Nemesis: The Final Case of Eliot Ness (23 page)

"Maybe."

"You can't pay them."

"I won't have to."

"It'll be chaos."

"It already is. But I can tolerate some chaos. If it gets us our killer."

"Listen to me!" Merylo bellowed, trying to be heard above the roaring crowd. "I need your help!"

"You sure do!" someone shouted back. Half the crowd laughed in response. The noise was thunderous.

Merylo began to wonder if this had been a very bad idea. He was perched on a wooden ledge on the edge of the pond, atop a dumping platform, to increase his visibility to the crowd.

"Listen to me. Please!"

Eventually, the tumult subsided. "We need to search the area. The whole Run. Look for clues. A head, for instance. Maybe a witness who saw the body get dumped."

"Isn't that what the police are for?"

"The police are stretched to the outer limits. We got all these conventions in town, plus these murders and a lot of other crime. It would take days for my men to search the area, and by that time the trail might be cold."

"What's in it for us?" someone shouted. "We need cash."

"I can't pay you."

"If you don't pay, we don't work."

"Why? You got something better to do?" That got a large laugh. Merylo liked it better when they were laughing with him, not at him. There were a lot more of them than there were of him. "Listen, some of you people live out here. Do you like having this killer running around slaughtering people? Do you feel safe?"

"No!" came a chorus of replies.

"Then help me stop him. Be my foot soldiers. I'll be here all night long. If any of you find something, you report back to me. Let me split you up into groups so you can canvass the area. Systematically. There's enough of you to cover the whole Run before nightfall. What do you say?"

As Merylo expected, he received a mixed response. That was okay. He didn't need all of them.

"All right then. If you're willing to help, line up over here. Let's send a message to this monster. Let's tell him that if he goes after the Run-we'll go after him!"

Another enthusiastic response. Merylo felt like Henry the Fifth on the eve of battle. These people would probably encounter less danger. But they were no less important to the cause.

He gazed out into the crowd. What a motley, ragtag assortment of humanity. He saw men in tattered clothes; he saw men in three-piece suits. He saw sunbaked faces and calloused hands; he saw men who obviously had never done a day's labor in their life. He saw some who had already ruined their lives with booze or drugs; he saw some whose lives were just beginning. The employer and the unemployed. The book-educated and the street smart. And a few who appeared to have no smarts at all. Didn't matter. He could use them all.

"All right, you four, take the east side of Thirty-seventh and walk due north until you reach the tracks..."

The last guest arrived just after midnight. Ness intentionally kept the lights dim in the apartment, ostensibly because he didn't want to attract attention, but more importantly because he wanted to strike the proper mood, one of mystery and intrigue. He had to ignite these men's sense of adventure for his plan to succeed. He knew many of them read the pulp magazines that were so popular these days-even if they would never admit it; he'd seen one in The Banker's briefcase. The Shadow, The Spider, Doc Savage, Weird Tales. Ness had read one or two himself, when he had time and he was sure no one was watching. They seemed to thrive on exotic wonders, on the premise that the reader was being inducted into a secret society known only to a chosen few. That was exactly the kind of atmosphere he wanted to create tonight.

The Banker offered Ness his hand.

Ness shook it firmly. "Thanks again for coming, Lou."

"Well, I owed you for that business at The Thomas-"

"I remember."

"I appreciate your keeping my name out of your reports."

"You weren't who I was after."

"Appreciated, just the same. So I came and I brought some friends, just as you asked. What's this all about?"

"I'll tell you in just a moment."

"When did you get this Clifton Boulevard apartment? I thought you and the missus had a nice place out by the lake."

"We... do," Ness said, clearing his throat. "I just use this when I have to stay out late." He smiled a little. "In my line of work, I often have to work nights."

"I can imagine. Gotta catch the wolves while they're on the prowl."

