Chapter Fifteen
Samantha Hackerman was still asleep in Jules Keller’s bed when the FBI and local police broke into the apartment. She started screaming until Terrasino came forward to identify them and calm her down. The project’s security chief pushed the officers out of the bedroom and told her to get dressed immediately.
‘What’s with the kid glove idea, Terrasino?’ grunted Hayes as they waited outside the bedroom for Samantha to put on her clothes. ‘She’s probably in this with Keller.’
‘No way,’ Terrasino disagreed. ‘Study the whole M.O., Hayes. Max Prüss alias Keller is a psycho. That’s been agreed. They work alone. The girl wouldn’t know a thing.’
Hayes looked dubious but held his tongue until Samantha, looking shocked and bewildered, came out of the bedroom and stared around at the police now going carefully through Keller’s files.
‘What’s wrong?’ she demanded of Terrasino. ‘What’s going on? Has anything happened to Jules?’
Terrasino poured the girl a brandy and told her to sip it.
‘What’s happened to Jules?’ she repeated.
It was Hayes who answered.
‘Keller has been arrested. He is the saboteur.’
The girl stared at him in disbelief.
‘It’s true, Sam,’ Terrasino told her gently. ‘I caught him in the act of setting up a bomb in the Albatross tonight.’
‘I don’t believe it,’ she said slowly.
‘It’s a fact,’ replied Hayes.
Samantha stared with a white, shocked face at him.
‘You … you are not saying that Jules is the mad bomber?’
‘I’m afraid that’s exactly what we are saying, Sam.’ Terrasino sighed.
‘But Jules couldn’t kill anyone … he wouldn’t … ’
Her voice ended in a gulping sob.
‘He’s apparently deceived a lot of people, Sam,’ Terrasino replied. ‘How long have you been going with him?’
The girl sank abruptly into a chair.
‘Three, maybe four weeks.’
‘Do you know much about him?’
‘Sure … ’ She suddenly realised that she didn’t know all that much about Keller’s past.
Hayes caught the hesitation in her voice.
‘Nothing he’s done or said during the weeks that you’ve known him has made you suspect him … made you suspicious about him?’
‘Suspect him in what way?’ demanded the girl.
‘Well, suspect that he, maybe, was not all there. That he was off his head.’
‘Jules is as sane as … ’
She caught herself.
‘Jules can’t be the bomber. I won’t believe it.’
‘He’s made no reference to anything which you thought was out of the ordinary?’ insisted Hayes.
‘No … ’ she suddenly remembered about Europe. Once again the hesitation was not lost on Hayes.
‘But you do remember something?’
‘Only that Jules said he was expecting to leave the project soon, that he was going to have enough money to spend a year in Europe and wanted me to go with him.’
Hayes exchanged a glance with Terrasino.
The FBI agent smiled apologetically at the girl and motioned to a policewoman who had entered the apartment.
‘Miss Hackerman, I’m afraid that I’m going to have to ask you to go with this officer here. I’ll have to take you into custody for a while for questioning. This officer will read you your rights but you are not really under arrest. If you want to help Keller I would advise you to co-operate all you can.’
The girl nodded dumbly and raised a worried, tear-stained face to look from Hayes to Terrasino. The security chief smiled and patted her shoulder.
‘Don’t worry, Sam. I know you haven’t done anything wrong. We’ll get things sorted out as soon as we can. Okay?’ Samantha sniffed and nodded.
As she was escorted out of the apartment by the policewoman, Hayes looked thoughtfully after her.
‘Yeah, I guess you are right, Terrasino,’ he said at last. ‘I don’t think the girl knew what Keller was up to. She wouldn’t have made a damaging admission that Keller was preparing to leave the project if she was covering up.’
‘Yet,’ mused Terrasino, ‘Keller sleeping with Samantha Hackerman doesn’t fit in with the traditional pattern of a psychotic; not the type of character who would write those notes, a man with a deep-felt grudge and paranoia.’
