Ransom Read Online Free Page B

him the same argument you’ve given me. Ask him where the money is coming from for more police, for more prisons - “
    “Do you really think people listen to that sort of argument? When they’re scared to walk down the street after dark, scared to open their front door for fear they’re going to be mugged, do you really think they’re going to listen to logical argument?”
    “It would have been worth a try - “
    “Jesus!” Michael gestured in exasperation. “Look, I believe in law and order - I believe in it so much, as a - a way of life, if you like, that I find it hard to accept it as an election issue. But how do I convince the ordinary guy in the street that I’m even more concerned than he is, because it’s my responsibility? He’s a Monday morning quarterback when it comes to politics, knows all the answers - but when the issues get right down to the street he lives on, he’s a knuckle-head, he knows nothing and he doesn’t want to know. He just expects miracles and he votes you out if you don’t produce them.”
    “You could have made some sort of gesture - “
    “A gesture at a miracle? I’d need the Holy Spirit for that one.” He looked out the window again. A bald-headed jogger in a track-suit went past on the path outside the mansion grounds, head bobbing up and down as if it had come loose on his neck; he had the despairing look of a man tempted to catch the first cab he saw back home, someone who saw no logic at all in what he was doing. “When we had the British Prime Minister to dinner here last year, I remember something he told me - if you wanted to stay in politics and enjoy it, always remain in Opposition. That way no one can ever blame you for anything, but you always get marks for trying.”

    “That may work in the House of Commons. But there’s no Opposition in the White House. Nor even in City Hall,” Sam added as an afterthought.
    “Don’t curl your lip. There are a lot of people who think City Hall is more than just a bus station. Tom Kirkbride is one.”
    “Tom Kirkbride has no ambition. Not real ambition.”
    Not like you, thought Michael. He heard the clatter of the Police Department helicopter as it went over the house and down to the wharf below. Once a week he rode downtown by helicopter, one week going down the East Side, the next down the West, like an old-time king surveying his domain: he sometimes wondered if the P.D. pilot had the same thought. He had been doing it every Monday for four years and he still got the same thrill: the tall buildings seeming to shuffle into ranks as he swept by them, the giant spiders’ webs of the suspension bridges glinting in the morning sun, the million mirrors of the windows reflecting the helicopter as it went by: when you stood off from it New York was still the most exciting city he had ever seen. From the helicopter you never saw the maggots that were already at work in the body that was not yet a corpse.
    “It’s time I was leaving.”
    “I’ll stay and have a little talk with Sylvia. We haven’t seen much of each other this past month.”
    “You can drive me down to my dentist,” said Sylvia. “We can talk in your car.”
    “How will you get to St Mary’s?” Michael asked; he was forever worried for her, though he knew in his heart she was stronger than he was. “I don’t want you riding around in some crummy cab, with the hackie recognizing you and telling you what’s wrong with me.”
    “Lester can pick me up at ten-thirty.” She kissed him, loving him but still wondering why lately she had begun to lose patience with him. “Don’t worry, darling. I shan’t expose myself to any strangers.”
    “Sometimes I wonder if it’s all worth it,” he said, and

    his father and his wife glanced sharply at him. “There’s some safety in anonymity.”
    “It’s a little late for that,” said Sam Forte.
    “Yes,” said Michael. “You saw to that.”
    Abel Simmons, cruising slowly down Second Avenue like a