Merry Vail listened to my account of the encounter with the Inter-Alia gang and then rolled his eyes toward heaven.
"Poor old Winnie!" he expostulated. "Why didn't you try something comparatively safe, like robbing a she bear of her whelps or yelling 'Hurray for Hitler' in Union Square? Harry Willamer is a vindictive guy and his aunt or his mother-in-law is related to Jesse Jones. At least that's what the Street believes."
"What can he do to me?" I asked. "I have him cold on a charge of blackmail."
"Like hell you do!" said Merry. "First thing he'll check with the F.B.I. to find out if there is a recording of your talk. And there isn't. So it's your word and Tammy's against that of four high-ranking government officials. You ask what they can do to you? You just call Phil Cone at your office and see if they haven't started doing it already."
The steward made the phone connection and in a few minutes Cone's languid voice was complaining over the wire.
"Say, Winnie, what the hell have you been up to?"
"Nothing, Phil. Why?" I asked.
"It's just that the word's been passed to lay off Tompkins, Wasson & Cone. The brokers don't want to handle our orders. You know Manny Oppenheimer of Auchincloss, Morton, Caton, Beauregard & Oppenheimer? You know how he used to lick your boots if you stood still long enough for him to kneel down and stick his tongue out? Well, Manny cut me. Yeah, that's right. Cut me! What's cooking? Even my best friends won't tell me whether it's B.O. or dishpan hands."
"Just keep on plugging, Phil," I urged. "They can't refuse to handle our orders if we insist. I'll put in some calls on this.... Yeah, I'm up at the Pond Club with my attorney ... I'll try to call you back. That guy Willamer is back of this because I wouldn't go along with his proposition."
"Oh-oh!" Phil observed dismally. "That's enough for me. Think I'd better join the Marines?"