“My hat, Tapkow.”
Benny walked to the chair by the French windows and picked up the hat.
“What’s this hat business?” Alverato’s voice was still loud. “Sit down, Pendleton, and let’s get down to brass tacks.”
Benny had stopped by the window, waiting for Pendleton to sit down again. But he didn’t. When Pendleton waved, Benny didn’t see it. He wasn’t thinking about hats. He was thinking about the deal that was breaking up, Old Man Ager’s empire halfway on the rocks because that dried-up bastard-
“Look, Mr. Pendleton.” Benny said it fast. “This thing you’re talking about. I got an idea-” and then he saw Pendleton’s face.
There was no point in going on. Benny looked around the room, at Alverato, and at Pendleton’s back by the door. Then he followed his boss to the car and drove him back to Sutton Place.
Chapter Three
Pendleton sat behind the glass in the dark and Benny drove back to New York without a word, as a chauffeur should. But he wasn’t through yet. Seven years of saying, “Yes, sir,” seven years of pushing up the hill-that wasn’t going to end with a little slap on the wrist and a “Thank you, sir, for the uniform.” Benny worked his hands on the wheel. He wasn’t through yet; nor was Pendleton.
He let him out at the front of the apartment, parked the car in the basement garage, and took the service elevator to the top floor.
“In the library,” said the butler, and Benny walked into the long room where Pendleton was waiting behind the desk. No part of him moved. When he opened his mouth to speak he looked almost like a puppet.
“Tapkow,” said the voice.
Benny waited.
“You were much impressed with my former associate, Tapkow… Well? Answer me.”
“You didn’t ask anything.”
Pendleton twitched his shoulder. He put one white hand on the edge of the desk and began to stroke the smooth wood with the movement of a pendulum. “You seem to favor the point of view that a loud voice denotes authority. Have you ever heard me shout, Tapkow?”