Free Ransom by Jon Cleary Page A

called with a message from the Knights of Columbus. He read it out as if he was saving the price of a telegram. We shall pray for you today and vote for you tomorrow. I thanked him on both counts.”
    “I’m a lapsed atheist,” Forte told Malone; for the first time he showed a trace of humour. “You might say I’ve been reconverted by three million Catholic voters - they got me back into the Church quicker than the Vatican ever could. With a name like Malone, are you a Catholic?”
    “My Old Lady says I am. Until I married, when she still did my ironing for me, she used to damp my shirts with holy water.” But Malone grinned this time and Forte learned a little more about the man opposite him: at least he seemed to have a sense of humour. “I don’t know that she pressed much faith back into me. Except in the last hour and a half I’ve noticed I’ve been doing some praying.”
    “Me too.” As if to relieve the slight embarrassment of his confession, Forte looked up at Pearl and smiled. “Manny is trying to get me on the side of Judaism, too.”
    “Over a million voters in New York alone,” said Pearl, but he couldn’t manage a smile and he gave up. “Sorry. It’s not funny, is it? Jokes aren’t gonna help.”
    Malone wondered if Lisa, wherever she was, was finding anything funny. He tried to remember how she had looked when she had gone out of the hotel: he could not remember what she had been wearing, but yes, she had been smiling, but it had been with love not humour. Abruptly he said, “Christ, do we have to sit here and do nothingV
    “What can we do?” But Forte got up and illustrated his own frustration by moving restlessly about the room. “I have to stay here for that next phone call. Did you cancel all my appointments for this afternoon, Manny?”
    “Not all.” All his life Manny Pearl had had an adjustable focus on the world: sometimes you took the long view, but you also played every moment as it came. Nothing was ever gained by cancelling appointments well in advance that

    could be cancelled at the last moment. “I’ve cancelled everything up till four o’clock. At four you are supposed to shake hands with the United Nations delegation that is looking over City Hall - “
    “Jesus, do I have to do that?”
    “It seemed to me the least demanding of your appointments. It will show you are carrying on with your job.”
    “Always the goddam image! You disappoint me sometimes, Manny.”
    “I’m sure I do,” said Pearl, unruffled; and went on, “At four-thirty you were supposed to start touring the campaign offices, thanking your workers for what they’ve done for you. I’ll just send out a message to each of the ward captains in your name. I hate to say it, but we can’t postpone the election tomorrow.”
    “I could withdraw my name - ” But the threat was halfhearted and Forte knew it. So, too, did Malone and Manny Pearl.
    “What’s the point, Mike?” Pearl suddenly stepped out of the role of personal assistant, became a friend, looked twice as worried. “Sylvia could be back with you this evening-and your wife, too, Inspector -” Pearl was not being diplomatically polite when he glanced at Malone; his sad eyes were too full of honest sympathy. “I think we have to be optimistic - “
    Sharp at three o’clock the phone rang. By then Sam Forte, Hungerford and Cartwright had returned. They came in individually, with the air of men come back to hear a doctor’s diagnosis that they feared. Michael Forte took the phone.
    “Who are you? It was a woman who called this morning.”
    “We’re partners - don’t worry which one of us makes the calls, Mr Forte.” There was a chuckle at the other end of the line, almost a giggle. The woman this morning had been soft-voiced, almost polite; but this man’s voice had a ragged edge to it and Forte heard danger. “The message is the same, you hear? We want those five guys outa The Tombs soon’s

    you like to let ‘em go. You made