"Exactly." Ness entered the main living room where he joined The Steel Magnate, The Meat Packer, The Uptown Physician, The Councilman, The Prosecutor, The Railroad Tycoon, The Oil Baron, The Architect, and The Radio Magnate. All the captains of industry were gathered together in one room. "I suppose you're wondering why I've invited you here. I'm hoping you can help me solve a problem. And I suspect that you already know what that might be."

"Well, I'm guessing you aren't going to ask us to buy more traffic lights," The Oil Baron said.

"No, I'm not. Although I would like to see more of you involved with my Boys Clubs. Those lads need strong role models-like every one of you. Men who have worked hard and made something of themselves. Men who can show these boys that even if they've got nothing to their name, fortitude and determination-"

Ness stopped and smiled. "Now see what you've done, Paul. You got me totally off track."

"Didn't take much," The Oil Baron commented.

"No, I'll admit, I'm passionate about the Boys Clubs. I wish the press were as interested as I am. Unfortunately, these days they only seem to be interested in one thing."

"Here it comes," The Railroad Tycoon said, his bushy gray eyebrows dancing up and down.

"I'm sure you saw this coming. Gentlemen, I need your help catching this cold-blooded killer who walks among us. The Torso Murderer."

Someone in the rear of the room whistled. "Tall order."

"Yes, it is. That's why I asked Lou to only invite tall men, people who aren't afraid to reach for difficult goals others might find unattainable. I know we can catch this murderer. If we work together."

"But haven't you already got a team working on this case?" The Uptown Physician asked. "He's in the paper almost every day. That stout fellow-what's his name? Murrow..."

"Merylo. Yes, he's the chief detective, leading the police department's investigation. And he's a fine man-intelligent, skilled, experienced. Tenacious. Pugnacious. He has a fine track record." Ness spread his hands. "And you see what his efforts have produced. Absolutely nothing."

"Maybe you need to replace him."

"I've considered it, believe me. But I genuinely believe that he is the best, most qualified man for the job. And I trust him, which counts for a lot. No, my friends, I don't want to replace him. I want to supplement him."

The Meat Packer ground out his cigar in an ashtray. "I don't see what we could do to help. I certainly don't know my way around Kingsbury Run, and I doubt if anyone else in this room does."

Ness dropped his voice a notch. "What you need to understand, gentlemen, is that although Peter Merylo is a fine detective, he has two major handicaps. First, he is absolutely dogged by the press. They watch every move he makes. Consequently, the killer can watch him, too. And second..." Ness's voice fell even lower. "The second handicap is that Detective Merylo is absolutely dogged by the law."

He paused a few moments, letting the words sink in before he continued.

"You may have noticed that I did not invite any newspapermen here tonight, even though several of them are among the richest and most prominent men in our society. There's a reason for that. I suppose the fourth estate plays an important role in our democracy-although sometimes I wonder-and I know that many of you have occasionally had cause to wonder yourselves."

A chorus of vaguely assenting grunts passed through the room.

"I need men who can move without being watched. I need men who can get close to this killer without having a photographer following in their footsteps. We'll never catch this butcher so long as he knows everything we're doing."

"Makes sense," The Meat Packer said, as he snipped his next cigar. "Perfect sense."

"And," Ness added, "we don't want the press watching our every move if our men are engaging in... unorthodox procedures."

The Banker chuckled. "Now we're getting to the heart of it."

"That's right," Ness agreed. "We are. Some of you who are familiar with my activities in Chicago "-he knew that would be all of them- "will recall that I occasionally was forced to... stretch the law here and there to get the job done. And I took some flack for it now and again. But I closed the case." He looked out into the crowd, letting the overhead light strike his eyes. "I think we need that sort of approach here."

"What exactly are you proposing?" The Banker asked.

"I want to appoint an independent team of investigators. Men outside the control of the police force."

"Where will you find them?"

"Leave that to me. I know who I want. After chasing Capone in Chicago and moonshiners in Tennessee and everything I did in Cleveland before I was safety director, I know a lot of people. Good people. Strong men."

"What do you want them to do?"

