His eyebrows were threatening a back somersault.
"Don't know," he said. "I was looking over the side; then turned
around and here it was! You have any ideas?"
Which is when I spotted Al Benson.
I settled for shoving Benson toward the elevator, being careful since
he had a box under each arm. We made the elevator and went down and it
stopped on the 120th floor and the operator said, "Change here for all
lower floors and the street--"
As we waited on the 120th for the down elevator, the P. A. system
barked:
"Attention all building occupants. By order of the Mayor no one will
be permitted to leave the building until further notice. Please remain
where you are. We will try not to inconvenience you for any great
time."
There was no one close to us.
"Al," I said, "look, stinker, you've had your fun but this is it. I
don't know what you've got in those boxes but you've got to turn them
over--and yourself--to the next copper who shows. This is a civil
matter, strictly local, and not C. I."
Benson grinned. "Got to make a delivery first, Monk. Look, there's a
potray over there. Can I use it?"
His grin was infectious. "So what are you going to send where?" I
asked as sternly as I could.
"The Mayor's personal files," he said. "I managed to carry them out of
City Hall--once they'd been suitably wrapped, of course! I'm sending
them to the Senate Investigation Committee. Don't worry, Monk, His
Honor won't be President this or any year!"