“I don’t know. But it’s hurting him. Sinclair’s no fool. He understands that Tomlinson’s offering him a path to make MHD a success. But he’s hanging back because Leeds doesn’t want him to support Tomlinson.”

Mulling over the possibilities for a moment, Jake asked, “Do you think you could find out?”

Glynis didn’t answer for several heartbeats. At last she said softly, “Jake, I work for the man.”

“But his attitude is hurting Tim, isn’t it?”

“And Bob Rogers. Everyone on the program.”

“So, if we could find out why Sinclair’s doing this, if we could get him to swing to Tomlinson’s campaign, we could help him and Tim and Bob and all the others.”

“I suppose so,” she said slowly.

“It would be good for everybody,” Jake coaxed. “It would even be good for Sinclair, if we could get him out from under Leeds’s control.”

“I suppose so,” Glynis repeated, more softly.

Monster

MONSTER

His real name was Benito Falciglia, christened such at the insistence of his granduncle, who stood as his godfather at the infant Benito’s baptism. Before, during, and after World War Two, Granduncle Umberto had admired Benito Mussolini—from the safe distance of America.

Even in grammar school Benito hated being called Benny. Fortunately he was of such a large size that the other kids started calling him Frankenstein’s Monster. He amiably took to the nickname, which was soon shortened to Monster. He was so big and could look so menacing when he wanted to that Monster seldom had to resort to violence. Just a scowl and a growl and the other boys forked over their lunch money or whatever else Monster demanded of them.

By the time he became the workhorse lineman for the high school football team, playing both offense and defense, Monster was recruited by the neighborhood gang. He was really a gentle soul beneath all that muscle, but he took orders from the wiseguys and broke a few legs here and there.

Jake had known him since kindergarten. In a perverse way he liked Monster. He had always helped the big guy with his homework. Not that Monster was slow or stupid; he simply found it much easier to get one of the bright boys to do his school assignments, rather than take the trouble to do them himself. Most of the teachers knew this, but did nothing about it—especially in high school, where the faculty wanted nothing more than to get this gang enforcer out their doors for good. The football coach felt otherwise, yet Monster graduated with the rest of his class.

In return for Jake’s help with the schoolwork, Monster protected Jake from the roughnecks and other gang members. “Jake’s okay,” he would tell them. “Leave him alone.” And they did. Most of the time.