Hudson frowned. “Really? Why?” Then he smiled. “I’ve enjoyed dinner with you these past few evenings and I was looking forward to many more.”
“Me too,” Mattie said, the white lie coming easily, “but business comes first. Hearst wants to keep this story secret. Only you, me and him for now. No one else is to know about the twins angle. He’s dividing up the country between us. You have Denver, Portland, Seattle, San Francisco and Los Angeles. A different Hearst reporter will meet you in each city. Track down the victims’ birth certificates to see if we find more twins. I think we will. I’ll drop you tomorrow in Toledo, an hour north of here. You can book passage from there to Denver.”
Hudson nodded but he wasn’t happy. “If I didn’t have bad luck when it comes to timing, I wouldn’t have any. You remember that night in Pittsburgh when I mentioned the Allied intervention in Russia and the slaughter at Archangel?”
“Yes. You were clearly upset and said you had lost someone there very close to you.”
Hudson nodded. “That’s what I meant about timing. My fiancée Elizabeth was a nurse in a field hospital there. Their orders to evacuate had been cut and she was supposed to be on a Navy ship a week before the Bolsheviks overran their hospital and killed everyone there, patients and medical staff alike. Except the ship never came. Beth’s last letter to me said they expected the ship any day but the goddamn ship never came.”
“I’m sorry. That’s horrible.”
“Yeah, well, I guess I mentioned it the other night because you’ve always reminded me a lot of Beth. She never took any crap from me either. That’s probably one of the reasons why I fell in love with you and proposed in Paris. Just another example of bad timing biting me in the ass. Look, I know my timing was lousy back in ’29. It was too soon for me to propose. After that French bastard’s betrayal, you needed time to heal. I’m just sorry that by the time you did, Cockran and not me was lucky enough to be the right man at the right time in the right place. I once told you I never finished second to him in anything but that doesn’t include you. I’ve gotten over my disappointment but I still feel the same way about you now that I did in Paris. Besides Beth, you’re the only girl to whom I ever proposed. I hope for your sake that Cockran’s the right one. Really. If he is, then I’m happy for you and I wish you both the best.”
Mattie didn’t reply immediately, surprised at Ted’s insight as well as showing her a vulnerable side of himself he had heretofore kept hidden. It was an attractive side as was the boyish grin which accompanied it and it brought back, for a brief moment, her guilt over turning down his proposal after their torrid week in Paris. But it was neither bad luck nor timing, she told herself. It was love. She liked him well enough but she had never loved Ted. And Cockran bloody well was the right one.
“Thank you. That’s very sweet. And I understand the pain of losing a fiancé in the war. I did too but we both need to focus on the future,” Mattie said. “This is a big break in our story. Trust me. My instincts tell me twins are the key.” She raised her glass in the air and moved it toward Ted, inviting a toast. He responded and their stemmed glasses gently clinked.
“To us,” Hudson said.
“To our story,” Mattie corrected.
The rare roast beef at dinner were excellent as was the wine cellar, Ted ordering a bottle of the 1921 Margaux. Mattie protested that her expense account couldn’t afford it.
“My expense account can’t either,” he said with a wink, “but my trust fund can.”
Outside Findlay, Ohio
AFTER dinner, Mattie was feeling tipsy, but she was in a light-hearted mood and full of confidence that the story was going to break exactly as she had predicted. She was surprised when Hudson suggested they go dancing to top off the evening. She readily accepted. Mattie loved to dance but Cockran didn’t. As a result, she had little opportunity to indulge one of her favorite things. Had she ever told Ted that? She didn’t think so but she might have.
They piled into their motorcar and headed north on Route 25. “There’s a roadhouse ten miles out of town,” Hudson said as he drove. “I considered taking us there for dinner because of the dancing, but I was told that the food wasn’t nearly as good as at the Hotel Phoenix.”
“I’m glad you didn’t. The prime rib was great,” Mattie said, “and so were the Oysters Rockefeller. Even better than last night. Now, we’ll have the best of both worlds.”
