It had started to snow.
"Jesus, Mike, put on a hat at least."
Mike Sheldon didn't even react to this. He just stood on the roof of City Hall, his arms folded and his scarf moving slightly in the chill breeze as he smelled the clean, cold air.
It was after ten, so the curfew was in effect, and there was nothing moving that he could see except for the flakes of snow falling slowly to the ground. In two hours it would be midnight and the blackout would start. Sometimes, when he was up that late, he came up here to watch that as well. It was pretty impressive to see the whole city go dark in the space of a few minutes.
The Mansion House where the mayors usually lived had been bombed about six months before, and he had moved into a basement room here in City Hall while it was being repaired. But, during that time his wife, Gloria, had finally died of the cancer which had been taking her with agonizing slowness for two years. After that, he couldn't see any reason to move out of his basement room and back to Mansion House even when the repairs were completed. He was comfortable in his room, he had his jazz records, and his radio for baseball games in the summer. His daughter Micki was away at college. He supposed he'd move back when she came home that summer, but summer was a long time away.
"Chief, I brought your hat."
He turned around, suddenly aware that things had been happening. His assistant had called down to his secretary, Susan, and she had brought up his hat.
It was a lot of foolishness, of course, but people started acting strange when you were the boss. He'd long ago resigned himself to it. He took his hat and put it on, but his mood was ruined and he turned and climbed down the stairs to his office. Susan came down after him, blowing on her hands, and he watched her as she pulled off her wool hat and shook out her long, dark hair.
"Why are you still here?" he asked.
She shrugged. "Dennis thought you might want something."
Mike Sheldon shook his head. Dennis Moran, his assistant, was becoming almost too much. "Don't even take off your coat," he said wearily. "I'll get a cruiser to take you home. And from now on, don't stay late unless I ask you to."
She nodded, smiling, and unzipped her long coat so she could sit down. He pressed the intercom on his desk as she slipped off her shoes, wiping the snow from them. "Dennis?" he called, and then continued without giving the man a chance to speak. "Get a cruiser to take you and Susan home." He released the button as the other man tried to reply.
Susan glanced up and smiled from under her tousled hair. Nothing got by her, no subtlety or nuance, and he knew she saw Dennis Moran almost as clearly as he did. He leaned back against his desk and watched her put on her boots. He smiled as she pulled the white gym socks over her stockings. She'd worn slacks to the job interview, and she'd never worn pants around him again.
He wouldn't have said anything. He'd hired her for her abilities not her legs, but she'd obviously taken one look at him and figured out he was not a man who liked masculine women. She'd let her hair grow out since then, too.
In fact, the only other time he'd seen her in pants was when she'd gone to a baseball game with him the week after Gloria had died. He'd caught hell in the papers, of course. How could Hizzoner take his buxom young secretary to a baseball game less than a week after his wife's death? But it had been Susan's idea, and she'd been right. He was still mad at the press about the whole thing, though. The photographs of Susan yelling for their team, and of her buying him a hot dog, and so on. And all the articles and captions making veiled reference to her figure and how she looked in her tight jeans.
The intercom buzzed and Dennis said, "Cruiser's outside, chief."
"Coming!" Susan called, standing up and stamping her feet to make sure they were all the way into her insulated boots. She looked up and grinned, miming a kick. "The boots aren't for the snow, they're for you-know-who, when he gets frisky. Serves me right for staying this late. See you tomorrow, chief."
"See you," he said.
Susan knew that her boss would tell Dennis to leave her alone if she asked, but Mike Sheldon knew she preferred to handle it herself. With her looks, fighting off wolves must be second nature by now. He waved as she left, carrying her shoes to leave in her desk drawer.
Mike Sheldon knew as soon as he opened the door to
his bedroom that there would be a piece of paper on his bed. At the
top it would say, "Suggested Action Items for Tuesday."
He grinned. In his desk was a piece of paper titled, "Suggested Action Items for Retirement," and #1 on the list was something unspeakable he was going to do to his assistant. He'd given it to Susan up while Dennis Moran was in the office, so she'd had to try to keep a straight face while typing it.
He already knew what was going to be #1 on this list, though. It had been the same thing for the last three days. Find Ben Stein's daughter.
He shook his head. He had an entire city to run and he was supposed to worry about one AWOL college student. Carly Stein had decided to quit college in the middle of the fall semester, move to the big city and have some fun. What the hell was wrong with that?
He shrugged, sitting down and kicking off his shoes. He would do something about it first thing in the morning, at least make a visible effort. Benjamin Stein was one Mike Sheldon's biggest supporters (one of the "Dirty Dozen," as they were called in the papers). Ben Stein had delivered big bucks and big votes in both campaigns. When the more liberal of the city's two tabloids had seemed to be favoring his opponent the first time around, Ben Stein had quietly reminded him how much advertising his clothing stores bought in a year, both in the paper and on their affiliated local television and radio stations. And his arm-twisting had helped to defeat the term limits bill.
No, Mike Sheldon didn't mind doing a favor for Ben Stein. He just minded how stupid it was. So, the girl was having a fling. There was no indication she was in any kind of trouble. It wasn't like she'd been kidnapped or something.
He barked a laugh as he emptied his pockets on the little table next to his easy chair. He knew what Ben was really worried about. He was scared silly his daughter was getting some uncircumcised dick. That would be bad enough, but the word might get out and then he wouldn't be able to marry her off to that pimply kid from the family with all the discount electronics stores.
Old World morals and New World business both demanded that this girl stay at least reasonably pure. Sheldon shrugged, taking off his pants and draping them over the chair. He'd have a talk with the girl when they found her, and they wouldn't tell her father any more than he needed to know. That would be the best for everybody.
It was a basic misunderstanding of how you raise children, of course. If you put them in too small a box, they break out. It's part of growing up. You have to give them some space, or at least let them have the feeling of space. There wasn't much that Micki Sheldon did at college that her father didn't find out about, even though she was on the other side of the continent. But he didn't interfere, and he wouldn't unless she was in real danger. He'd almost acted when she'd dated that drug dealer, but she'd broken it off herself. She was a level-headed girl, she was just letting off steam, and she still had plenty of time to change her mind about law school.
Then, as he got into bed, he realized he hadn't read the rest of the "Action Items." He put his reading glasses back on and picked up the piece of paper.
He put the paper down on his bedside table and put
his glasses on top of it. He shut off the light.
He would allow the protest about the pirate radio station on Friday morning. Stop it, and that Prentice guy becomes a martyr because it looks like he's been telling the truth all along. Besides, it was going to snow all night and then the temperature was going to drop. He couldn't imagine that there'd be much of a turn-out.
He'd keep them away from the actual storefront where the station had been, though. The door was all busted open and the window smashed. If they looked at that, it would only get them more worked up. He'd move them around the corner or something.