CHAPTER VIII
A head-shrinker once explained to me that people confronted with a crisis act exactly like a J-walker about to be run down by a car. They do one of three things. Either they dodge back to the curb, or stand helpless, or turn on full steam and sprint ahead. Lennox was the third type. When the evidence in his gimmick book finally convinced him that he was next Sunday's victim, he refused to retreat or submit. He turned on full steam and sprinted toward disaster.
He returned to the show conference and forced himself to participate until it was over. He issued blanket invitations for the party at Rox Studios, left Grabinett's office and called Sergeant Fink from a phone booth. Fink was not at the precinct. Lennox said he would call again, went out and consulted the phone directory. There were a dozen Knotts in the Manhattan book. There were many more in Brooklyn, Queens and the Bronx. None of the names looked even faintly familiar. Lennox got back into the booth and called one at random. A man answered the phone.
"Is Mr. Knott there, please?"
"This is Knott. Who's calling?"
"Jordan Lennox."
"Who?"
"Jordan Lennox."
"What number are you calling?"
Lennox gave the number.