Росс Томас - The Singapore Wink

“But eventually somebody, somewhere gets bribed.”

“For every corruptor there must be a corruptee and in the thirty-three years that I’ve spent in Washington I have seen money accepted greedily by some most respectable persons up to and including those of cabinet rank.”

“You do a nice lecture on morality,” I said, “but none of it explains how Angelo Sacchetti is blackmailing you, does it? And why tell me all the secrets? I’m no confession booth.”

Cole was silent for a moment. He closed his eyes briefly as if again debating with himself about how much more he could safely say. “I’m telling you the details, Mr. Cauthorne, because it is one way, perhaps the only way, that you will be impressed with the importance and gravity of what I’m going to ask you to do. I promise to be as brief as possible, but when I’m through I think you’ll realize the utter seriousness of the present situation. Only my complete frankness can convince you of that.”

“All right,” I said. “I’ll listen.”

“Good,” he said and paused again as if trying to remember the thread of his tale. “My former partner, the late Mr. Mecklin, realized quickly what had happened to him. He was not a fool, but his bitterness towards the administration caused him to plunge into the affairs of my sponsors in an almost gleeful manner. He became obsessed with their potential ability to exercise power, and power was all that really ever interested Mecklin other than gambling. So he advised them to diversify.”

“And they did?”

“Not at first. They were reluctant to take advice from one whom they considered to be an outsider. After Mecklin died I advised them to do the same thing, and they did. They went into the stock market, into banking, into manufacturing, and a number of other legitimate enterprises.”

Cole paused. I waited for him to continue. When he did, his voice was low and thoughtful, almost as if he were speaking to himself.

“During our years together, Mecklin grew quite fond of me and he once said, quite early in our association, in fact, ‘Protect your flanks, son. Records. Keep records of everything. Tangible evidence, Charlie, will be your only protection when they finally turn on you and, by God, they will.’”

“You followed his advice, I take it.”

“Yes, Mr. Cauthorne, I did. I have been counselor or, if you prefer the more romantic title, consigliere, to my sponsors for nearly thirty years. It has not always been a harmonious relationship, of course. There were some who opposed me.”

“What happened to them?”

Cole smiled and when he did, I could almost feel sorry for whomever he was thinking of. “Several of them were deported when the authorities suddenly discovered that they were not really born in the United States as they had claimed. Others were arrested, convicted, and sentenced to rather lengthy prison terms on the basis of new evidence that mysteriously came into the hands of the appropriate law enforcement agencies.”

“The evidence was carefully documented, of course.”

“Most carefully. It was always sufficient to provide an airtight case.”

“It’s nice to know that sometimes you cooperate with our national guardians,” I said.

“They have learned to live with me — and I with them. Actually, we both seek the same ultimate goal — a rational structure for illegal activities.”

“And this is where Angelo Sacchetti comes into the picture?”

“Indeed he does, Mr. Cauthorne. You may not know that Angelo and I were never close despite my being his godfather, which has an unusually deep significance among my sponsors. I tried to educate him, but that failed miserably. He was expelled from three colleges and whenever that happened, he turned up in New York where my sponsors promptly spoiled him with too much money and too many women. They thought he was wonderful while I couldn’t abide him — even when he was a child. I was more than happy when he decided to enter the motion picture industry. He wanted to be an actor. God knows he had the looks, but unfortunately he couldn’t act.”

“So I’ve heard,” I said. “I’ve also heard that he was a complete ham. That’s probably the real reason he winked when he went over; he couldn’t bear to keep the act to himself.”

“You are quite probably right,” Cole said. “At any rate after he moved to Los Angeles he sometimes flew into Washington, usually to borrow money which, for foolish, sentimental reasons, I quite readily lent him. At least I did until a little over two years ago.”

“Why did you stop?”

Cole shrugged. “I didn’t really. I merely asked him when he intended to repay the sums that he had already borrowed. He went into a total rage and stormed out of the room. This very room, in fact.”

“Then what?”

“He left that same night, quite suddenly, but not empty-handed.”

“He took something of yours with him?”

“Yes.”

“Something you’d like back?”

“Yes again.”

“What?” I said.

“There is a safe in this room — or there was. Angelo simply opened it, probably in search of cash. He found something better. Microfilmed records. As I’ve said, I keep meticulous records.”

“How did he open the safe, with a nail file?”

Cole sighed and shook his head. “Angelo is not stupid. When he wanted to learn, he could, and my sponsors and their associates in New York were willing teachers when he visited them. He learned a great many things from them and one of the things that he learned was how to open a safe. I had suddenly been called out of town; the servants were asleep, and Angelo simply blew it open.”

I rose and walked over to the cut-glass brandy bottle and poured myself another drink without asking. Then I moved over to the fireplace and watched the apple logs burn for a while. After a time, I turned to Cole who was watching me carefully.

“I can understand most of it,” I said. “Angelo found out that you were providing evidence on a more or less regular basis to the police or the FBI or God knows who. If your associates or sponsors or whatever you call them found out about it, you’d live another day, possibly two. So Angelo blackmails you out of nearly a million dollars which you paid and probably didn’t miss too much. But what I don’t understand is why Angelo pretended to die, nor do I understand why you’ve suddenly decided that I can do something to get you off the hook.”

“I’m afraid it’s a little complicated, Mr. Cauthorne.”

“Most things involving a million dollars are.”

“Yes, they are, aren’t they? But let’s take you first. What I want you to do is fairly simple. I want you to find Angelo Sacchetti, retrieve the missing records, and return them to me. For this I am willing to pay you fifty thousand dollars.”

“In Los Angeles, it was only twenty-five thousand dollars.”

“The matter has become more urgent since then.”

“Urgent enough to double the price?”

“Yes. Plus expenses, of course.”

“All right, let’s say I accept.”

“I hope that you will.”

“I haven’t yet, but let’s say that I do. Where do I find Angelo?”

“In Singapore.”

I stared at Cole. “You mean he was always in Singapore?”

Cole shook his head. “No, after he disappeared and pretended to be dead, he went to Cebu City in the Philippines. From there I understand that he went to Hong Kong and then established his present operation some eighteen months ago in Singapore.”

“What operation?”

Cole sighed and stared into the fire. “With the help of my reluctant financing and with the knowledge of tactics and procedure that he learned from my sponsors in New York, Angelo Sacchetti now runs a rather smooth operation in Singapore.”