naturally--a fanatic," Reinersaid. He pointedly did not look anywhere near F. W. Taylor as he spokethe word. "Perhaps this is correct and perhaps fanaticism is what'sneeded at a time like this. Let me point out what the so-calledGovernment stands for: brutal 'taxation,' extirpation of gambling,denial of life's simple pleasures to the poor and severe limitation ofthem to all but the wealthy, sexual prudery viciously enforced by penallaws of appalling barbarity, endless regula
tion and coercion governingevery waking minute of the day. That was its record during the days ofits power and that would be its record if it returned to power. I failto see how this menace to our liberty can be condoned by certainmarginal benefits which are claimed to accrue from its continuedexistence." He faltered for a moment as his face twisted with anunpleasant memory. In a lower, unhappier voice, he went on: "I--I wasalarmed the other day by something I overheard. Two small children werelaying bets at the Kiddy Counter of the horse room I frequent, and Istopped on my way to the hundred-dollar window for a moment to heartheir childish prattle. They were doping the forms for the sixth atHialeah, I believe, when one of them digressed to say: 'My Mommy doesn'tplay the horses. She thinks all the horse rooms should be closed.'
"It wrung my heart, gentlemen, to hear that. I wanted to take thatlittle boy aside and tell him: 'Son, your Mommy doesn't have to play thehorses. Nobody has to play the horses unless he wants to. But as long asone single person wants to lay a bet on a horse and another person iswilling to take it, nobody has the right to say the horse rooms shouldbe closed.' Naturally I did not take the little boy aside and tell himthat. It would have been an impractical approach to the problem. The_practical_ approach is the one I have always advocated and still do.Strike at the heart of the infection! Destroy the remnants of Governmentand cauterize the wound so that it will never re-infect again. Nor is mylanguage too strong. When I realize that the mind of an innocent childhas been corrupted so that he will prattle that the liberties of hisbrothers must be infringed on, that their harmless pleasures must becurtailed, my blood runs cold and I call it what it is: _treason_."
Orsino had listened raptly to the words and joined in a burst ofspontaneous applause that swept around the table. He had never had abrush with Government himself and he hardly believed in the existence ofthe shadowy, terrorist D.A.R., but Reiner had made it sound so near andmenacing!
But Uncle Frank was on his feet. "We seem to have strayed from thepoint," he said dryly. "For anybody who needs his memory refreshed, I'llstate that the point is two assassinations and one near miss. I fail tosee the connection, if any with Dick Reiner's paranoid delusions ofpersecution. I especially fail to see the relevance of the word'treason.' Treason to what--us? The Syndic is not a government. It mustnot become enmeshed in the symbols and folklore of a government or itwill be first chained and then strangled by them. The Syndic is anorganization of high morale and easy-going, hedonistic personality. Thefact that it succeeded the Government occurred because the Governmenthad become an organization of low morale and inflexible, puritanic,sado-masochistic personality. I have no illusions about the Syndiclasting forever, and I hope nobody else here has. Naturally I want it tolast our lifetime, my children's lifetime, and as long after that as Ican visualize my descendants, but don't think I have any burningaffection for my unborn great-great grandchildren. Now, if there isanybody here who doesn't want it to last that long, I suggest to himthat the quickest way to demoralize the Syndic is to adopt Dick Reiner'sproposal of a holy war for a starter. From there we can proceed to aninternal heresy hunt, a census, excise taxes, income taxes and wars ofaggression. Now, what about getting back to the assassinations?"
Orsino shook his head, thoroughly confused by now. But the confusionvanished as a girl entered the room, whispered something in the ear ofEdward Falcaro and sat down calmly by his side. He wasn't the only onewho noticed her. Most of the faces there registered surprise and someindignation. The Syndic had a very strong tradition of masculinity.
Edward Falcaro ignored the surprise and indignation. He said placidly:"That was very interesting, Frank, what I understood of it. But it'salways interesting when I go ahead and do something because it's thesmart thing to do, and then listen to you explain my reasons--includingfifty or sixty that I'm more than positive never crossed my mind."
There was a laugh around the table that Charles Orsino thought wasunfair. He knew, Edward Falcaro knew, and everybody knew that Taylorcredited Falcaro with sound intuitive judgment rather than analyticpower. He supposed the old man--intuitively--had decided a laugh wasneeded to clear the air of the quarrel and irrelevance.
Falcaro went on: "The way things stand now, gentlemen, we don't knowvery much, do we?" He bit a fresh cigar and lighted it meditatively.From a cloud of rank smoke he said: "So the thing to do is find outmore, isn't it?" In spite of the beard and the cigar, there wassomething of a sly, teasing child about him. "So what do you say toslipping one of our own people into the Government to find out whetherthey're dealing in assassination or not?"
Charles Orsino alone was naive enough to speak; the rest knew that theold man had something up his sleeve. Charles said: "You can't do it,sir! They have lie-detectors and drugs and all sorts of things--" Hisvoice died down miserably under Falcaro's too-benign smile and the looksof irritation verging on disgust from the rest. The enigmatic girlscowled. _Goddam them all!_ Charles thought, sinking into his chair andwishing he could sink into the earth.
"The young man," Falcaro said blandly, "speaks the truth--no less truefor being somewhat familiar to us all. But what if we have a way to getaround the drugs and lie-detectors, gentlemen? Which of you bold fellowswould march into the jaws of death by joining the Government, spying onthem and trying to report back?"
Charles stood up, prudence and timidity washed away by a burning need tomake up for his embarrassment with a grandstand play. "I'll go, sir," hesaid very calmly. _And if I get killed that'll show 'em; then they'll besorry._
"Good boy," Edward Falcaro said briskly, with a well-that's that air."The young lady here will take care of you."
Charles steadily walked down the long room to the head of the table,thinking that he must be cutting a rather fine figure. Uncle Frankruined his exit by catching his sleeve and halting him as he passed hisseat. "Good luck, Charles," Uncle Frank whispered. "And for Heaven'ssake, keep a better guard up. Can't you see the old devil planned itthis way from the beginning?"
"Good-bye, Uncle Frank," Charles said, suddenly feeling quite sick as hewalked on. The young lady rose and opened the door for him. She wasgraceful as a cat, and a conviction overcame Charles Orsino that he wasthe canary.
The Syndic Page 4
