“Bób got killed working for you. You sent him out to fix up that policy trouble with Welman. For a talk—just to talk with Welman. Maybe that’s all you thought it was going to be, but you also knew that there might be trouble. You knew Welman for a nut with a gun, and that my brother had more temper than brains. And you sent him out there.”
“Blaming me—” Stoker started, but Port wasn’t listening.
“I didn’t want him to go! I didn’t even want that kid hanging around you!”
Port took a breath and stared at the dark window.
“Blame you?” he said. “I don’t know. I don’t know whom to blame.”
“Now you listen to me.” Stoker put his elbows on the desk and rubbed both hands over his face. When he looked up again he nodded at Port. “You don’t know whom to blame, but I know whom you’re blaming. I’m going to . . .”
Port made an impatient gesture but Stoker didn’t let him talk.
“I’m not done. I know you’re going to ask what this has to do with your staying or leaving, so I’m telling you. Listen. I picked you up broke in New York, broke because you were wet-nursing that brother you had. The kid gets out of the army and falls in with bad companions and you to the rescue. He loses his roll. He gambles himself red, white and blue in the face and you stake him to a comeback.” Stoker sat back and laughed. “All through the war, did you see him, did you nurse him along? No. He’s in the Pacific and you in the ETO. Does he get along without you all that time? Sure he does; never a scratch. But you meet up in New York, you take care of him, and you both end up in the gutter. Right? Answer me!”
“Yeah. So what?”
“So I make a long story short and tell you I pick you up, I take you in, and from then on you started sailing. You and me, Danny, we got along fine because you got respect for a man who shows you what you don’t know and you got it in you to learn.”
“What’s that got to do . . .”
“I said wait.” Stoker lowered his voice. “And all this time you keep wet-nursing the kid brother along. Maybe you thought he was too dumb or maybe you thought I’d take advantage of him, but it comes out the same way: Dan Port, his brother’s keeper.”
“You’re damn right I was my brother’s keeper!”
“You don’t have to yell, Dan. I know. Except for this.” Stoker paused to look up at Port’s face. “Now I’ll tell you why you’re quitting. Your kid brother’s dead and it’s your fault.”
Port didn’t say anything because he knew Stoker was right. He didn’t say anything because he thought Stoker was through.
“All through the war the kid gets along with no help from you. Then you take him in hand and he dies.”
“You said that!”
“To let you hear it. To let you hear that it sounds too good to be true. So now here is the real stinger, why you want to quit.”
They stared at each other and then Stoker didn’t let Port wait any longer.
“The work you’ve been doing for me went along fine and you never batted an eye. You could take it because you were your brother’s keeper. It made all the rest all right, just like having a built-in excuse. Then Bob got killed. You not only failed, Dan; you lost your excuse for sticking around!”
Port was at the window and at the last words he turned around fast, but when he saw Stoker he didn’t talk right away. After a while he talked very evenly.
“Now we both know. Now I leave,” and he got up without looking at Stoker.
“Dan.”
Port stopped, turned around.
“Your brother is dead and you walk out.” Stoker looked up. “But I’m not dead—yet.”
“It’s got nothing to do with you, Max,” Port said to the wall.
“You’re leaving when it’s going to hurt most.”
“You took care of your own before I came along.”
“I wasn’t this sick.” He said it before he could stop himself, and then he went on fast. “You’re walking out with that Reform thing riding the crest. After this dirt in the paper, how long do you think I’m going to hold on to Ward Nine? You know I need that ward, don’t you? You know if they tear down those slums, and spread the voters all over the precincts the way it’s been planned, you know what’ll happen to me, don’t you, Dan?”
“I know.”
“I lose the machine, I lose territory, I lose out with the setup from out of town. And you know what comes then?”
“You’re a sick man, Max. They wouldn’t drop you.”
“That’s why they would. Hard.”
Neither of them said anything for a while and when Stoker talked again he was mumbling.
“If I tell you I need you, Dan—”
“I’m leaving, Max. I’m going to fix up that ward for you, and then I’m leaving.”
Stoker looked down in his lap. “Better I didn’t hear you, Dan. Just fix up that ward and don’t talk.”
Port walked to the door. He nodded his head without looking at Stoker and said, “All right, Max,” and walked out.
Chapter Four
AT EIGHT in the morning Port was ready to go. When he went to the door he looked at the telephone but it didn’t ring this time. Instead there was a knock on the door. Port stood back and said, “Come in.”
He said, “Hi, Simon,” and waved at the bald man to come in. Simon shook his head and grinned. “I brought something over, for a present. You going downstairs?”
Port said yes and they went down in the elevator.
“It’s from the boss. He says I should bring it over with his compliments.”
“Stoker must have had a good night.”
“He arranged it yesterday. Called me up late and told me to bring it over by eight.”
They got out of the elevator and walked through the lobby.
“You staying after all, huh?”
“Sure. So where’s this present?”
“Right outside,” said Simon, and when they got to the street, there was Fries.
Port stopped and gave Simon a disgusted look.
“What’s the matter?” said Simon.
“You just ruined my day.” Port turned to Fries, who came away from the curb where he had been waiting.
“Not him,” said Simon. “He just come along for the . . .”
“Just one word with you, Port,” Fries blinked the eye with the tic.
“Honest, Dan, I wouldn’t play you a trick like that,” said Simon. “I brought you the car. Stoker’s present.”
They all looked at the car by the curb, and Fries had to wait while Port went close to admire it. The car was a long convertible with a black nylon top and metallic gray body.
“It’s a rare one, all right. No two-tone,” said Port.
“And did you see the antennas?” Simon went to the rear. “One on each fender.”
“For tuna fishing,” said Port. “Fries, did you ever go tuna fishing?”
Fries