Twenty minutes later they pulled up at the roadhouse and its crowded parking lot. Hudson drove to the far end where there were fewer cars. A stand of trees was between it and the highway. Inside the roadhouse, Hudson’s $20 bill secured them their own booth.
Mattie knew Hudson was an accomplished dancer from the week she spent in Paris with him. The small jazz band was hopping; Hudson knew the moves; and Mattie had a ball. They polished off a bottle of champagne and, at one point, they were the only couple on the floor as the other couples watched and cheered them on, the male voices louder than the female, Mattie suspected, because it was her silk knickers and garter belt on full display when he twirled her in the air and then brought her back between his legs. It left her breathless but she felt great.
At 2:00 a.m. the band leader announced it was the last dance. There had been few slow dances but Mattie could hardly refuse Ted’s offer to dance. She felt Ted’s big warm hand caressing her bare back as they glided across the room. Having shared a bottle of champagne on top of the martinis and wine at dinner, Mattie began to regret last night’s promise of redeeming Ted’s rain check for a nightcap tonight. Pressed together as they moved around the floor, she could feel what one part of Ted had in mind beyond a nightcap.
The dance over, Mattie and Hudson returned to their booth where, against her better judgment, she let Ted order two brandies. She barely touched hers and a half hour later, he checked his watch. “Time to call it a night.” Hudson got their coats, tipped the hat check girl and then tossed the keys to Mattie. “Go ahead and warm the car up. I’ve got to visit the little boys’ room and I wouldn’t want you waiting in the cold.”
Mattie’s reflexes were quick and she grabbed the keys in midair. Maybe the alcohol hadn’t affected her that much. “All right. I’ll drive the car around to the front.”
25.
The Bitch Deserved It
Woolworth Building
New York City
Saturday, 14 May 1932
WESLEY Waterman had been in Washington on Thursday and Friday and taken the night train back to New York to which his private railcar had been attached. He had been outraged upon arriving at I.C.E. headquarters that Saturday morning to find the court order freezing his assets, and keeping him away from his penthouse on Central Park West. But he put off summoning his lawyer because he had real work to do during the day. That bitch of a Hearst reporter was in the home town of one of their clinical subjects and that was not a good development. Hopefully, the peril she posed to the project would soon be a thing of the past. He wished he could say the same for his gold-digging wife. After making a few phone calls to ensure the Hearst reporter would not present a further problem, he had summoned the incompetent fool who allowed this travesty of justice to happen.
The ugly little toad was now sitting in an arm chair, cowering in front of him.
“You idiot!” Wesley Waterman shouted. “My assets frozen! Ordered out of my own home! What do you think I’m paying you for?”
Chester Bowles nervously wiped the perspiration from his brow. “I’m sorry, Mr. Waterman, but they had photographs.”
“Photographs!” Waterman roared. “I gave you photographs of my two-bit whore of a wife being thoroughly fucked by her lover. That should have been enough to sink her forever. Even an idiot could have done that. Why couldn’t you? Just how incompetent can one lawyer be? Explain that!”
“They had other naked photographs of your wife showing how she had been beaten up.”
“So what?” Waterman said. “The bitch deserved it. She was screwing around o
n me.”
“Unfortunately, Mr. Waterman,” Bowles continued, “There also were photographs of you and a blonde-haired young woman taken Wednesday evening in her apartment on Park Avenue.”
“Pamela!” Waterman said and pounded the table. “Those bastards broke into Pamela’s apartment and took photographs of us?”
“No. According to their private investigator, she let him into the apartment and set him up in her bedroom closet.”
Waterman frowned. Pamela was going to learn that Wesley Waterman was not a man whom you could double-cross with impunity. But for now, that could wait.
“What moron did you draw for a judge?”
“We didn’t have good luck there. The judge is Miriam Perkins and I doubt if she approves of wives being beaten. Frankly, the photographs of you and your wife in bed with other people was a wash. The photographs of her beating is what tipped the scales.”
Waterman frowned. He had met her at society balls. Friedman was her maiden name. A Jew and a woman, he thought. What was the American judiciary coming to? Tomorrow was going to be a busy day.