‘Maybe you’ve misjudged his character.’
‘Maybe … ’
*
The police psychiatrist entered Hayes’s office, nodded in acknowledgment at Terrasino and Vambrace, and dropped into a chair. He took the cigarette that Hayes offered and lit up. He was a worried-looking man in his mid-thirties, short and muscular with a square face and jutting jaw. He looked as though he would be more at home on a football field than in a psychiatric hospital.
‘Well?’ It was Hayes who gave the prompt.
‘If that guy is suffering from schizophrenia or paranoia then I am Napoleon Bonaparte,’ was the emphatic response.
Hayes gave an amused glance at Terrasino.
‘He’s legally sane?’
The psychiatrist smiled.
‘He’s as sane as anyone is in this goddam mad world we live in.’
Terrasino scowled in disbelief.
‘You don’t believe he’s a paranoid schizophrenic?’
‘Nope. You can get any other opinion you want but I guess we’ll all agree on this one.’
‘He’s not deluding you?’ pressed the security chief.
The psychiatrist shrugged.
‘There’s always the possibility … but I would say that the odds are ninety-nine per cent against it. We can all make mistakes. He might actually be a psychopath who has cleverly play-acted for two hours, but it isn’t easy for a man to fool someone trained to spot these things.’
‘Can I question him again?’ asked Terrasino, speaking to Hayes this time.
‘If you want,’ Hayes agreed. ‘But I guess this puts the lid on your psycho theory.’ Terrasino didn’t answer.
Keller was still sitting in the interrogation room, head cradled in his hands, leaning forward on the table.
He started up as Terrasino entered.
The security chief drew out a packet of cigarettes and offered it to him. Silently, Keller lit one up and exhaled deeply. ‘Well?’ he forced a smile. ‘Am I mad or what?’
‘No, you’re not mad, Keller,’ Terrasino said softly. ‘At least, that’s what the shrink says.’
‘But you still reckon that I’m the bomber, eh?’
Terrasino gazed at him thoughtfully before replying.
‘If the shrink had diagnosed schizophrenia, I would have had no hesitation.’
Keller glanced up. There was a sudden gleam of hope in his eye.
‘But now?’
‘Now I say that you are either a very clever actor, in which case we’ll find out soon enough because there’ll be shrinks in to see you like the proverbial locust swarm … ’
‘Or?’
‘Or you are telling the truth.’
Keller bit his lip.
‘It is the truth, I swear it! I was a fool, sure enough. I was prepared to damage the Albatross, to prevent her taking off on schedule. What I did was simply for money, no other reason. But I never planted an explosive before. I did not kill the Westbrooks or Jack Lane.’
The earnestness in his voice made Terrasino even more uneasy.
If Keller was merely mad, trying to get out of things, he would not be admitting enough to send him to prison for a long time. It was going to be a ten to fifteen year stretch anyway.
‘How’s Sam?’ Keller asked abruptly.
‘She was released a few hours ago. She’s been cleared of complicity. Maclaren has ordered her to take a long holiday with her parents down in Florida. She took some persuading. I will say this, she is loyal to you, Keller.’
Keller sighed.
<
br /> ‘What’s going to happen to me?’
The security chief shrugged.
‘You are in the number one hot spot. If we can prove you are not the mad bomber then things will be easier. If not … ’ He made a dismissive gesture. ‘Whatever happens, the least you’ll get is a ten to fifteen year stretch and no prospect of a career when they let you out. Was it worth it?’
Keller looked at him for a moment, remembering the Geneva bank account, and slowly smiled.
‘Perhaps,’ he said. ‘Perhaps.’
*
Terrasino bumped into Harry Maclaren as Maclaren was leaving his office after lunch on Sunday.
‘Hi, Terry. Were you looking for me?’
Terrasino grunted.
‘What’s up?’ Maclaren frowned as he turned to lock his office door.
‘It’s about Keller.’
Maclaren straightened up and grinned.
