Free (1969) The Seven Minutes by Irving Wallace

this to hurt our friendship.’
    ‘Don’t worry,’ said Zelkin. ‘I like rich friends, too.’
    Barrett signed the credit-card charge slip, put down a tip, and consulted his wristwatch. ‘I’d better hustle.I’ve got less than a half hour to get downtown to the Hall of Justice and our Mr Duncan. You don’t mind if I rush off, Abe? Remember, it is my farewell performance as a do-gooder - a do-gooder who also wants to clean up his last debt.’
    It was three minutes before his scheduled appointment when Mike Barrett strode toward the half-century-old building where District Attorney Elmo Duncan had his headquarters and exerted control over 260 lawyers in his department. Above the high arched entrance, chiseled into stone, were the intimidating words hall of justice.
    Pushing through one of the doors, Barrett hastened down the short flight of steps, went past the familiar lobby arcade with its numerous food-and-drink-vending machines, and caught the elevator. On the sixth floor, he found the curved modernistic reception desk, and he was directed straight ahead through another doorway into another broad corridor. Across from the press room he came upon the door with lettering painted on its glass panel that said ‘Elmo Duncan, District Attorney.’
    Inside, there was a medium-sized room with two desks. On the one to his left was a name marker for ‘Lt Hogan,’ whom Barrett knew to be the District Attorney’s driver and bodyguard. The chair at this desk was unoccupied. Across the room, past the grouping of extra chairs and beside a copying machine, was the other desk, a busier-looking one, and this one was occupied. Not until Barrett had reached the clacking typewriter did the receptionist become aware of him. She looked up apologetically as he introduced himself. Quickly consulting her appointment sheet, she nodded and told Barrett that District Attorney Duncan was expecting him in the office of Mr Victor Rodriguez,” his special assistant and chief of the Appellate Division. Mr Rodriguez’ office was at the opposite end of the corridor. She would buzz the District Attorney and alert him that Mr Barrett was on his way.
    Retracing his route, Barrett continued up the corridor until he came to the Appellate Division. As he entered, the lone occupant of the room, a pretty, brown-haired girl, ceased typing and stood up. ‘Mr Barrett ? Right this way. The District Attorney can see you now.’
    She held open a door to an inner office, and Barrett thanked her and walked past her. Two men were standing beside a table that was backed up against a desk, and they were deep in conversation.
    Barrett recognized Elmo Duncan at once. He was the taller of the pair, at least six feet tall. He had slick blond hair, narrow blue eyes, a thin nose and a cleft chin. His complexion was light and faintly freckled. He was tastefully dressed in a tailored blue alpaca suit and a blue-and-white striped shirt. His companion, stockier, had jet-black curly hair and a swarthy face with a conspicuous nose over a neatly trimmed but full moustache.
    The moment that the door had closed behind Barrett, Duncan looked up, broke off his conversation and came forward with a broad smile and an extended hand. Shaking hands, he said, ‘Good to see you, Mr Barrett. Sorry to give you all that legwork. I can only get things done when I slip out of my office. Victor and I -Oh, perhaps you two haven’t met. This is Victor Rodriguez, my assistant. Victor, meet Mike Barrett, one of our more successful attorneys.’
    Barrett shook Rodriguez’ hand as Duncan stood beside them.
    ‘Mr Rodriguez will be leaving us - he has an outside meeting -unless you need him here,’ said Duncan. ‘You said you wanted to discuss the - the - What was that fellow’s name?’
    ‘Ben Fremont,’ said Rodriguez.
    ‘Yes, Fremont,’ said Duncan. ‘Well, Victor Rodriguez is the man in charge of our pornography cases. Of course, like everything else, I review them, but if you’d