"Company union," Selby snorted.

"… and he claims twenty-two hundred of the thirty-eight hundred employed at Corrigan-McKinney are not on strike."

Owens laughed at that. "That's utterly fantastic. We have better than fifty percent of Corrigan-McKinney, and more joining us daily."

"Then strike peacefully," Ness said, "and wait for the company to come around."

"You want us to limit our pickets," Selby said, eyes burning. "Well, why don't you reduce your damn cops at the mill?"

"The number of officers on duty," Ness said, "will reflect the need, as the emergency requires."

"Why don't you present your grievances to the police," Burton suggested, gesturing gently, "instead of bucking them?"

Owens rolled his eyes, stood; he sighed theatrically. Made a show of looking about the Tapestry Room, from ornate ceiling to plushly carpeted floor. Then he smiled a smile that had nothing to do with happiness and said, "We're not getting anywhere. It's clear where you stand. But I would think that even from this ivory tower you could get a view of what's going on down in the real world-on your City Hall sidewalk, for instance." He nodded to the other two men, said, "Boys," and together they stalked out, Owens in the lead.

Burton and Ness sat in silence. The mayor sighed heavily, lit another Havana and said, "What about tonight?"

Ness looked at his watch. "When the eleven P.M. shift goes on, that's when all hell will break loose."

"What do you propose we do about it?"

"I don't know what you're going to do about it," Ness said, rising, "but I'm going to be there to catch it."

And he left the mayor there to ponder that, while he went to his office to get Albert Curry, Bob Chamberlin, and a gun.

CHAPTER 2

Detective Albert Curry, behind the wheel of the black Ford sedan with the special EN-1 license plate, didn't know what to make of the situation. Or, to be more exact, he didn't know what to make of the way his chief was behaving in this situation.