Noel Hynd - The Sandler Inquiry

Sandler called on Hunsicker late one evening."

Adolph Zenger, apparently amused, toyed with the handle of his cane again. His eyes twinkled.

"Hunsicker got his hot bath that night, all right. They found him two mornings later, still sharing his bathwater with the heater. But, hell. He was up to no good, that damned Nazi. Civic improvement."

"What happened to Sandler?" Thomas Daniels asked.

"He was moved up to number one in New York. Then about two months later things got hot for several Axis agents in the northeast.

Several of them were recalled to Germany. Sandler went'home'with them, traveling first to Mexico, where a submarine picked him up.

Fine instruments, those submarines," he added parenthetically.

Then he concluded,

"Ultimately, Sandler drifted into German intelligence. Doing what, I don't know. He was a chemist, an engraver, a financier, and a pretty fair assassin. A man like that might have many uses..

Zenger hesitated, then actually stopped. His attention seemed to lag abruptly, his gaze drifting out the window to the ocean beyond.

"Funny thing about those submarines," he said. A slight pause, then,

"Do you know that this island was blockaded during the war?

Sometimes bathers could see smoke rising on the horizon. U.S. merchant boats torpedoed by Hitler's submarines."

The man's eyes were sad and distant.

"Fucking foreigners" Zenger grumbled.

"Do you know what you can see from these windows now? Fishing fleets!

Foreign fishing fleets, especially the Commie ones, catching everything that swims.

Imagine. They come in here and catch American fish and we don't do a damned thing" He thought about it.

"Ought to blow their fishing tubs right out of the water," he concluded.

"Send out our Coast Guard " "What about Victoria?" Thomas asked.

Zenger puffed his cheeks thoughtfully.

"She got along. Thanks to estate management by Zenger and Daniels."

The old man managed a sly grin.

"Naturally," said Thomas.

"The money was there "Interesting point " said Zenger quickly.

"The money wasn't there.

No one had ever suspected, but the Sandler family had been almost flat broke" Thomas frowned.

"How could they have been?"

"Taxes. They were land poor. Real-estate assessments were eating up the money as fast as Arthur Sandler could make it. After the war it was a different story. When he came home in 1946 he was loaded again.

He had millions. And it couldn't have been through his companies.

They'd stagnated" "The government?" asked Thomas.

"Maybe " said Zenger.

"But there's a darker possibility. Somehow he made a fortune during the war. The logical guess is that he continued to do it after the war." Zenger paused. The excitement was gone from his eyes.

"Whatever it was, I didn't know then and I don't want to know now."

Zenger looked at Thomas carefully, then added, "Your father knew. But he never told " Thomas rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He got to his feet, stretched, and walked to the window. He watched the water in the distance, as if in thought over how to phrase the next question.

"What about the man who was killed in 1954?" Thomas asked.

"Obviously it wasn't Sandler."

Zenger shook his head, almost sadly.

"No, of course not. Sometime after the war, early on in the fifties, some former members of Axis intelligence discovered that Sandler had sabotaged a major operation in Austria. There were a few old Nazis around North America and they attempted their retribution. Twice they came close enough to shoot at Sandler. Twice they missed. Sandler used his government contacts to gain time. He asked for a stand-in, someone to pose as him. He got one. And while the double remained in New York, Sandler traveled to Oslo, where he laundered his identity. A new name, a new life. Meanwhile he had a stroke of luck. His standin was murdered on the street one afternoon. And that seemed to satisfy Sandler's old acquaintances.

"The funny thing about it, though," concluded Zenger, 'was that there was a rumor that said Sandler had been executed by British agents before the Axis people could even get to him."

"What sense does that make?" asked Thomas.

"None," said Zenger.

"But Sandler had a new identity. He managed to vanish. He had his face entirely changed. Surgically."

Thomas let several seconds pass before asking his next question.

"Is Arthur Sandler alive today?"

Zenger looked at him coldly.

"Do you think that fire in your office set itself" he asked.

Thomas was mystified.

"How could a man in his late seventies be so dangerous?"

"I don't know. And I don't recommend finding out."

Thomas considered the blaze at his office. And he considered Leslie McAdam, struggling naked on a bed while her own father's hired killer attempted to murder her.

"I have a client," he said.

Zenger was livid.

"You also have sawdust between the ears if you take this woman seriously. First off, she is an impostor Second, Sandler's not the type of man you'll want to try pinning a paternity suit on even if she's not an imposter. Third, you'll never collect a cent of inheritance. This girl will never be able to prove she's a real daughter of Arthur Sandler. And you'll never be able to prove that a man legally dead twenty-two years ago is alive today. You'd have to successfully trace a man who's been gone for almost a quarter of a century."

"It could be done."

"Thomas! Come to your senses! Do you think Sandler's going to let you and some girl pick through his wealth and his interlocked companies? Do you think he'd risk having his new identity exposed?"

"How is he going to stop me?"

"Listen, boy," said Zenger, shaking his head in disgust, 'you don't want to live as long as I have, do you? I'll tell you how he's going to stop you " Zenger paused and caught his breath. He was very weak, but his anger-or fear-kept him going.

"All I know is what I learned from your father. In confidence, in the years after the war. But when Sandler got a new face he also got a job in our government. High. Very high. So high that only two people knew who he was. Both were murdered in their homes within a week. Both the same night. Both with a wire" Thomas Daniels practically bolted upright.

"A wire?"

"A wire'" said Zenger, elaborating in hopes of scaring Thomas off the case.

"It was a trick Sandler learned in the war. In a hollow heel of a shoe he carried two brass rings with a piano wire strung between them. A makeshift garrotte. Always with him and damned effective.

His favorite."

Thomas broke into a slow smile. Zenger cocked his head, looking at the younger man.

"What did I say?" Zenger asked.

"You just proved that my client is telling the truth'" Thomas said.

"I'm sorry. I'm taking her case."

Thomas returned to New York the same evening. When he unlocked and pushed open the door to his apartment the white envelope was immediately conspicuous. "I Thomas turned on the light, closed the door behind him, and tossed his travel case onto a table. He picked up the envelope and tore it open.

From it he pulled a yellow ticket. Second Promenade, the ticket said, Madison Square Garden. Hockey. Rangers vs. Boston Bruins. February eight. Sunday evening.

It made no immediate sense. Then he unfolded a small piece of plain white paper that accompanied the ticket. It read: Mr. Daniels, Please be there. And don't tell anyone.

Leslie McAdam Thomas searched for a further explanation and found none.

He crumpled the note and dropped it into a wastebasket. He walked to a bookcase that was so crowded that each shelf held two rows of books, front and back, mostly paperback. He withdrew a novel, third from the left on the middle shelf, inserted the ticket in the book, and returned the book to its place.