‘A damned good job, Terry. At least we’ll all be able to sleep nights now.’
‘I don’t believe he is the mad bomber.’
Maclaren started and gazed in astonishment at the security chief. Terrasino’s face was set in sombre lines.
‘You’ve got to be kidding,’ the project site manager said at last. ‘You actually caught him planting a bomb.’
‘Yeah,’ admitted Terrasino. ‘But nothing else ties up. The man who has been planting bombs and leaving notes is a psycho … I’ll bet my bottom dollar on it. Keller is not off his head. He’s cold, ruthless, cunning but a psycho he ain’t.’
‘Well, perhaps you’re wrong about that.’
Terrasino kicked at the floor.
‘Sure, sure. That’s exactly what Hayes keeps trying to tell me. He’s so cock-a-hoop that he has someone in the can he’s dosed his mind to any other possibility.’
‘I can’t see there is another possibility if you caught Keller in the act.’
‘Keller admits trying to delay the Albatross. He admits that he has been working for someone else, supplying them with information about our project. A purely financial transaction.’
‘Someone else?’
‘Yeah. We don’t need to look far. My guess is that Renard was meeting the payroll. Keller is small fry. A little man indulging in industrial espionage. He’s not the mad bomber.’ Maclaren was frowning.
‘It’s a pretty big coincidence to have two saboteurs on the same project.’
‘Maybe, but I think that’s the explanation. We have Keller, who is in it for profit, and our mad bomber … and the mad bomber is still at liberty.’
‘Did you say the FBI and FAA investigation teams do not agree with you?’
‘Yeah,’ admitted Terrasino. ‘I’m out on a limb on this one, Harry. It’s just my suspicion. I can’t substantiate anything yet.’
Harry Maclaren sighed.
‘So what you are saying is that we haven’t solved anything yet. That when the Albatross makes its first Transatlantic run tomorrow, we’re going to be carrying some nutcase on board who is going to do his best to blow it sky high.’
‘Can’t you persuade Badrick to delay the flight?’
‘No way,’ replied Maclaren. ‘He wasn’t prepared to do so before we caught Keller and, sure as hell, he won’t do so now everyone’s running around saying that Keller is the bomber.’
‘It would be easy to sit back and accept Keller is the man,’ said Terrasino. ‘But I can’t say it, Harry. There’s a pricking at the back of my skull which says Keller is telling the truth. It’s going to be a hell of a thing to live with … the Albatross lifting off and knowing that someone on board is a lunatic who’s going to try to blow the goddam thing up.’
PART THREE
Chapter One
John G. Badrick’s Executive Sikorsky S-76 helicopter touched down at the project site at exactly 8.30 a.m. on Monday. Harry Maclaren stood leaning slightly forward into the wind created by the whirling rotor blades and watched impassively as Badrick climbed out, turned and helped his wife and then his secretary from the machine. Maclaren forced a wan smile to embrace them ail as he held open the door of the limousine waiting to take them from the helicopter pad across the project site to the Albatross.
The high canvas windbreaks were still in position and only the giant silver tail of the mammoth aircraft could be seen.
‘Your staterooms are all ready,’ Maclaren said as the car neared the airship.
‘Fine,’ approved Badrick. ‘No problems, eh?’
‘We had to hustle some but — no problems.’
‘Any word from London about a cargo for the return journey?’ By bringing the Albatross’s flying schedule forward four days, Badrick had been forced to sacrifice his first cargo. There was no way the manufacturers could guarantee supply or loading. According to Sir Ashley Ashton, Renard had been lucky and managed to organise a token cargo for the first flight of the Charles de Gaulle. Renault had declared its faith in the French project and provided him with $350,000 worth of agricultural machinery for mid-West suppliers.
‘No,’ replied Maclaren, ‘we are still waiting to hear whether the English manufacturers can rearrange their supply times.’ Badrick nodded absently.
‘I want a cargo waiting for the Albatross when we start the return flight from England. We’ve got to make this bird pay her way as soon as we can.’
