Free Star Chamber Brotherhood by Preston Fleming Page B

rules and regulations is to ensure that everybody becomes a lawbreaker. Then whoever is in charge can apply the rules selectively to punish anyone they want, anyone who refuses to toe the line or gets in the way of progress.”
    “If I’ve made enemies, I have absolutely no idea who they are,” Carol replied indignantly. “Believe me, Frank, I don’t think I’ve ever knowingly made trouble for anyone at the hospital. And I’m probably the last person anyone there could describe as overly competitive or ambitious.”
    “Might someone be jealous of you?”
    “Jealous!” she exclaimed bitterly. “Why on earth would anybody be jealous of me? In the past three years I’ve lost my husband, my stepson, my house, and what little money I had. My humble life consists of shuttling back and forth between the hospital, the free clinic, and my apartment. What would anyone possibly want from me that they could have only by getting rid of me?”
    “I can think of one thing, perhaps. And it’s not my ruggedly handsome body, by the way.”
    Carol Dodge smiled.
    “I wouldn’t rule that out quite so quickly,” she replied with an amorous look. “But do go on.”
    “What about your apartment?”
    “This place? You must be joking.”
    “No, bear with me for a moment,” Werner requested. “In Soviet Russia, many people denounced their neighbors to the KGB and had them sent to the camps just for a few more square meters of living space. And like the Soviets and every other dictatorship, the Unionist regime’s very existence depends on the networks of informants it employs to root out dissidents.”
    “Yes, so?”  
    “Well, those informants and their handlers learn very quickly that their rewards come only when they supply derogatory information. From there, it’s only short leap to fabrication. So, once the informants realize that they can get nearly anything they want by throwing inconvenient people under the bus, false denunciations become the currency of the day. And, in that case, why not tattle on the uppity doctor on the sixth floor whose apartment is far too large and could be used far better by your needy and deserving relatives?”
    “Frank, shame on you!” Carol scolded. “You’re not really accusing Harriet of denouncing me to the security police, are you? I know you can be cynical sometimes, but this is beyond cynicism; it’s paranoia.”
    “All right, Carol. I plead guilty to all of the above,” Werner admitted. “But that doesn’t make it inaccurate. I realize that you’re loyal to Harriet. But think about it. Squatters suddenly target your building. Then, out of the blue, the Housing Authority gives notice that they want to measure your apartment. So you tell your admin people at the hospital to get you a waiver. But, before the waiver can go through, you lose your job. Now, who knew about the squatters and the notice from the BHA and your waiver request? Who had the motive and opportunity to tell the BHA that a certain waivered tenant was illegally treating patients in an underground clinic and had taken in a lodger who doesn’t have a Boston residence permit? Who other than Harriet?”
      “That’s a truly horrible thing to say, Frank,” she replied coldly.
    “Whether it’s horrible or not is irrelevant. The question is whether or not it’s true.”  

    ****

    The patron seated at the far end of the bar was on his second Old Fashioned before Werner paid much attention to him. He was a short, slightly built man in a British-cut green tweed jacket, polka-dot bow tie and rounded horn-rimmed eyeglasses that gave him an owlish look. Though past normal retirement age, he projected a vitality that made Werner think of him as still active in a profession like law, finance, or medicine. The man’s inquisitive eyes swept the room continuously as if he were waiting for others to join him.  
    Werner could not shake the feeling that he knew the man from a time in Boston before his arrest. He