The Day of the Guns (12 page)

“Until now,” I added.

“It’s hard to picture,” he said. “I made a point to see Edith Caine.”

“So did I. All over?”

Corbinet gave me a quizzical look.

I said, “Remember Carmen Bellotica? She was forty-two when they did the plastic on her so she could go back into Norway posing as her own sister who was fifteen years younger and pinpointed those Nazi installations for us. I saw her before she died and she looked like a kid. Surgery makes great strides during a war or in time of necessity.”

“I remember her. And you think Edith Caine is Rondine Lund.”

“I know it, Colonel.”

“You’ll need more than conjecture to swing it, Tiger.”

“Don’t worry. When I pull it off it will be all the way. I won’t get myself messed up this time.” Before he could say what he was thinking I added, “And I realize the importance of the job. I won’t let personalities interfere. Digging out the security leak comes first, so don’t lecture me. I’m over my first mad and back at work. I’m under orders myself, so from now on it’s cut and dried ... but I’m taking a lot of real, personal pleasure in being on this one.”

“Very good.” He stopped, waited for the light to change and waved me across the street. “Incidentally, I heard about events on the street last night.”

“Your cross-intelligence section is pretty good.”

“No ... I made the inquiry myself. That rub-out attempt was too close to Edith Caine’s residence to be coincidental.” A smile flirted with his usually tight mouth. “You have Mr. Watford and Hal Randolph in a sweat.”

“That the big guy ... the one with Watford?”

“Correct.”

“Isn’t he second in command of the Washington section of I.A.T.S.?”

Again, Corbinet smiled. “Nobody ... nobody at all, is supposed to know that.”

“Balls,” I said. “You contact him?”

Charlie nodded. “This morning. He didn’t appreciate it.” “Anything new?”

“Possibly one thing you might be interested in.”

“Like what?”

“The staffs of all the agencies concerted their efforts on this one. When they have to they can dig hard and fast and getting to the contract killers who were hired wasn’t an easy thing. But as always, there’s an intimation at least, if not definite proof, of who was behind the attempted kill. One person in Chicago managed to come across with a small bit of information that has a peculiar tone to it in view of what we’ve just discussed.”

“So?”

“It is suspected that the arrangement for those hoods was made by a woman. No names ... no proof, but unsupported suspicion.”

“But not unfounded?”

“No, not unfounded.”

“We’re getting there, Colonel.”

“Your death is worth money to someone.”

I put my hand on his arm. “Wait a minute.” I looked around, spotted a small delicatessen with tables along one side and motioned for him to follow me. We went inside, sat down and ordered coffee and Danish. When it came I took the money I had picked from the dead guy’s wallet, thumbed out the brand-new thousand-dollar bill and handed it to Corbinet.

“What’s this?”

“One of the hoods I killed had this on him with some small change. He wasn’t the thousand-dollar type at all. Bills of this size generally have their serial numbers recorded and maybe you can trace it back.”

He folded the bill slowly and put it in his inside pocket. “Nobody would make a mistake like that. Not in this business.”

I shrugged. “Then get my grand back to me. I’ll keep it as payment for getting shot at.”

“Of course, if it’s evidence, that’s the end of it.”

“The fortunes of the game, Colonel. I once found a million and a half in U.S. currency I had to turn in. I thought about it fifteen minutes before I figured it would only buy trouble. Remember?”

He smiled gently. “Quite well. You were younger then.”

“I’ll call you later then.”

From across the table he gave me a direct stare, trying to read my face. “Vidor Churis?”

“Him.”

“Every man available is on that pursuit.”

“We have methods the agencies haven’t.”

“Yes, I know. Good hunting. I hope you’re in shape.”

“My kill record is pretty impressive. I’m still around.”

“So I see. Shall we go?”