The limousine drew to a halt before the main companion way.
As they climbed up, Badrick gazed up at the giant flying-ship. For the first time there was a slight look of awe on his face.
‘History in the making, Harry. History in the making,’ he whispered.
‘Let’s hope we don’t regret it,’ muttered Maclaren morosely.
*
Garry Carson climbed into his 1934 Cord and sat for a moment before switching on. He let his eyes glide over its sleek white lines before starting up and letting the machine purr out of his driveway, gathering speed along Edward Payson Park and into Ocean Avenue. It was a bright sunny morning and Carson felt strangely exhilarated. This was easily explained today, the day of the Albatross first major flight. Yet mingled with the exhilaration was relief. After the immediate anguish of the last few days, he realised that he was relieved that the situation with Helen had finally reached a state of catharsis; that she had, at last, decided to act.
He would have been a fool not to have admitted that his marriage had been intolerable during the last two years. There had been a total lack of communication between Helen and himself. What he had not been able to abide was the constant pretence that things were alright. At least Helen had made a decision to act. Now he could act in turn.
He was sure that Helen was mixed up with another man. Of course, he knew that she had moved in with the Terrasinos. Terry was a good friend of his. Perhaps when things were settled aboard the Albatross, he would have a word with the security chief. Maybe Helen had confided in Maria. He wondered briefly who the man was. For the moment, Carson had no intention of allowing Helen an easy divorce. He was too angry, his ego had been too hurt, to allow that.
Hell! He must try not to think about Helen during the next few days. His primary task was to nurse the Albatross over the Atlantic and back. The major problem, as he saw it, was Tom Saxon. He was beginning to regret his suggestion to Maclaren which had resulted in Saxon becoming the project’s second test pilot. He didn’t trust Saxon where booze was concerned. However, there was little that could be done until Saxon really blew his cover. Grounding a pilot without a hundred per cent watertight case was a dangerous business. That would bring down the Airline Pilots Association, Allied Pilots Association and all their cohorts. No one would like to take the responsibility, least of all Carson. Not until he had something definite. All the same, Art Stein would have made a more reliable number two pilot.
Carson swung his car over the New Fore River Bridge, drove along the Portland Airport perimeter fence and then turned off to the project site. The place was crowded with people, almost as many as had been there to witness the p
revious flights of the airship. They bunched along the wire perimeter fence of the project site and crowded around the main gate. The security guards, recognising Carson’s Cord, waved back the crowd and motioned him through. The spectators didn’t pay him a second glance. All eyes were on the visible parts of the grey monster, almost hidden behind the canvas windbreaks.
*
Terry Terrasino was feeling anxious as he threw some clothes into a suitcase and glanced at his wristwatch.
Maria Terrasino smiled at him from the doorway.
‘Don’t worry. There’s plenty of time.’
It was not being late that was worrying the security chief; it was the idea that somewhere on board the Albatross was a maniac who was going to go for the ‘grand slam’ within the next two and a half days. Badrick was a pazzo to approve this flight. However, he could not tell Maria what was really on his mind. He turned and grinned.
‘It’s not the time I worry about, cara … it’s you driving me to the project site.’
Maria reached down and threw a pillow at him.
‘Chauvinist!’ she smiled. ‘Get a move on.’
She looked at her watch.
‘Helen is supposed to come with us. We were going to watch the take-off together.’
‘Where is she? I thought I heard her going out pretty early.’
Maria shrugged.
‘Maybe she went to see Tom Saxon.’
Terrasino pulled a face.
‘That ubriacone! I don’t understand it. Garry is a good friend of mine, Maria. I hate to see his marriage break up because of a no-good beone!’
Maria bit her lip. Over the last two days she had regretted telling her husband the whole story. She was feeling guilty that she had not respected Helen’s wish to keep Saxon out of the picture.
‘Helen’s marriage to Garry was over a long time ago, Helen says. It was not just because of Saxon.’
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