“Look, Bowles. I want you to call Foster Dulles. Here’s his unlisted telephone number. See him tomorrow. I want you acting on my behalf and Sullivan & Cromwell lawyers acting on behalf of I.C.E. to be in court first thing Monday morning and get those assets unfrozen. OK?”
“Yes, sir,” Bowles said, “but I don’t think Judge Perkins is going to be willing …”
“I don’t care what you think. That’s why I’m sending you to Dulles. I want to know what someone with brains thinks about this. As for that Jewish judge, let me worry about her.”
Alone again, Waterman pondered his next steps. Ingrid? Right now, death was too good for her. That would come soon enough. Meanwhile, screw General Van Deman. What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. Tomorrow night, he would pay a conjugal visit to his Central Park West penthouse accompanied by the two ex-MID agents. They couldn’t take Cockran down but he assumed they at least could strip and hold a wife down while her husband exercised his marital rights. An eye for an eye. He smiled. And an eyeful for them plus a small cash bonus would keep them from telling Van Deman that they had again been used for something other than Project Gemini.
Waterman paused. Project Gemini. Of course! Why hadn’t he thought of it before? Perhaps there was an additional way to get even with his faithless wife and advance the interests of national security at the same time. There were those close to her who were vulnerable and he wondered if there were a way, before she died, for her to be told the real price he had made her pay for her infidelity. Time to telephone Dr. V.
26.
A Sitting Duck
Outside Findlay, Ohio
Sunday, 15 May 1932
MATTIE was surprised to see how quickly the parking lot had emptied, no more than three or four cars remaining. She swung her small purse by its metal chain as she walked, heavier than usual because it contained her Walther PPK. She quickly thought back to those thugs in Cleveland. Who the hell had put Owney Madden on to her story and her itinerary? And why was some ex-government guy his partner? Eddie’s confession proved it hadn’t been her imagination that someone had followed her car from Nela Park to Public Square in Cleveland. Hudson had been wrong about that. But she couldn’t worry about it now. Checking out additional birth certificates was more important.
Mattie approached their motorcar and rested her right foot lightly on the running board as she unlocked the driver’s side door. She had just opened the door when the first shot rang out. It came from the dark woods behind her while she was bathed in the bright glare of the overhead lights in the parking lot. “Ted!” she screamed as she dropped to the ground and a second shot shattered the glass of the rear door on the left-hand side of the car. She crouched behind the motorcar’s long hood, pulled the Walther from her purse and cautiously peeked up. She ducked again as two more shots were fired. She was safe here for now and, even if there was more than one shooter, they wouldn’t be able to outflank her, not in this light.
Mattie saw a shadow move in the woods to her right, and she fired a shot. Then she saw in her peripheral vision a shadow in the woods to her left and fired another shot just as all the lights in the parking lot suddenly shut off. Damn! she thought. There were two of them, for sure. And, from the direction they were moving in, they were trying to outflank her and take her from either side. “Ted!” she shouted again. Where the hell was Hudson when you needed him?
“Mattie!” a voice hissed from behind a blue Chevrolet twenty feet away. “Are you OK?”
“Yes, but there are two of them,” Mattie replied.
“Stay where you are,” Hudson said. “Watch out to your left. Cover me. It’s Plan B time.”
“You’re covered,” Mattie said and snapped off two quick shots as Ted made a dash to the woods. There was no return fire. Thirty seconds passed and still no shots were fired. Finally, she heard the crack of two shots coming from a .45 caliber automatic and saw a man emerge from the trees to her left, a good thirty yards from her, moving fast. It wasn’t Ted. Mattie brought the Walther to bear and hesitated. It was a waste of ammunition trying to hit a fleeing man at what was now forty yards.
Mattie saw Hudson also bolt from the woods to her left. He knelt on one knee, held his .45 Colt automatic in his right hand, steadying it with his left under the pistol grip, arms fully extended. The fleeing man was a good fifty yards from Hudson when he squeezed the trigger. The Colt jerked upwards and the front of the man’s head exploded in a shower of blood.
