The Henderson Equation by Warren Adler Read Free Book Online

pointed a finger at Gold. "You, too."
    He had interpreted McCarthy's reaction as vindication.
Walking back to the anteroom, he gripped Luigi's arm.
    "You got lots of balls, Luigi," Nick told him.
"We're going to do right by you."
    The little man stood up, smiling.
    "I know I comma to da righta place. You a gooda
boy." He took Nick's hand. For a moment, Nick thought he was going to kiss
it. Instead he held it awkwardly in his rough hands and shook it, tears welling
in his eyes. Nick watched as he walked off, bowlegged in his baggy pants.
    Later, in Shanley's, over their first beer, Nick told
Charlie what had happened.
    "You are unquestionably the dumbest asshole I have
ever met," Charlie had exploded. "Do you really believe that he'll
allow that story to see the light of print?"
    Nick looked at his watch. The Bulldog would roll in less
than half an hour.
    "Yes," he said, firmly but hesitantly. Charlie
drained his beer glass and wiped his lips with the back of his hand. "Now,
dummy. Lesson one. That telephone was a direct line to the Police Chief.
McCarthy is hooked in by private wire. Lesson two. Police corruption is a
purely political matter. We don't go after the cops unless there is good
political return for the paper. Lesson three. All, well almost all, New York cops are on the take. It's a way of life. It's hardly news in itself. Not to our
readers."
    McCarthy sat with the Police Chief at a table in the
corner, their heads bowed together in intense conversation.
    "I can't believe it," Nick said, looking at his
watch. "You've got to be kidding. Paying off the police is corruption,
pure, unvarnished, raw corruption. I can understand screening the news, but
things like police corruption, Charlie, are just too blatant to suppress. I
mean we're supposed to be the little man's friend."
    "Jesus, don't lay that shit on me," Charlie said,
motioning to the bartender for a refill. They both watched as the bartender
pulled the tab lever and the amber brew foamed in the glasses. He jerked a
thumb in the direction of McCarthy.
    "Does that little scene look like an adversary
relationship?" Charlie asked.
    Nick watched the two men drinking together. Occasionally
one of them would explode in laughter. His optimism waned.
    "We didn't attack the whole force. Only the corruption
of a few."
    "The whole thing is corrupt, from top to bottom,"
Charlie said, downing his beer in a huge gulp.
    "But we're the press, Charlie. We can keep them honest
by telling the truth."
    "The truth? What the hell is that?"
    "The truth is"--Nick hesitated--"the
truth." He pouted.
    "The truth is whatever McCarthy decides."
    "But he's only one man."
    "He decides," Charlie said emphatically.
"Don't assume that his truth is the same as yours."
    "But in this case," Nick protested, "it's a
clear-cut case of police persecution. The man was injured by the people paid to
protect him."
    "So?"
    "It demands to be told. If you don't tell it, they'll
continue to repeat the same damned thing."
    "Who gives a shit about one lousy little
greaseball?"
    "I do, damn it."
    "Stop bleeding all over the bar."
    Nick felt his anger rising. Charlie seemed to sense it and
softened.
    "Try to see it from McCarthy's point of view,"
Charlie said. "He could run the story and embarrass the shit out of the
Police Department. But he's a lot smarter than that. He'll just file it away,
use it as collateral. Trade-off for a closer relationship with the Chief. Think
of all the story leads we'll get, the inside dope. This damned rag comes out
every day. Every damned day. What's one poor little guy against that? It's a
trade-off."
    "It's blackmail," Nick said. "And it's
wrong."
    "As for your Italian friend," Charlie said,
brightening, "the Chief will bust the asses of those cops. But not for the
reasons you think. They were stupid."
    A nightside reporter came in for a quick shot. He carried
the Bulldog under his arm. Nick slid it out from the crook in the man's arm and
thumbed through it hurriedly, tearing