After they had trooped out, Clay unlocked his private office and focused his telescope on Judge Congdon’s window. The Judge was hard at work, bullying someone on the telephone. Clay put on his hat, bid his staff farewell, went down to the street, entered the Congdon Building, and rode the elevator to the top floor.
Congdon kept him waiting half an hour. When he did allow him into his office, he said, “I’m busy. Make this quick.”
“This may be my last report in person for a while,” said Clay.
Somehow, Isaac Bell had survived. Clay blamed himself. He had made a rare mistake sending assassins instead of doing the job himself and he had no option but to pay the price.
“What’s wrong?” Congdon demanded.
“Suffice it to say that events are on schedule.”
30
Isaac Bell reported to Joseph Van Dorn in Van Dorn’s office twenty minutes after the Pennsylvania Railroad ferry landed at Twenty-third Street.
“I’m afraid Wish got stabbed. The blade missed his vitals, but it was a shock to his system, and he’s out of commission for weeks.”
“Stabbing Aloysius Clarke used to be near impossible. I’ve warned the man a hundred times that drink would slow him down.”
“Not drink,” Bell answered coldly. “He took a knife meant for me.”
Van Dorn lowered his gaze. “Sorry, Isaac. I should not have said that. He’ll be O.K.?”
“I found him the best doctor in Chicago.”
“The agency will pay for it.”
“I already have.”
They sat silent for a moment, Bell biding his time until Van Dorn felt impelled to speak.
“How’d you make out with Rosania?”
“As I hoped. He is indeed studying shaped charges. And so is our provocateur.”
“Is that so?”
“Rosania actually ran into him up in Newport outside the Torpedo Station.”
“You’re sure Rosania wasn’t having you on?”
“Positive. He described a man who looked
very much like the one I’ve seen. He thought he had a Chicago accent, but he swore he’d never seen him before.”
“So if he was from Chicago, he was gone before Rosania went into business.”
“Judging by what Wish and I ran up against, he’s stayed on speaking terms with the Chicago police.”
Van Dorn shrugged. “Money talks to Chicago cops.”
“You’re friends with some, sir. Could you ask around?”
“We won’t stay friends if I just go fishing. Do you happen to have a name I could lay on them?”
“His name is a bit of a dead end so far,” Bell admitted and fell silent again.
At length, Van Dorn asked, “Where’s the rest of your gang?”