Alongside Night(22)
77
“It saved my life yesterday. Twice.”
“Did you shoot anybody?”
“No. I missed.”
“Accidentally or on purpose?”
Phillip never received an answer to the question for at that moment his uncle walked into the apartment.
Morris Gross was a thin, Semitic-looking man in his early seventies with sparse white hair and wire-rimmed spectacles. Still standing in the entrance alcove, he removed an overcoat, scarf, and a Russian fur hat. Elliot started wondering how he could explain his gun when Phillip, noticing his friend’s expression, leaned over, whispering, “Easy, you’re among friends.”
“Hello, hello,” said Mr. Gross as he entered the living room. He spoke with a Yiddish accent.
Elliot stood up along with Phillip. “Uncle Morris,” Phillip said, “you remember Elliot Vreeland.”
“Yes, of course.” Mr. Gross approached Elliot, and they shook hands. “I’m deeply sorry to hear of your father’s passing. He was a man of rare courage.”
Elliot felt mixed emotions—embarrassment about the cover story, worried hope that his father’s death was only a cover story. “Uh, thank you, Mr. Gross.” Elliot glanced over to Phillip for guidance; his friend nodded reassurance. “I’d like to explain about the gun.”
“No need,” said Mr. Gross. “I’ve had to carry them on occasion myself. I manufacture jewelry, you know.”
“You’re home early,” Phillip said. “Your stomach acting up again?”
Mr. Gross nodded. “Gold went up another 31 percent today. I can’t stockpile it fast enough. I left Nikki to close the office.”
He turned to Elliot. “Will you join us for dinner tonight? Or do you have family responsibilities?”
“Of course you will,” said Phillip, taking Elliot off the spot.
“We won’t take no for an answer, Ell.”
78
Alongside Night
“Thank you,” said Elliot. “But do you have someplace where I can hang my holster, first?”
A few minutes later, the boys were alone in Phillip’s bedroom, Elliot settled into a leather recliner, Phillip prone on his bed. Over the next hour Elliot gave a chronological and fairly complete account of the events leading up to his current dilemma. Phillip listened attentively, without interrupting. When finished, Elliot asked his friend whether he would help. “Of course,” Phillip said simply. “What do you want me to do?”
“To be honest, I don’t know. I suppose I should get a lawyer, eh?”
“I’m not a legal expert, Ell. I don’t know, either.”
“Well, the two of us can’t go up against the entire U.S. government single-handedly, can we?”
Phillip barely cracked a smile. “I don’t think so.”
“Then what do you think I should do?”
“You’re asking my advice?”
Elliot cocked a brow. “You’re getting at something.”
Phillip remained silent.
“Yes, I’m asking your advice.”
“Then,” said Phillip, “I think you should repeat your story for my uncle and ask his advice.”
Elliot considered this for a long moment. “Phil, I don’t know your uncle. Do you really think he’d help me?”
“He might. You can ask.”
“But how will he take this? There are a lot of legal and political overtones he might not like.”
“I guarantee you a safe conduct out of here whether he likes them or not.”
“But does he know anything about this sort of business?”
Phillip smiled again. “I think so. When he was fourteen, he fought for the Irgun in the founding of Israel.”
Elliot shut up.
Phillip glanced over at the wall clock, then got up. “I’d bet- Alongside Night 79
ter start on dinner.”
“You’re cooking?”
“Why not? I’m quite a chef.”
Elliot grinned widely. “Can I watch?”
“Absolutely not.” Phillip switched his television wallscreen from disc playback to live reception and touched it on. “Rot your mind a bit,” he said, then left.
Elliot caught most of a drama called Presidential Healer, a series about a United States President who cured his subjects by laying on of hands, then Dr. Witch, a comedy about an African witch doctor who had attended medical school and was now practicing in Long Beach, California. After being chased out of the kitchen by Phillip, he turned to Hello, Joe—Whadd’ya Know? It concerned the adventures of an intellectual gorilla named Joe—the product of primate educational research—who was a philosophy professor and resident sage at Gazpacho College. This episode concerned the problems that arose when Joe found himself scheduled for both a cello recital and the finals of an international chess competition on the same night. There were no commercials. There were, however, a number of public-service announcements, leading into the six o’clock news.