 

I found Wally Gibbons with a bunch of the guys from The News over in P. J. Moriarty’s eating corned beef and cabbage. Brian gave me a nod from behind the bar, sent a beer over to the table for me and we shook hands all around. For a change the others were on assignments and couldn’t stick around, so after fifteen minutes of small talk they paid up the tab, went back to work and left Wally and me alone.

Generally he was a laughing-boy type, always ready with a gag, but now he had no smile ready. There was a funny cut to his eyes and he kept looking at me from behind a cup of Irish coffee, then he said, “The more I dig the more I think about you, Tiger.”

“Now what.”

“Last night?”

“Good action. You want the story?”

“Buddy, I have it, but I won’t run it until you come across all the way. You have something big going.”

“Your pipelines are pretty tight. That’s a closed circuit.”

“To some, maybe. Not to me. I’m the thinking type. You want to talk about it?”

“Not yet. I haven’t got all the answers ready. It would be like a joke without a punch line.”

“You’re a bastard.”

“So I’ve been told. Many times.”

He finished his coffee and reached for a cigarette. “I can give you something, friend.”

“Go, man.”

“John Fredericks Talbot. You know who he is?”

I shrugged, saying nothing.

“You recall the ASO deal in Poland?”

“I was there.”

Wally started to pull on the butt and stopped. “Am I telling you something new?”

“Maybe.” I took the top off the beer. “When they blew the legation building I got Connors and White clear, but that was all I was assigned to. Why?”

“Because Talbot was the inside man who nailed the assassins. You ever know George Gifford?”

“INS man in Paris?”

“That’s the one. He was there at the time chasing some broad he had a big one for and she was running with Chevesky at the time. She got herself in a mess and George smuggled her out. Later she told him Talbot was on top of the business for six months posing as a Polish National and she got the lowdown on him from another broad he was sleeping with. Damn, the history of the world is made in a bedroom.”

“From Eve through Caesar to now,” I said.

“So while a member of British Intelligence, he was well planted and right there when the guns came out. He didn’t expect the play and tried to stop it but it was too late. He hit the two Reds who got to Seliga, but they wound up dead.”

“So why tell me?”

“Because one of the killers died slowly under Talbot’s hands. He talked. He partially identified somebody implicated in the plot and it was a broad. That’s where it ended. But now he’s here, the guy is one of their top men. You bring Edith Caine into the picture and from what I know, what little you tell me and what I find out, I’m beginning to get some cold shivers. I don’t like the action at all, Tiger.”

“You just don’t want to see a beautiful doll take a fall,” I said.

“No, it’s not that. The whole damn world is in a mess. One wrong move and somebody pushes the red button and you know what happens. One screwball with his finger on a switch triggers it and everything goes out of existence. The trouble is, you can be the catalyst and it scares me. I got that crazy feeling you can be the one.”

“Never me, Wally. I think too much of my hide.”

“Like hell you do. You got just one thing in your mind.”

“Maybe,” I said slowly. “I died a long time ago.”

“Well
l
didn’t.” He dragged on the cigarette and stuffed the butt out in the ash tray. “Incidentally, I got the b.g. on Gretchen Lark. It wasn’t too hard to do. I don’t know why the hell I do your leg work for you.”

“Because you want a story after the shooting’s over, that’s why.”

“Okay, you’re right. I’m chicken. You know her well?”

“We’ve met.”

Wally nodded and fiddled with his coffee cup. “She’s the intellectual type. Did you know she’s gaining recognition as a painter?”

“I heard.”

“Very scholastic. After high school she went into nurse’s training, spent three years at the Center, then went back for her master’s, then picked up two years’ legal training at Shute College. She’d written four recognized papers on U.N. affairs before she went into her job.”

“Good for her.”

“She has a Ph.D. too.”

“They’re better smart.”

“Better sexy too. I know two guys who laid her and they said it was great.”

“How about that,” I said.

“Oh, you slob. You bedded her down too, didn’t you?”

“We were on top of the sheets. It wasn’t exactly bedding.”

“Some guys have all the luck.”