Mattie gasped, startled at the carnage, only dimly aware of how impressive Ted’s shot had been. She stepped from behind the car, put the Walther in her pocket and began to shake uncontrollably as the reality of almost being killed hit her. When Hudson tucked his Colt in the small of his back and came over to check on her, her heart was still racing as she instinctively embraced him. She needed to be held. Ted put his arms around her and pulled her in close.
“Thank God you came when you did,” Mattie said at last, finally pulling back from the warmth of his body while he continued to softly stroke her hair. “Did you get the other man?”
Ted pulled back also, his hands on her arms and nodded. “You were right. These are the same guys from last night.” He shook his head and snorted. “Incompetent bunglers, both of them. They’re better off dead. If they had been decent shots, you wouldn’t have stood a chance. I was just coming out of the nightclub when I heard the first shots. You were clearly illuminated, a sitting duck. That’s why I killed the lights after you weren’t hit. You should have been dead twice over. I don’t know how they missed you. You are one lucky woman.”
“You got that right. Who’s the one you just shot?” Mattie asked.
“Eddie, our guest in your suite last night,” Hudson replied.
Mattie handed the car keys to Hudson. She wanted to find out more about the other shooter. “We need to get out of here before the police arrive. I’ve got to get you to Toledo tomorrow and myself to Detroit so we can’t hang around Findlay giving statements to the sheriff or police, or whoever has jurisdiction here. Take the motorcar out to the road and wait with your lights off on the side of the road a hundred yards south of the nightclub. I’ll meet you there.”
“I agree we need to leave quickly,” Hudson said, “but why aren’t you coming with me?”
“I’m going into the woods to check out the ID on the first guy you shot. I should have done it last night. Who those guys were and why this Dr. V hired them is critical to finding out who’s responsible for these murders,” Mattie said.
“I can do that for you,” Hudson said. “No need for you to get your slippers dirty.”
“No,” Mattie said, “get moving, Ted. We’re wasting time. I’m already dirty and I can buy new shoes. You need to be out there with your lights out before the police arrive.”
Hudson reluctantly got into the motorcar and Mattie headed toward the woods between the nightclub and the
highway. By the time she reached the edge of the woods, some thirty yards away, she could hear the wail of sirens in the distance.
MATTIE sat soaking in the tub back at the hotel and took a healthy sip of scotch from a crystal tumbler on the floor beside her, her second drink since returning. Being held by Ted had been comforting but a hot bath and a drink were better. She went over once more what she had found. Or rather, had not found. Unlike Eddie last night who had both a billfold with a driver’s license, the ex-Government guy called “Frank” had neither. The only thing in his pockets was a Chinese laundry ticket from Washington, D.C. Also, Frank’s weapon was a Colt New Service 1917 revolver which Mattie knew was standard U.S. Army issue in 1918. The death of Frank was bothering her. Hudson had shot him execution style in his forehead. Up close, because the powder burns were evident around the wound. How had the man allowed Ted to get that close?
She had asked Ted about that, but his only reply had been, “He never heard me coming. By the time he did, it was too late. I haven’t been in the field for nearly three years but some things you never forget. Quietly coming up behind an adversary is one of them.” He had turned his face toward Mattie. A cold face that carried no trace of his trademark smile nor the comforting warmth of his embrace. “I’m very good at what I do.” She supposed he was.
Mattie heard a knock at the interior door between her room and Ted’s. “Yes?”
“We need to talk. And I’m carrying that rain check.” Ted’s muffled voice said through the door, which Mattie had securely locked from her side. Mattie sighed, once more regretting the rain check. A nightcap with Ted Hudson at 3 a.m. was the last thing she needed. It was bad enough she hadn’t called Cockran now for two nights running.
“Just a second,” Mattie called out, as she stepped out of the tub and began toweling off. She wrapped the green silk robe over her still damp body, well aware it would be obvious to Ted that she was naked beneath its clinging, filmy fabric. But she sure as hell wasn’t going to bother getting fully dressed at three in the morning when all she wanted to do was crawl into bed.
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