The Stochastic Man

37

But the proxy arrangement didn’t work out. We tried, and we failed. I diligently sat down with the newspapers and caught up with current developments — one week out of touch and I had lost track of half a dozen emerging patterns — and then I made the perilous frosty journey across town to the Lew Nichols Associates office, still a going concern though ticking but feebly, and ran off some projections on my machinery. I transmitted the results to Bob Lombroso by courier, not wanting to chance the telephone. What I gave him was no big deal, a couple of piffling suggestions about city labor policy. During the next few days I generated a few more equally tame ideas. Then Lombroso called and said, “You might as well stop. Mardikian shot us down.”

“What happened?”

“I’ve been feeding your stuff in, you know, a bit at a time. Then last night I had dinner with Haig and when we reached the dessert he suddenly asked me if you and I were keeping in touch.”

“And you told him the truth?”

“I tried not to tell him anything,” Lombroso said. “I was cagey, but I guess not cagey enough. Haig’s pretty sharp, you know. He saw right through me. He said, You’re getting this stuff from Lew, aren’t you? And I shrugged and he laughed and said, I know you are. It’s got his touch all over it. I didn’t admit anything. Haig just assumed — and his assumptions were correct. Very amiably he told me to cut it out, that I’d be jeopardizing my own position with Quinn if the mayor started to suspect what was going on.”

“Then Quinn doesn’t know yet?”

“Apparently not. And Mardikian isn’t planning to tip him off. But I can’t take any chances. If Quinn gets wise to me, I’m through. He goes into absolute paranoia whenever anyone mentions the name of Lew Nichols around him.”

“It’s that bad, is it?”

“It’s that bad.”

“So I’ve become the enemy now,” I said.

“I’m afraid you have. I’m sorry, Lew.”

“So am I,” I said, sighing.

“I won’t be calling you. If you need to get in touch with me, do it by way of my Wall Street office.”

“Okay. I don’t want to get you in trouble, Bob.”

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

“Okay.”

“If I could do anything for you—”

“Okay. Okay. Okay.”