“What else about her?”

Wally made a noncommittal gesture with his hands and said, “Nothing. Just general background you asked for. You want sex references?”

“The bell with that.”

“Otherwise she seems to be a popular type, all ends tied, good, respectable American family and all that jazz. I scrounged the original clearance on her if you want to see it.”

“No sweat.”

“Okay, now for another piece. Burton Selwick.”

“Oh?”

“The guy is sick. The office in London says he’s about to be replaced. He’s been hurting for the last year and they’re really concerned about his health. He’s had another ulcer attack but won’t leave the job and his wife is raising hell so they’re getting Smithwick to replace him. It’s fairly common knowledge so I’m not talking out of turn. The only trouble is ... he’s a thinker and they’ll face a heck of a loss when he goes. Selwick has been responsible for the tight relations between Britain and us for the last few years and whoever replaces him had better be good.”

“And you’re supposed to be a Broadway columnist,” I said.

“Come off it, Tiger. In my own way I’m a thinker too. I wasn’t in the code-and-cipher set like you were, but I had a personal interest in that goddamn war, too. I slogged behind tanks and got the crabs with the best of them. Maybe the only medal I got was the Victory Medal, but that was all I wanted. The ones you killed had names. The ones I knocked off were just uniforms. But I like it peaceful now.”

“You haven’t got it yet, buddy.”

“It’ll come. Now where do we go from here?”

I pushed the glass away and got up. It was starting to get late. “I’ll give you a buzz when it happens. Stay on the ball.”

“You got something working?”

“I got something working,” I repeated.

“My story, remember?”

“Natch.”

The upheaval in the United Nations was already well under way when I got there. One of the nations from the Soviet bloc had entered its proposal on the subject under discussion and the United States delegate had countered with our own and was backed up by the entire Western group with such unanimous approval that the Soviets were thrown into a partial panic. It was totally unexpected and both proposals of such divergent nature, and the Western one so evidently the proper approach that the Soviets were passing notes and making hurried consultations and from some of the black scowls showing I knew they were wondering what went wrong with their inside track.

Burton Selwick was on his feet acknowledging Britain’s acceptance of the United States’ proposition, his voice thundering, yet persuasive. Two Russian delegates were trying to pull their usual stunts of attempting to disrupt the proceedings but were being ordered to quiet down. Some sort of signal passed between them simultaneously and, as one man, a dozen of them got up and began to file out of the room.

There was an immediate rush of reporters to the phones to get the latest news to the press and it was plain that with this latest move the discussions were going to end in the general snafu that always accompanied the Soviet action.

Burton Selwick was still talking, but there was a hesitancy in his voice now. From where I stood I could see him plainly and there was a whiteness to his face and he pressed his hand against his side and held it there. Abruptly, he excused himself, sat down and leaned back in his seat tiredly. Two of his associates spoke to him, helped him to his feet and led him from the hall.

In the corridor they sat him down again and by the time I got there both Edith Caine and Gretchen Lark were at his side along with a dozen others. John Fredericks Talbot took up a position a little behind the group with four others and from their stance and demeanor I knew they were more than spectators or part of the party.

Someone asked for a doctor, but it was Gretchen Lark who told them it wasn’t necessary, she was a nurse and familiar with the situation. She sent someone into an office who returned with a glass of water and some tablets, had Selwick take them and when the color returned to his face, helped him up.

There was too much hubbub to hear what they were saying, but Selwick and Edith spoke a few words, he said something reassuring to her, patted her shoulder with a smile and let himself be led away to a room. At the door Talbot and one other took up a post there, telling the reporters that it was a minor gastric attack and that everything was all right and well under control.

Toomey came out of nowhere, nodded and said, “What do you think?”

“He’s been pretty sick.”

“Yes, I know, but he was to be a key speaker today.”

“What are you driving at?”

“He could have been out of action despite the Russian move. I’m wondering if that brought it on or not.”

“Poison?”