Case. I sent my people over and offered him the spot on Justice Today. He was an immediate hit. It’s one of the top rated shows on cable. I was thinking of bringing him over to the network.”
“He wants to investigate the Stallings kidnapping. He came by to get my impressions.”
“That’s the best news I’ve heard today,” Doug replied. “We’ll do a feature on Tunnel Vision. If he comes across well, we’ll make him a full-time correspondent.”
“What the hell do you think he is he going to turn up after all these years?”
“Does if really matter? Do a retro piece. Bring it up to date. If he does uncover something it’ll just be a bonus. I’m calling Burns at CTV. I want to set up an appointment with him this afternoon. Meet with him. Give him whatever he wants.”
“I have the Clearwater interview this afternoon, remember?”
“Then meet him afterwards.”
“I thought I’d go over to Thayer Farms. Give them a chance to respond.”
“Let them chew the cud for a day. I want you to meet with Mallory as soon as possible. I’m very excited about this.”
“Sure, Doug. I won’t disappoint you. I’ll deliver him to you as a wedding present.”
“If you can deliver Mallory, I’ve got a real surprise for you.”
“What?”
“How would you like to be the first woman to anchor election night?”
“What about White?”
“You heard me didn’t you? The first woman to anchor election night.”
“I can’t believe it.”
“How’s that cold of yours?” Doug inquired.
“A lot better. A lot better,” she lied.
“Call me later. Let me know how it goes with Mallory.”
Melissa hung up, more unsettled than before. Instead of placing distance between herself and this self-styled egomaniac, she would have to interact with him again. And on his own turf!
“Sally, call Rick Mallory’s office and see if you can get me an appointment for this afternoon.”
“Should I come along?” Sally asked.
“No, Sally. No need. I’ll meet with Mr. Mallory alone.”
Chapter 2
The Iceman Cometh
919 Madison Avenue: MTM Security Associates
“Rick back?” Berg asked Lilly Pearson, Mallory’s secretary.
“Not yet,” she told him.
“What’s he been up to lately? Anything I might be interested in knowing about?”
Lilly had the green light to tell Berg whatever he wanted to know, but she figured she’d torment him a bit. “Can’t say,” she replied.
Moe Berg, or “Ice,” as he was affectionately called by his friends, was the leading crime reporter on the New York beat. Wrote a daily column for the Herald Gazette, a conservative rag and scandal sheet owned by the Australian financier, Elbert Sidonia. Berg was an unqualified sleazebag, no bones about it; would sell out his own grandmother for a story. By his own reckoning, Gazette reporters were one step above child molesters on the food chain. And when Sidonia called all hands on deck, he’d pull out a well-notched hatchet from his desk drawer and place it next to his keyboard. Bleeding heart liberals his specialty. Knocked quite a few out of the box: blacks, gays, media pundits, not to mention Tammany shysters on the take. Below average height but perfectly packaged, he was cut from Ivy League cloth, Dartmouth variety, spoke eloquently with perfect diction and could, on occasion, turn a wily phrase in print. Wire-rimmed glasses with circular frames were his carefully crafted trademark. He had a drawn face with a pointy chin that was dominated by a broad, rounded forehead, flowing black hair that was dry and wavy, with a single immutable strand dangling tactfully above his left eyebrow. Attractive in the secular sense, meaning to some women, particularly those with a brain, his sharp purposeful stare befitted his age, early thirties—just a couple of years older than Mallory. It was him that had dubbed Mallory the Super Sleuth, and it was his vivid writing style that had propelled Mallory into the public spotlight.
“Can’t say or won’t say?”
“Okay, I’ll give you something. Ariel dropped the dime on some scientist at Bonhomme Biome, the company sequencing the ape genome.” Ariel Cohen, head of Industrial Espionage at MTM, was a tall, slinky blonde with a restructured nose and a well-documented chest. “Write her up and I’d wager she’d be most grateful,” Lilly quipped, with a smile.
“She dropped the dime, or was it Pincus?” Berg knew Irving Pincus was the resident genius in Industrial Espionage. A full professor of psychology at City College, Pincus designed the so-called honesty test that narrowed down the suspects then nailed them through projective drawings.
“What’s the difference?” Lilly wanted to know.
“None,” Berg admitted. “I’ll pass though. Nobody gives a hoot or a holler about an alphabet with only four letters. Can’t you give me a line on what Rick’s up to?”
“What makes you think he’s up to anything?” Lilly asked as if taking a peek at the cards in her poker hand.
Berg grasped both armrests of her tweed office chair and tilted it backwards. He lowered his head to just above her right ear. “Nice perfume,” he whispered salaciously.
“The Stallings kidnapping,” she blurted out. Berg had selected the right passkey.
“The kid who disappeared eight years ago?”
“The mother was in last week.”
”Now we got something, gorgeous.”
“That’s off the record till you check with Rick,” she added, post haste.
“Check with Rick about what?” came a voice from behind them. Mallory had entered via the garage elevator.
“The Stallings’ kidnapping,” Berg proclaimed. “You haven’t been holding out on me now, Rick, or have you?”
“Quite the contrary, Ice, I was just about to call you,” Mallory said, winking to Lilly. “How did the Bonhomme thing turn out?” he asked her.
“He confessed,” Lilly told him.
“That should amount to a handsome payday. Ariel must be quite pleased. Why don’t you write her up, Ice. I’d wager she’d be most grateful.”
“That’s what Lilly said. But I’ll pass if you don’t mind.”
“New cases?” he asked Lilly.
“We’re
