"Thank you so very much. Have a nice day."
* * * * *
"Merrill! It's the blackmailer again. Merrill, do you hear me?" Ken Boyers tried to get Senator Rickfield out from the centerfold of the newest Playboy. "Merrill!"
"Oh sorry, Ken. Just reading the articles. Now what is it?" Rickfield put the magazine down, slowly, for one last lustful gaze.
"Merrill, that Fullmaster fellow, the one who called about the
Credite Suisse arrangements . . ."
"Shut up! We don't talk about that in this office, you know that!" Rickfield admonished Ken.
"I know, but he doesn't," he said, pointing at the blinking light on the Senator's desk phone.
"I thought he went away. Nothing ever came of it, did it?"
"No, nothing, after we got General Young onto it," Boyers ex- plained. "I thought he took care of it, in his own way. The problem just disappeared like it was supposed to."
"Well," Rickfield said scornfully, "obviously it didn't. Give me the goddamned phone." He picked it up and pressed the lighted button. His senatorial dignity was absent as he spoke.