Ted Allbeury - The Twentieth Day of January

Nolan dressed immediately and phoned Gary Baker.

“You’d better come down here, Pete. Quickly.”

“What’s going on?”

“I can’t discuss it right now. Just get here.”

When Nolan got to the DA’s office there was a tall thin man, elegantly dressed, as if the hour were normal instead of four am. Baker made a limp gesture towards the man.

“Peter, this is Hank Henney—he’s chief of police. He’s got bad news, I’m afraid.”

Henney nodded to a table and he and Baker sat on one side, leaving Nolan alone on the other. Henney looked calm but grim.

“Mr. Nolan, I understand from Gary that you work for a government department. He refused to tell me which department. You’d better identify yourself.”

“Can you tell me what it’s about, chief ?”

Henney looked hard at Nolan. “Mr. Nolan, there’s something going on in this city that I don’t know about. I’ve got the feeling you’re part of it, and unless you identify yourself to my satisfaction I’m gonna order my men to arrest you while we do some checking.”

Nolan reached in his inside pocket and laid his card on the table. Henney looked at it and handed it back. He didn’t look any the less serious.

“Mr. Nolan, you visited last night with a Mr. Siwecki and his wife. What time did you leave them?”

“About 9.30. I was in this office at about ten o’clock.”

“Why did you visit Siwecki?”

“To collect evidence.”

“Concerning what?”

“The strike at the Haig plant some years back.”

“Did you threaten him?”

“I indicated that he could be indicted on various offences but that his co-operation would be borne in mind.”

“How did he react to that?”

“He agreed eventually to co-operate and I came back here to arrange for Mr. Baker to take a signed statement.”

“Where did you go when you left here?”

“Back to my temporary base just outside the city.”

“Where? What’s the address?”

“At the moment that’s classified information.”

Henney leaned forward across the table.

“Did you resort to physical violence during your interrogation of Siwecki?”

“No.”

“Do you carry a gun?”

“Yes. And I have a licence to carry.”

“Where is it?”

“Back at the house.”

“What make of weapon is it?”

“A .357 Snub Magnum.”

“I’d like that to be brought in, Mr. Nolan.”

“You’d better tell me what it’s all about, sir.”

“Mr. Siwecki is dead. He was shot three times in the neck and head. Mrs. Siwecki is dead, too. She had been shot twice and she died on the way to the hospital. The police doctor assesses the time of death as being during the time you were at the house.”

Henney sat looking at Nolan silently and intently. Then he stood up.

“I want you to come with me.”

“To police headquarters?”

“No. You’re not being charged with anything at this stage. Let’s get along. Baker, you’d better come too, as you seem to be involved with Mr. Nolan.”

The police driver turned into the parking area of an apartment block and they were walking through the entrance before Nolan recognized where he was.

The three of them stood in silence as they waited for the elevator. It stopped at the 17th floor, and outside the elevator a police officer stopped them. Then recognizing the chief, he pulled aside a chair and let them through. They went into the next apartment on the right. A photographer was taking photographs as they walked in and he moved his gear when he saw the chief of police.

Maria Angelo lay on her back on the floor, one leg still caught in the bedcover. She was naked and dead, and there were burn marks shaped like the sole of an iron on her breasts, her flat belly, and her thighs. There was a pool of blood from the hole in her throat and a clammy mess above her left ear. A small travel-iron lay on the carpet and the smell of burnt flesh still sickened the air. There was a bunch of red roses still in their paper wrapping on the glass coffee table.

Henney watched Nolan’s face as he looked at the dead girl.

“You also talked with Miss Angelo yesterday evening?”

Nolan turned slowly to look at Henney’s grim face.

“We’d better talk together, Mr. Henney.”

“There’s an empty apartment at the end of the corridor. We can use that.”

When they were seated Nolan’s hands clenched on the arms of his chair and his voice was harsh and dry as he spoke.

“Chief. Three killings in one evening is problem enough for any police force, but these particular killings mean that Washington have to be informed immediately and I should appreciate your co-operation on this. After I’ve spoken to them I’ll answer any questions you care to put to me.”

“I’ll want Baker and myself to hear the conversation. Both ends.”

“That’s OK.”

It had taken fifteen minutes to trace Harper, who had obviously been roused from sleep.

“Harper. What is it, Nolan?”

“Sir. I’m speaking on an open line, and the chief of police in Hartford and an official from the DA’s office are listening to the conversation.”

“Is that necessary?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“OK. Go ahead.”

“I had a long talk with a Miss Maria Angelo who works in the DA’s office here. She gave me information regarding the strike at the Haig plant here some years back. Her information led me to a Mr. Siwecki, the union official concerned at the time of the strike. I interviewed him and he gave me information that provides strong evidence concerning my major investigation.”

“Conclusive?”

“Pretty well.”

“Go on.”

“I left Siwecki at his home and came back to the DA’s office and requested Mr. Gary Baker of that office to go immediately to Siwecki’s home to take the statement and witness the signature.”

“That sounds fine.”

“Sir, Mr. and Mrs. Siwecki and Miss Angelo have all been murdered and the chief of police here, Mr. Henney, is concerned that I may be involved.”

“Put him on.”

“He’s on the extension.”

“Mr. Henney?”

“Who is that?”

“Mr. Henney, my name is Morton Harper, Director CIA. I suggest you go back to your office and ask your operator for CIA Headquarters, Langley. Ask for me, and then you will be satisfied about my identity. Meantime I should appreciate your co-operation with Mr. Nolan who is one of our senior officials.”

“I’ll do that, Mr. Harper.”

It was two hours before Harper got back to Henney and during that time reports had come in of Siwecki’s neighbours seeing a car with New York plates parked in the driveway of a vacant house almost opposite the Siwecki house. It had been driven off at about 10.15, by a driver with two passengers.

Two unidentified men had been seen by residents and security men at Maria Angelo’s apartment block just before eleven o’clock. One was wearing a utilities uniform thought to be the telephone company, and one had talked to a boy delivering flowers. He had walked to the elevator and appeared to accompany the boy. They had been described as big built, dark with sallow complexions. They could be Italian or Spanish.

The Hartford police were to proceed with their investigations and a two-man team from Langley was flying down to assist them. Nolan was instructed to fly back to New York immediately.

Nolan slept in the Cessna on its way to LaGuardia, and half an hour after he had landed the CIA driver turned off Lexington and dropped him at the Barclay. There was a message at the desk; he was to go to a private suite.

Harper was waiting for him, a drink in his hand as he waved him towards a chair.

“I think we have to look at where we’re going, Nolan. It’s time I put my head on someone’s shoulder and cried.”