by Ted Allbeury
“But it’ll be in your records?”
“I should think so.”
“Were you satisfied that the arbitration was properly done?”
Haig shrugged. “I’ve no idea whether it was properly done or not. The company were satisfied with the outcome.”
“From the press reports I gather that Powell received no fee for his work?”
“That’s true.”
“But you gave a substantial sum to his campaign fund? Was that you personally or the company?”
Haig’s face was grim. He thrust down the letter-opener and, with his elbows on the desk, he leaned forwards towards Nolan.
“What’s that got to do with a union investigation, Mr. Nolan?”
“There’s no trace of the union chipping into the campaign fund a similar amount.”
“So what?”
“So I’d be grateful for an answer to my question. Was the contribution yours or the company’s?”
“Mine.”
“Was it registered?”
“I’ve no idea. I assume it was.”
Nolan shifted in his chair as if he were making himself comfortable.
“I’d be glad if you could check the union man’s name and number, Mr. Haig.”
Haig put his hand on a single sheet of paper and slid it across the desk. It said “SIWECKI TADEUSZ 770431/1 Electrical workers 95.”
Nolan picked up the paper and stood up.
“Thanks for your help, Mr. Haig.”
Haig looked surprised.
“Is that all?”
Nolan gave him a long, hard look.
“Unless there’s anything else you’d care to tell me.”
Haig shook his head slowly.
“No, Mr. Nolan. There’s nothing else.”
Pinto’s Place was about what he expected. The electricity bill wasn’t going to be high because of the lighting. It was pink-shaded everywhere, and faces were only recognizable close-to. An ideal set-up, he thought, for those meetings after office hours before the tired businessman faces the rigours of his home. Gary Baker was sitting with a girl in one of the curved booths that were built up on a dais so that the occupants were almost out of the line of sight.
The young man introduced Nolan, finished his drink, and left Nolan to take his place opposite the girl.
As Gary Baker had said, she was gorgeous. Big brown eyes, a neat nose and a wide mouth with healthy teeth. The tight-fitting dress had a V-neck that revealed a lot of bosom but, somehow, the effect was not of deliberate provocation but more an indifference or acceptance of the fact that men would look at the lush mounds anyway. The amused smile as his eyes went back to her face was more of an invitation than the cleavage.
“Gary says you’re interested in some of our local brass?”
“One or two. Tell me about you.”
The big brown eyes looked at him shrewdly. “Whatever it is you want you don’t have to go through that jazz.”
“What jazz is that?”
“My life story, and what a nice girl like me is doing in a dump like this.”
Nolan smiled, waved over the waiter and ordered drinks for them both.
“I was genuinely interested, Miss Angelo. I’m sorry if I sounded impertinent.”
“What were you interested in?”
“Well, you’re very beautiful, very lively, very …” He hesitated for a word and she said, “Sexy?”
“No,” he said. “Well, yes … but the word I would have used was vital.”
She was smiling and it was a genuine smile.
“My Momma came from Laredo and my Daddy was from Acapulco. He was a lawyer. A very handsome man, and Momma was very pretty. When they were married they moved to New York. Daddy was crazy about girls and they fought like tigers. He couldn’t help it, it was all that inbred Mexican machismo. Finally Momma had had enough and she threw him out. He lived happy ever after, collecting teenage blondes, and Momma was desperately unhappy for twenty years. She died two years ago.”
“And your father?”
“Still happy. He’s raised the age limit to twenty, now.”
“You sound as if you like him.”
“I liked them both. I understood them both. He didn’t want to marry them. He thought he was happily married. He would visit Momma long after they were divorced. Big white smile, bunches of roses, invitations to dinner. He never understood.” She looked at him smiling. “So that mixture is me. Brown skin, white smile and unmarried because I’m still not sure who was right.” He looked at the lovely face and found her strangely, exotically attractive. It was like the fascination of reaching out to touch two bare electric wires.
“Would you stay for a meal?”
For a moment she hesitated, then she nodded. “Thanks. That would be nice.”
When the waitress had brought the main course he looked over at her.
“D’you mind if we talk business while we eat?”
“No. Go ahead. It’s Oakes, isn’t it?”
“Yes. Tell me about him.”
The big brown eyes looked at his face.
“You’re not IRS are you?”
He hesitated only for a moment. “No. What made you doubt it?”
She shrugged. “For one, I see plenty of IRS guys and you don’t fit. For two, there was an IRS senior man down here a month ago just before the election, sniffing around Oakes. Some Democrat had put the pressure on Washington to check out the possible new Senator. Both parties do it, it’s routine. For three, I’d guess you’d never catch Jim Oakes on tax. It’s his speciality, and he’s good at it. For four, I rather like you, and that means you couldn’t possibly be IRS.”
Nolan smiled slowly. “Sounds a pretty shrewd list.”
“So what are you?”
“If it’s the only way you would help me I’ll tell you, but I’d rather not.”
She waited while he poured her a coffee.
“What is it you want to know about Jim Oakes?”
“I don’t know. Just tell me about him.”
