"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?" "You keep away from the recruiting-sergeant until we finish this operation," I told him. I turned to Vail. "Merry," I said, "this is one for you to handle. Brokers are trying to get out of handling our orders and tenth-raters like Manny Oppenheimer are high-hatting Phil Cone. You put in a call and find out what it's all about." Vail meditated. "Okay," he said at last. "You understand I'm acting as your attorney now?" "Sure," I agreed. He dialed a number. "I'd like to speak to the U.S. Attorney's office," he told the switch-board operator. "Yes, I'll wait.... Yes.... Oh, Ned?... This is Merry Vail. I've been retained by Winfred Tompkins. What I want to know is whether there are any charges against him.... Yeah, he's with me now.... No, he won't try to leave town. Suspicion of kidnapping?... No fooling?... That's cockeyed.... Listen, counselor, my client is innocent and stands ready to answer all charges--" He turned to me. "Hell, he hung up!" "What was that about kidnapping?" I asked. "Oh, something completely screw-ball," my attorney said. "It's only that his office has received an anonymous charge accusing you of having kidnapped Winnie Tompkins and masquerading in his place. Ned also told me you were in trouble with other governmental agencies and said he'd see me in court." "Damn!" I objected. "That sounds like Virginia Rutherford's idea of a snappy way to find out where I was before Easter. It doesn't make sense. If I kidnapped Tompkins, who am I supposed to be? I'm ready to take a finger-print test any time, even with these bandages on my right hand."