Arthur Hailey - Overload

Wineski announced in a loud, clear voice, "We are police officers." He ordered, "Don't move! Leave everything where it is."

At the sound of the opening door, two of the men working had spun around.

The third, who was lying full length and working on the gas meter bypass, rolled sideways to see what was happening, then shifted quickly to a crouch. All three were wearing neat, uniform-type coveralls with shoulder patches bearing the intertwined initials Q.E.G.C. which later inquiry would enlarge to Quayle Electrical & Gas Contracting.

Of the two men nearest the entry door, one was huge, bearded, and with the physique of a wrestler. His forearms, where the sleeves were rolled back, showed bulging muscles. no other was young-he seemed little more than a boy-with a narrow, sharp-featured face. It registered instant fright.

The big, bearded man was less intimidated. Ignoring the command not to move, he grabbed a heavy pipe wrench, raised it, and leaped forward.

Harry London, who had stayed back as instructed, saw Wineski reach swiftly under his coat; an instant later a gun was in his hand. The detective rapped out, "I'm a crack shot. Is you move another foot I'll put a bullet in your leg." As the bearded giant hesitated: "Drop the wrench-now!"

The other detective, Brown, had produced a gun also, and reluctantly the would-be attacker obeyed.

"You by the wall!" Wineski snapped; the third man, older than the other two, was now standing upright and looked as if he would try to run. "Don't start anything! just turn around and face that wall! You other two-join him, do the same."

Scowling, with hatred in his eyes, the bearded man moved back. The youthful workman, his face white, his body visibly trembling, had already hurried to comply.

There was a pause in which three sets of handcuffs clicked.

"All right, Harry," Wineski called over. "Now tell us what all this stuff means."

"It's the kind of solid evidence we've been looking for," the Property Protection chief assured him. "Proof of big-time electric and gas stealing."

"You'll swear to that in court?"

"Sure will. So will others. We'll give you as many expert witnesses as you want."

"Good enough."

Wineski addressed the three handcuffed men. "Keep facing the wall but listen carefully. You are all under arrest and I am required to advise you of your rights. You are not obliged to make a statement. However, if you do . . ."

When the words of the familiar Miranda ritual were finished, Wineski motioned Brown and London to join him by the outer door. Keeping his voice low, be told them, "I want to split these birds. From the look of him, the kid's ready to break; he may talk. Brownie, get to a phone. Call in for another car."

"Right." the second detective put away his gun and went out.

The door to the stairway was now open and, moments later, hurrying feet could be beard coming down. As London and Wineski swung toward the doorway, Art Romeo appeared and the two relaxed.

Harry London told his deputy, "Pay dirt. Take a look."

The little man who, as usual, looked like a shifty underworld cbaracter himself, Surveyed the scene and whistled softly.

Lieutenant Wineski, who had known Romeo before he worked for GSP & L, told him, "If that's camera equipment you've got, better start shooting."

"Will do, Lieutenant." Romeo unslung a black leather case from his shoulder and began assembling a pbotoflash unit.

While he was taking several dozen photographs, from various angles, of the spread-out equipment and uncompleted illegal work, police reinforcements arrived-two uniformed officers, accompanied by the returning Detective Brown.

A few minutes later the arrested men were led out-the youngest, still frightened, first and separately. While one uniformed officer remained to guard the evidence, Wineski followed. He told Harry London with a wink, "Want to question that kid myself. Let you know what happens."

"Wineski was dead right," Harry London informed Nim Goldman. “The kid-he was eighteen, by the way, and not long out of trade school-broke down and spilled his guts. Then Wineski and Brown used what he told them to pry more information out of the other two."

It was four days after the confrontation and arrests at the Zaco Building. Immediately following those events London had reported briefly to Nim. Now, as Nim's guest at lunch in the officers' dining room at GSP & L headquarters, he was supplying further details.

"Go ahead," Nim said, "tell me more." they had paused to enjoy large mouthfuls of lamb stew-a popular "special of the day" for which the chef was noted.

"Well, according to Boris Wineski, when they questioned the big guy-his name is Kasner-he didn't talk much. He's street-wise, has an arrest record, no convictions. The older one, who was working on the gas bypass, let out a few things we didn't know, then he clammed up too. By that time, though, it didn't matter. The police had all the important information-and their truck."

"Oh, yes, the truck. Did the police impound it?"

"Damn right!" Not surprisingly, London sounded happy; he had been in an upbeat mood for the past few days. "That truck was loaded up with even more evidence of illegality than was left around in the Zaco Building.

There were electric meters, seals, locking rings and keys, meter-size jumper cables, you name it. And almost all the stuff was stolen-naturally. You can't buy those items on the open market. One thing we now believe is that the Quayle people have a helper right here in the company who has been their source of supply. We're working on the accomplice angle."

"That Quayle outfit," Nim queried, "What's been found out about them?"

"Plenty. First, there was enough damaging stuff on the truck and in the Zaco Building for Wineski to ask for a warrant to search the Quayle offices. He did ask, and he got it fast. Result: the police were in there before the Quayle people even knew their men had been arrested."

"Don't let your stew get cold," Nim said. "It's good."

"Sure is. Fix it so that I eat up here more often, would you?"

"Go on getting the kind of results you did last week, and you could be up here regularly before you know it."

The dining room, reserved for company vice presidents and above, and their guests, was modest in size and decor, so as not to create an impression of opulence when outsiders were brought in. But the food was exceptional. Its quality far exceeded that of the general staff cafeteria located on a lower floor.

"Getting back to Quayle Electrical & Gas," London said, "first they've got a legit business-good size, with a fleet of twenty-five trucks. They also have a string of subcontractors, smaller firms, to whom they farm out work.

The way it looks now-and again I'm quoting Lieutenant Wineski-is that Quayle has used the legitimate side of its business as a cover for power stealing, which they've been into in a big way. There was a lot more material on their premises-the same kind of stuff that was on the truck they sent to Zaco."

"Tell me one thing," Nim said. "If a company like Quayle was legit to begin with, why in God's name would they get into power theft?"

London shrugged. “The oldest reason: Money. Some of this is guesswork, but the way the pieces are coming together it looks as if Quayle -like a lot of businesses nowadays-has had trouble making a profit because of high costs. But the illegal stuff shows a big profit. Why? Because they can charge maybe five, six, seven times what they would for ordinary work. And the outfits they do it for-like the Zacc, Building are glad to pay because they expect even bigger savings in their costs. Something else you have to remember, Nim, is that until recently it's all been easy, a pushover; they've gotten away with it."