“He’s just short of fifty. Married. Senior partner in a respected law firm that’s not as financially successful as he gives out. Owns 40 per cent of a real-estate development by the river. Leading political figure for years. Was Chairman of Connecticut Republican Party before the election. Newly elected Junior Senator.”
She smiled as she finished, and Nolan nodded.
“That’s the image. What’s behind it?”
“He was desperately short of money until this real-estate deal came up. Now he’s got plenty. He’s a man with money. And he’s a randy bastard.”
“Where did he raise the money for the real-estate deal?”
“A New York outfit called Gramercy Realtors. The guy he writes to is named de Jong. He also gets separate payments from an outfit called the Halpern Trust.”
“What amounts are we talking about?”
“He’s got two New York accounts, both at least a hundred grand. And the payment from Halpern Trust is a thousand a month.”
“What account is that paid into?”
“At First National here in Hartford.”
“How d’you know this, Maria?”
She looked at him calmly. “You know how I know. I’m sure Gary told you that Oakes screws me.”
He looked down to avoid her eyes and stirred his coffee. Then he looked back at her face.
“D’you know a guy named Siwecki?”
“Yeah. I know the family.”
“Tell me about the union one.”
“That’s the father—Tad Siwecki. He was union organizer at Haig Electronics. There was a strike and a few months afterwards he left to run the AFL-CIO local. He retired about a couple of years ago. He lives in one of the houses on Oakes’s development.”
“Must have a pretty good pension.”
“He gets a monthly payment from Oakes.”
“How much?”
“Last time I heard it was five hundred a month.”
�
�What’s the payment for?”
“I’m not sure. It’s some sort of deal with a guy named Dempsey. The one who’s alongside Powell.”
“Tell me about Dempsey.”
She smiled. “Real dishy, heir to a few millions, something to do with art in New York. Not married, but not for lack of opportunity, I’d guess. Only got mixed up in politics when Powell first ran for Governor. Nice guy.”
“Is Oakes out of town very often?”
“Not much. He generally takes a family holiday in Miami, and apart from that it’s mainly New York.”
“How often does he go there?”
“Once a week generally.”
“Where does he stay?”
“At the Waldorf Astoria unless I’ve been with him, then we stay at an apartment on 38th. It belongs to some friend of his.”
“Are you fond of him?”
“Not the slightest, or I wouldn’t be talking to you.”
He looked at her intently. “Why the relationship, then?”
She shrugged. “Way back I was impressed that he was interested in me. Now I guess it’s habit and money. I guess I’m like my Daddy, too. I like what he does.”
“Can I give you a lift home?”
“Sure.”
He pulled up on the forecourt of the block of flats where she lived, and her eyes caught the lights from the foyer as she turned to look at him.
“Where are you going to now?”
“To see Siwecki.”
“And afterwards?”
“Back to my place.”
“Where’s that?”
“Just out of town.”
Her face was lifted to his and she said softly, “Come back and see me after Siwecki.”
And instinctively, unbelievably, his mouth was on hers. The soft lips responding, and the soft warmth of her breasts against his arm. He pulled away gently.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be silly. I wanted you to. Say you’ll come back later.”
“I’m married to a gal like your momma, Maria.”
“You want me, don’t you?”
“Of course I do, you’re beautiful.”
She took his hand and slid it up to her breast, and as they kissed again his fingers squeezed the firm mound and she pulled her mouth away from his.
“Have me now. Quickly.”
“That’s crazy, Maria. People would see us, for God’s sake.”
“So come back later and have me. You don’t have to stay, or say you love me. Just do it to me.”
“We’ll see, honey. We’ll see.”
As she opened the car door she leaned back to kiss him.
“I’ll wait,” she whispered.
He turned the car at the hotel entrance and joined the traffic heading out of the city centre, and two cars waited in line behind him. When he turned off the main road towards the river the second car was a long way behind.
There were lights on in Siwecki’s house as he walked up the drive and there was the sound of music inside as he reached up to ring the bell. A woman answered the door. She was black-haired and handsome in a gipsyish sort of way. Her eyes were suspicious, but he guessed that they always were.
“I’d like to talk to Mr. Siwecki.”
She turned away and shouted in Polish, and a man’s voice shouted back. The woman looked back at him.
“He say who are you an’ what you want?”
“My name is Nolan, I’m from Washington.”
She shouted again, and a few seconds later a man appeared at an inner door, a newspaper in his hand.
“Come in,” he called. And he held the door open for Nolan to go through.
There was a three-seater sofa in front of the TV set. And John Wayne was giving one of his closing sermons to a small boy who was holding the hand of a beautiful but unlikely mother. Siwecki leaned over and switched off the set.
He waved the paper at the sofa. “Sit down, mister.”
He waited while Nolan took off his coat.
“The old lady say you from Washington. I don’t believe that.”
Nolan smiled. “I am, Mr. Siwecki, and I need your help.”
The big man snorted his disbelief but said nothing. A legacy from years of hard bargaining.
“I’d like to go back to when you were at Haig Electronics and you had a strike.”
