Chapter Eight

‘You presume, Mr. Reynolds!’ Elizabeth Scarlatti was seething. Her vehemence was directed at the old man who stood calmly in front of her, peering over his glasses. ‘I do not countenance presumptuous people and I will not abide liars!’

‘I’m sorry. I really am.’

‘You got this appointment under false pretenses. Senator Brownlee told me you represented the Land Acquisition Agency and your business concerned the transactions between Scarlatti and the Department of the Interior.’

‘That’s exactly what he believes.’

‘Then he’s a bigger fool than I think he is. And now you threaten me! Threaten me with secondhand inflammatory gossip about my son! I trust you’re prepared to be cross-examined in court.’

‘Is that what you want?’

‘You may force me to it!… I don’t know your position, but I do know a great many people in Washington and I’ve never heard of you. I can only conclude that if someone like you can carry such tales, others must have heard them too. Yes, you may force me into court. I won’t tolerate such abuse!’

‘Suppose it’s true?’

‘It isn’t true and you know it as well as I do! There’s no reason on earth why my son would involve himself in… in such activities. He’s wealthy in his own right! Both my sons have trust funds that return annual incomes of—let’s be honest—preposterous sums.’

‘Then we have to eliminate profit as a motive, don’t we?’ Benjamin Reynolds wrinkled his brow.

‘We eliminate nothing for there is nothing! If my son has caroused a bit, he’s to be criticized—not branded a criminal! And if you’re using the gutter tactic of maligning the name Scarlatti because of its origin, you’re contemptible and I’ll have you dismissed!’

Benjamin Reynolds, slow to anger, was reaching a dangerous level of irritation. He had to remind himself that this old woman was guarding her house and was more difficult than she would have been in other circumstances.

‘I wish you wouldn’t think of me as an enemy. I’m neither an enemy nor a bigot. Frankly, I resent the second implication more than I do the first.’

‘Again you presume,’ interrupted Elizabeth Scarlatti. ‘I don’t grant you the stature of an enemy. I think you’re a little man using malicious slander for your own ends.’

‘Ordering a man’s murder is not malicious slander!’

‘What did you say?’

‘It’s the most serious charge we have—But there are mitigating circumstances if it’s any comfort to you.’

The old woman stared at Benjamin Reynolds in contempt. He ignored the look. ‘The man who was murdered—the one whose death your son ordered—was a known killer himself—A captain of a freighter who worked with the worst elements on the waterfront. He was responsible for a great deal of killing.’

Elizabeth Scarlatti rose from her chair. ‘I won’t tolerate this,’ she said quietly. ‘You make the most damaging accusation possible and then you retreat behind a wall of implied judgment.’

‘These are strange times, Madame Scarlatti. We can’t be everywhere. We don’t want to be, frankly. We don’t lament the gangster wars. Let’s face it. Often they accomplish more than we can.’

‘And you put my son in this… this category?’

‘I didn’t put him anywhere. He did it himself.’ Elizabeth walked slowly from her desk to a front window overlooking the street. ‘How many other people in Washington know about this outrageous gossip?’

‘Everything I’ve told you?’

‘Anything.’

‘There were a few rumors at Treasury. Nothing anyone wanted to run down. About the rest, only my immediate subordinate and the man who was the witness.’

‘Their names?’

‘Oh, no.’

‘I can easily find out.’

‘It wouldn’t do you any good.’

Elizabeth turned. ‘I see.’

‘I wonder if you do?’

‘Whatever you think, I’m not an idiot. I don’t believe a word of this. But I don’t want the name of Scarlatti impugned—-

‘How much, Mr. Reynolds?’

Group Twenty’s director returned Elizabeth’s stare without giving quarter. ‘Nothing. Not a penny, thank you… I’ll go further. You tempt me to bring charges against you.’

‘You stupid old man!’

‘Damn it to hell, cut it out!… All I want is the truth!… No, that’s not all I want. I want it stopped. Before anyone else gets hurt. That much is due to a decorated hero. Especially in these crazy times… And I want to know why!’

‘To speculate would be to grant your premise. I refuse to do that!’

‘By Jesus! You’re a rough bird.’

‘More than you realize!’

‘Can’t you understand?… It’s not going any further! It ends here! That is, it will if you can stop any future… activity, as you call it. We figure you can do that… But I’d think you’d want to know why. Since we both know your son is rich—why?’

Elizabeth simply stared at him and Reynolds knew she wouldn’t answer. He’d done what he could, said what he had to say. The rest was up to her.

‘Good day, Madame Scarlatti—I should tell you. I’ll be watching the Scarlatti padrone.’

‘The who?’

‘Ask your son.’

Reynolds trudged out of the room. People like Elizabeth Scarlatti tired him out. Probably, he thought, because he didn’t believe they were worth it all. The giants never were.

Elizabeth—still by the window—watched the old man close the door behind him. She waited until she saw him descend the front steps and walk west towards Fifth Avenue.

The old man looked up at the figure in the window and their eyes met. Neither acknowledged.