The Loves of Harry Dancer by Lawrence Sanders Read Free Book Online Page B

he can take him. But he isn’t certain.
    “I’m listening,” he says.
    “You’re working for a guy named Glitner,” Briscoe says. “I figure you’re clipping him for a bill a day. Maybe two. Whatever. No skin off my nose. You keep on working for Glitner just the way you have been. But I’ll slip you a hundred a day extra if you report to me first.”
    “That’s unethical,” Tischman says.
    Briscoe laughs. Not a pleasant sound. “Yeah, isn’t it. Also, when you report to me first, there may be some things I won’t want you to tell Glitner.”
    “That’s worth more than a hundred.”
    “Sure it is. But a hundred is all you’re getting.”
    “No deal,” Tischman says.
    “That’s a cute kid you’ve got,” Briscoe says. “What’s her name—Mary Jane? Blond curls. Waits on your corner for the school bus every morning. Pretty. And healthy.”
    “You prick,” Tischman says. Fear bubbling.
    “Is it a deal?”
    The detective doesn’t hesitate. “How do I contact you?”
    “I’ll be in touch,” Briscoe says. Climbs out of the car. “Ta-ta.”
    Briscoe finds a phone booth. Calls the office. Gives his ID number and the day’s code word. He finally gets through to the Regional Director.
    “I’ve got Tischman, sir,” he reports. “He’s ours.”
    “Good work,” the Director says. “And I like the way you handled the Blaine problem. Where is Dancer now?”
    “In Sally’s motel.”
    “Then everything’s going according to plan.”
    “So far,” Briscoe says.
    “You sound a little unsure. Anything wrong?”
    “Nothing definite, Director. Just a vague feeling I have about Sally Abaddon. I think she may be weakening.”
    “Oh? That would be a sad development. I’d hate to lose her after all these years.”
    “Just the way I feel, sir.”
    “Well, keep an eye on her, and keep me informed.”
    “Will do.”
    The Regional Director hangs up. Turns slowly in his swivel chair. Stares through the darkly tinted picture window at the towers and beacons of Fort Lauderdale. Murky world. Even the sun is muted.
    He stands. Paces up and down in his chairman-of-the-board suit. Below him, he knows, computers are humming. Teletypers chattering. Monitors glowing. Machinery of an efficient organization. Information, communications, intelligence, projections, estimates—everything his for the asking.
    But all that is nothing. The Department depends for its success on people with the passion and will to carry out its policies and philosophy. And people are not machines. They are frail, imperfect, irrational. They remain loyal only as long as it is in their self-interest.
    Take Sally Abaddon, for instance. Faithful. Experienced. Capable. But subject to all the vagaries of humankind. She might desert at any moment. Turn. Put her skills to work for the Corporation. It is possible.
    It is even possible, the Director muses, that he himself might defect. He cannot imagine under what circumstances that could conceivably happen. But he is certain his superiors in Cleveland acknowledge the possibility and have devised a contingency plan.
    Meanwhile, the Regional Director is running about twenty cases with at least a hundred of the Department’s most skilled operatives involved. All those ambitions. Needs. Wants. Greeds. Desires. Vices. And he must be aware of them all. Rewarding the strong. Punishing the weak. Alert always to the potential for betrayal. Even amongst the strongest.
    He tugs down his waistcoat. Smooths his jacket. Straightens his rowel-woven tie. He hunches over his desk. Snaps on the intercom.
    “Norma,” he says, “could you come in for a moment, please.”
    His secretary enters, pad in hand.
    “Close the door,” he tells her.
    She looks at him. Sees. “Shall I lock it, Director?” she asks.
    “Yes,” he says. “Lock it.”

17
    A nthony Glitner knows that in his business, zeal is never enough. After many years as a field agent, and a decade as a case officer, his fervor has been tempered