Brian Garfield - Target Manhattan

So they decided to steal the money.

It wasn’t an out-and-out decision, Mr. Skinner. They dreamed aloud. To me that was all it was, until after it actually happened. I had no idea they would actually do it.

Weren’t you aware of the reconversion work your brother was doing on that old bomber? The work must have taken them months, if it was only the two of them.

You can believe this or not, as you please, Mr. Skinner, but not only was I completely unaware of it-my husband was equally unaware of it. Harold rebuilt that bomber completely by himself, with his own two hands. It was his secret until the very end.

Are you sure your husband didn’t know about it? Couldn ‘t he have been keeping it from you?

I’m quite sure. My husband never kept things from me.

I see. Then in fact Mr. Ryterband wasn’t let in on the plan until the last minute?

We were all let in on the plan very early, Mr. Skinner. But it wasn’t a plan then, don’t you see? It was a dream. A fantasy. It was as if they were composing the scenario for a movie. We played at it as if it were a game. “Wouldn’t it be fitting if we could get the money from the businessmen? They owe it to us.” It was that sort of thing, do you see?

Like children hatching diabolical plots against grownups whom they don’t like. The sort of plots that are worked out in great detail, but which everyone knows will never be acted upon.

Yes. You do understand. I knew you would. Don’t you see, children’s fantasies are like that-they can afford to be cruel because it’s all only imaginary. I know I for one indulged avidly in the fantasy. We would sit around gleefully imagining the consternation of those fat men in New York, pouring their perspiration out while a bomber circled overhead threatening to destroy them at any moment, and powerless to do anything about it at all! It sounds such a terrible confession to make, but can you believe we all sat around and laughed, just thinking about the expressions on their faces?

Yes, I can see that. It was a game of make-believe.

Oh, my, exactly, yes! You do see-you really do.

Yes, ma’am. I think so. Now, how did this scheme take shape, do you recall? I mean, how did the details develop in your minds?

I’m afraid it’s rather confused in my memory. You don’t hatch a make-believe fantasy full-blown. It grows, rather like a pearl-layer by layer. Detail by detail.

There must have been a kernel. An idea that triggered it.

Well, it must have been the idea-Harold’s idea-that there ought to be a way to get our money by using our own old airplanes. The very airplanes the businessmen had sneered at, as obsolete and useless. It was the attraction of that irony, I think.

And perhaps the idea of proving that a thirty-year-old Flying Fortress wasn’t quite as “useless” as the world thought?

Yes. That’s it.

I think I have a general picture of the origins of the scheme, Mrs. Ryterband. I wonder if we could shift our discussion to some concrete details. There are questions to which we still don’t have answers, and maybe you can help us there.

I’ll be happy to try.

Thank you. One thing that’s troubled us is the bombs your brother had in the airplane. They were real bombs, of course. But the question is, where did he get them?

He bought them. From the Air Force.

Openly?

My, yes. At one of the surplus auctions. Several years ago, actually. Of course he didn’t buy them originally to use them as bombs.

I beg your pardon. What else could they be used for?

Why, scrap metal of course. The Air Force certainly isn’t about to sell real bombs to civilians.

I’m sorry. I’m confused.

The bombs were five-hundred-pound bomb casings, Mr. Skinner. The explosives had been removed, of course. They were simply empty casings. The Air Force sold them for scrap metal. Harold and Charles were always buying scrap metal, by the ton. Those old bomb casings were a good deal less expensive than new steel from a factory.

I’m beginning to clear it up in my mind, Mrs. Ryterband, but I still don’t understand how he obtained the explosives that he put in the bomb casings. I assume that’s what he did?

For anyone who works in industry explosives aren’t that difficult to obtain, Mr. Skinner. I have no idea exactly where or when Harold bought the explosives he packed into these particular bombs. But it should be possible for you to find out. I’m sure he bought it on the open market somewhere and made up a story about demolishing buildings or blasting out a new runway. He was known in the industry. No one would think twice about selling explosives to Harold. Now, as for the detonating devices and the other mechanical parts of the bombs, I’m sure he built those himself, either from the original specifications or from designs of his own. Such work would have been child’s play to Harold.

Yes, I’ve come to understand that much. Now there’s one further question I’d like to put to you. We know, of course, that they must have worked out a highly ingenious escape plan. I think it’s obvious, however, that we still don’t know exactly what that plan consisted of. I’m hoping that this part of the plan was discussed in your presence, as part of the make-believe you all participated in. Was it?

Well, of course. That was crucial to the game, wasn’t it? I mean, there was no point making a plan to steal all that money if you couldn’t get away with it afterward.

Yes, ma’am. Could you tell me the details of that plan?

You don’t have to lean forward so intensely, Mr. Skinner. I never mutter. Do you find it hard to hear me?

Not at all.

That’s better. Now you just sit back in that comfortable chair and I’ll tell you about the escape plan. It really was quite a marvelous scheme. We all contributed to it. I was very happy that my own ideas fitted in so well.

Which ideas were those?

Well, the idea of the window, of course, and the boat.

Perhaps you’d better describe it from the beginning.

Well, now. Let me think. The first problem was to pick a day that would give us the best weather for it.

Partial clouds?

That and the probability of low mist over Long Island Sound. In any case we decided that of course we’d have to wait for a day when those conditions applied.

Isn’t it the case, however, that your husband made an appointment with Mr. Maitland, the banker, two days beforehand?

My husband didn’t make that appointment, Mr. Skinner.

Then who did?

My brother, I’m sure. I don’t know who else could have. But Charles didn’t even know about the scheme until the very morning they put it into effect.

How can you be sure of that?

Because I slept in the same room with Charles that night. In the same bed. If he’d known they were actually going to do this thing that day, don’t you think I’d have known it? Don’t you think at least he’d have been nervous?

He wasn’t nervous at all?

We’d all been a little nervous for months. We were upset by our-our plight, there’s no other word for it, really. But Charles was no more upset or nervous that night than at any other time in the preceding several months. We both slept very well, thank you. In the morning-about half past six-the phone rang, and it was Harold calling from the factory. He wanted to talk to Charles. I put Charles on the line, and I got off. Charles talked to Harold briefly and then told me he had to go out-Harold wanted to see him over at the plant. Charles left the house at about a quarter to seven, and that was the last time I saw him.

Did he seem particularly agitated when he went out?

No. I’m sure Harold didn’t spring it on him until he arrived at the factory. You see, Harold would have done it that way. He’d have known that Charles wouldn’t have gone along with it if he’d had time to think it over. He must have presented it to Charles as a fait accompli. Told him, “You have an appointment at ten o’clock with the banker, Maitland. You’ll have to get right in the car and go.”