"Whatever they need to do, without having to worry every second about whether they're violating someone's constitutional rights. I want them to go where they need to go and talk to whoever they need to talk to."

"All for the greater good?" The Uptown Physician said. "Forgive me, Eliot, but you're sounding a bit like that fellow over in Italy."

"I don't think so. I'm not trying to take over. I just want this killer caught."

"In a bit of a sticky situation, aren't you?" The Banker asked. "You made big promises to the reporters. Now they're expecting you to deliver."

"And you want us to help you do it," The Meat Packer added.

"Perhaps," The Architect interjected, "you should have consulted us before you made the big promises."

Ness could feel the tide turning against him. He knew he had to move quickly. "I can't change what's already done. I probably did speak imprudently, in the heat of the moment. But that's not what matters. The only important question is this: Do you want this killer caught? Many of you talk about philanthropy, and noblesse oblige and the responsibilities of the very wealthy. Well, here's a chance to really do something. Here's a chance to eliminate a dire threat to this community." He stopped for a moment and made eye contact with each of the assembled men. "And let me remind you, gentlemen, that the killer has recently made inroads into the west side. Who knows where he might strike next?"

Silence blanketed the room. Whatever growing dissent there might have been before had been stifled.

"What is it you want us to do, Eliot?" The Railroad Tycoon asked. "Surely you don't want us to be your elite team of lawless investigators?"

Ness disregarded the dubious phrasing. "No. I'll find the men. But good men must be paid. And that's what I need from you. Financing. Financing that must be kept completely off any official books or records."

"And how do you expect us to accomplish that?"

"I don't know," Ness said, and for the first time that evening, his eyes showed a bit of their characteristic twinkle. "But having worked in the Treasury Department for many years, I have a suspicion that many of you
do know how to do it."

More harrumphing, followed by a few winks and eyes averted toward the rug.

"I have a question," The Meat Packer said.

"What would that be?"

"If we sign on for this-does that make us Untouchables?"

Ness sighed. "I get that a lot."

"I might fancy that," The Uptown Physician said. "Imagine telling the little woman I've become an Untouchable."

"Which of your little women would that be?" The Architect asked, followed by the loudest round of laughter yet.

"Stop right there," Ness said. "If you sign on for this-for that matter, even if you don't-you can tell no one. Absolutely no one. I've learned how quickly an operation can be compromised by leaks. You can't tell your friends, your wives, your mistresses. No one."

He took a deep breath, then opted to answer the question. "No, I don't think you'll become the Untouchables. I think you'll become... the Unknowns. My problem here isn't that I think the killer is buying people off. My problems are the press and the law. I need people who can work under the cover of darkness, in the shadows. People only accountable to me. And unknown to everyone else."

The Meat Packer nodded approvingly and ground out his cigar. "The Unknowns. I like that. Sounds like something out of a Charlie Chan picture."

"Charlie Chan never faced any criminal like this, gentlemen. But I don't need him, or any of his many sons. All I need is your help. Your support. Can I count you in?"

To his dismay, there was no immediate response, no reaction of any kind. At first, the men appeared to be looking from one to another, checking faces, wondering who would go first. If anyone.

"Supposing you catch this maniac," The Oil Baron said. "Will you acknowledge our help then?"

"Probably not," Ness answered. "That might get us all thrown in jail. Or spoil a prosecutor's case."

"Not much of an investment if there's no chance of a return," The Banker sniffed.

"No argument," Ness replied. "There's nothing in this for you at all. It's just the right thing to do."

"Can't even use it to impress women," The Uptown Physician groused.

"Gentlemen, please." Ness tried not to let his voice sound pleading. He knew that would not be effective with men such as these. "Think of the safety of the city. The people. Those victims."

"I'll tell you what I'm thinking about," said The Councilman, speaking for the first time this evening. "My daughter Joan walks home sometimes, even though I tell her not to. Won't take a cab, says she likes to stretch her legs. She walks almost the same way that Barkley woman did. The one who found the corpse on the west side."