The Pole’s eyes half-closed. “What about it?”
Nolan looked at him calmly. “Who fixed that strike, Mr. Siwecki?”
“You mean who was the arbitrator?”
“No. I know that was Mr. Powell. I mean who arranged the strike?”
“Nobody arranged it, mister. It happened.”
“Why do you live here, Mr. Siwecki?”
Siwecki looked surprised. “Why not? Why does anybody live anywhere?”
“I mean why do you live in this particular house?”
“Because I like. Is nice house for me.”
“You never earned enough money at Haig’s to buy this house.”
Siwecki shifted uneasily then smiled. “I win money on horses. I save it up for when I retire.”
“Why do you get money from Mr. Oakes?”
Siwecki growled. “Who are you, mister?” And he stood up, his face contorted with anger, his big hands closing and opening.
“I’ve told you, Mr. Siwecki. I’m from Washington. Please sit down.”
Siwecki clenched a massive fist and held it aggressively. Nolan didn’t move.
“Mr. Siwecki, it looks to me as if you are likely to be charged with a number of serious offences. I suggest you don’t make things worse for yourself.”
“I told you. I told you they’d bring us to trouble.”
Neither of them had noticed the woman come into the room and her voice surprised them both. Siwecki turned aggressively towards her. He spoke angrily in Polish, and the woman spat back at him, her eyes flashing. She slammed the door as she went. Siwecki turned back to look at Nolan.
“What is it you want, mister?”
“Who paid you to fix the strike?”
Siwecki’s face looked as it must have looked a hundred times as he negotiated with some recalcitrant employer.
“Who are you from, mister?”
“I told you. I’m from Washington.”
“Is many people in Washington. Who are you?”
“My name is Nolan, Mr. Siwecki. I already told you. I am investigating the strike at Haig Electronics. You were the union negotiator.”
“So what is that you investigate. It happened. It is finished years ago.”
“I believe that it is possible that the strike was contrived in order to influence the election of a State Governor. And as you know, Mr. Siwecki, that is a very serious offence. If you were a party to this you could be charged on many counts, including the 1925 Corrupt Practises Act.”
Siwecki looked at Nolan’s face speculatively. Then he said in a whisper, “How you know about this thing?”
“It’s my job, Mr. Siwecki. I’m an investigator.”
“So you ask I give you information to incriminate myself ?”
“If you testified, Mr. Siwecki, you would be protected.”
“And if I not tell you?”
“Then sooner or later you’ll go to jail, Mr. Siwecki, if you are guilty.”
Siwecki looked at him, as if he might read some solution in Nolan’s face.
“Maybe they kill you first, Mr. Nolan.”
“Who might do that?”
The dark eyes looked at him shrewdly. “If you know these things then you know which peoples I mean.”
“You’d better tell me, Mr. Siwecki. If any more crimes were committed in connection with this business you would be an accessory to those crimes, too.”
The old man put his head in his hands, rocking from side to side, moaning softly. Nolan knew that Siwecki was really frightened now.
“I will arrange for you and your family to be protected, Mr. Siwecki.”
The old man look
ed up at him. “You want a name, or what?”
“Who gave you the orders?”
“Andy Dempsey.”
“And who paid you?”
“He did.”
“How much?”
“Twenty grand for the union, and five for me.”
“Did he say why it had to be done?”
Siwecki looked at him with a twisted smile. “They didn’t need to tell me, comrade. It was put up for Powell.”
“D’you think Powell knew?”
“I don’t think he did at the beginning. He didn’t talk like he did. But in the end I think he knew, but he didn’t say anything.”
“Was Dempsey the top man?”
Siwecki looked towards the door as if he feared another intrusion. Then he looked back at Nolan.
“Are you FBI?”
“No. D’you want to talk?”
“Not to a mystery man.”
Nolan pulled out his CIA ID card and showed it to Siwecki who leaned forward and read it carefully, scrutinizing the words and the photograph. He looked up at Nolan.
“Can you give me a deal if I tell you more?”
“Are you a Party member, Siwecki?”
“Yeah.”
“Is Dempsey?”
“Yeah.”
“Oakes?”
“No, but they got something on him. He fixes things they want, for money.”
“Will you testify to this?”
“Jesus. They’d kill me.”
“You’ll get protection from the FBI and my people.”
“Mister. They got people everywhere. I’d wanna go somewhere else outside this country.”
“We’ll see what we can do, but you’ll testify, yes?”
“OK.”
“Will you swear a deposition tonight?”
Siwecki shrugged. “If you want.”
Nolan walked into the hallway and opened the telephone directory to look up Gary Baker’s number. With his finger against Baker’s name he dialled. There was no answer. He hesitated and then checked the number against Angelo M. He dialled and a soft voice answered immediately.
“Yes.”
“Are you alone, Maria?”
“Sure I’m alone.”
“It’s Nolan. I’m trying to contact Gary urgently. There’s no answer from his home number. Have you any idea where he’ll be?”
There was silence at the other end. Then she said, “He could be at the office but he wouldn’t answer the phone.”
“Thanks, Maria. See you.”