“With the UAES in the studios we can advance the cause better than the entire Red Guard. Movies are the new opiate of the people. They’ll believe anything we can get on the screen.”‘ Gentlemen, Claire is Claire Katherine De Haven, a consort of Hollywood 10 traitors and a known member of no fewer than fourteen organizations that have been classified as Communist Fronts by the California State Attorney General’s Office. Is that not impressive?”
Mal raised his hand. Edmund J. Satterlee said, “Yes, Lieutenant Considine? A question?”
“No, a statement. Morris Jahelka has two convictions for felony statch rape. Your patriotic citizen screws twelve-year-old girls.”
Ellis Loew said, “Goddamnit, Malcolm.”
Satterlee tried a smile, faltered at it and stuck his hands in his pockets. “I see. Anything else on Mr. Jahelka?”
“Yes. He also likes little boys, but he’s never been caught at it.”
Dudley Smith laughed. “Politics makes for strange bedfellows, which doesn’t negate the fact that in this case Mr. Jahelka is on the side of the angels. Besides, lad, we’ll be damn sure his jacket is sealed, and the goddamn Pinks probably won’t bring in lawyers for redirect questioning.”
Mal concentrated on keeping his voice calm. “Is that true, Ellis?”
Loew fanned away plumes of Doc Lesnick’s cigarette smoke. “Essentially, yes. We’re trying to get as many UAESers as possible to volunteer as witnesses, and hostile witnesses–subpoenaed ones–tend to try to assert their innocence by not retaining counsel. Also, the studios have a clause in their contract with UAES, stating that they can terminate the contract if certain areas of malfeasance can be proven against the contractee. Before the grand jury convenes–if our evidence is strong enough–I’m going to the studio heads to get UAES ousted on that clause–which should make the bastards hopping mad and rabid when they hit the witness stand. An angry witness is an ineffectual witness. You know that, Mal.”
Cohen and his Teamsters in; UAES out. Mal wondered if Mickey C. was a contributor to Loew’s six-figure slush fund– which should hit the half million mark by the time of the ’52 primaries. “You’re good, counselor.”
“So are you, _Captain_. Down to brass tacks, Ed. I’m due in court at noon.”
Satterlee handed Mal and Dudley mimeographed sheets. “My thoughts on the interrogation of subversives,” he said. “Guilt by association is a strong lever on these people–they’re all connected up–everyone on the far left knows everyone else to one degree or another. In with your depositions I’ve got lists of Commie front meetings cross-filed with donation lists, which are excellent levers to procure information and get Reds to inform on other Reds to save their own damn skin. The donations also mean bank records that can be subpoenaed as evidence. Proffering surveillance photos to potential witnesses is my personal favorite technique–being shown at a subversive meeting puts the fear of God into the most Godless Pinks, and they’ll inform on their own mother to stay out of jail. I may be able to get us some extremely damaging photos from a friend Side 28
Ellroy, James – Big Nowhere, The who works for Red Channels– some extremely good pictures of Sleepy Lagoon Defense Committee picnics. In fact, I’ve been told the photos are the Rembrandts of Federal surveillance–actual CP bigwigs and Hollywood stars along with our friends in UAES. Mr. Loew?”
Loew said, “Thank you, Ed,” and gave his standard one finger up, indicating everybody stand. Dudley Smith practically leaped to his feet; Mal stood and saw Doc Lesnick walking to the bathroom holding his chest. Awful wet coughs echoed from the hallway; he pictured Lesnick retching blood. Satterlee, Smith and Loew broke up their circle of handshaking; the Red Chaser went out the door with the DA kneading his shoulders.
Dudley Smith said, “Zealots are always tiresome. Ed’s good at what he does, but he doesn’t know when to quit performing. Five hundred dollars a lecture he gets. Capitalist exploitation of Communism, wouldn’t you say so, Captain?”
“I’m not a captain yet, Lieutenant.”
“Ha! And a grand wit you have, too, to go with your rank.”
Mal studied the Irishman, less scared than he was yesterday morning at the restaurant. “What’s in this for you? You’re a case man, you don’t want Jack Tierney’s job.”