Seven Silent Men

by Behn, Noel;

  Yates poured himself a cup of black coffee, sipped and thought a moment. “Remember there’s a lead time involved here … the time it will take to flood the tunnel without using a disruptive amount of electricity. The more electricity used, the quicker the flooding. Sam’s timer had arranged for a narrower gate opening, less electrical usage and slower flooding. If Bicki originally wanted the tunnel flooded with enough water to escape on by, let’s say, midnight Saturday, Sam probably programmed the timer to open the gates hours before that, maybe half a day before.

  “Now, on Friday, Bicki comes to nephew Sam and says the plans have changed and that the flooding has to be finished later that same night. Sam wants to know when and explains about the lead time. Bicki tells him to forget about the lead time and timing device. Bicki Hale has to do the thing he’s been trying to avoid, not only tell his nephew what was happening but make him participate as well. Bicki orders Sam to operate the irrigation control by hand, do whatever it takes to get maximum water into those tunnels. In a way, it’s better for Bicki and gang to have Sam regulating the water flow. That gave them more immediate control of flooding … they could speed it up or slow it down.

  “We can be relatively certain the perpetration had to begin as quickly as possible late Friday afternoon, right after the bank’s assistant manager locked up and left. But why did they change? What came up to change their plans so drastically? And to make them do the thing they had feared … risk causing dimouts in the city? It couldn’t have been any worry about the alarm system being fully activated. That wasn’t to happen until Monday morning.

  “There are two explanations, and I’m not happy with either one. The first is that Bicki, the impractical dreamer, had counted on the final leg of the getaway occurring on the Treachery. The gang would escape from under the bank via the flooded tunnels, come out into the Mississippi River the other end of Prairie Port and get right out midstream into the Treachery. The Treachery would take them downriver thirty or forty miles in record time. The gang might have found out, at the last moment, that the Treachery stopped flowing at about one A.M. Saturday. Stopped for over two months. So if they were going to ride the Treachery they couldn’t score the vault Saturday, they had to do it the night before. Had to make the getaway and be on the river before one A.M. Saturday. That’s one possibility,” Yates said dourly.

  “The second is that the gang somehow had learned about the federal reserve shipment of thirty-one million dollars to Mormon State. We can’t assume that it was a conspiracy from the start … that they prepared to rob Mormon State weeks, maybe months, before with full knowledge the federal reserve shipment would be made. That would have meant a person inside the federal reserve at New Orleans sabotaged the incinerator and later made sure the truck carrying the money to Saint Louis broke down. Conspiracy couldn’t have existed on the part of the armored truck company and drivers carrying the load, since they weren’t hired until the last moment, had no way of knowing beforehand that they were to be hired, certainly had no way of knowing where they were to be sent or in what direction. Robbery preparations were well under way long before the truckers entered the scene.

  “It’s conceivable, though, that after the truck got into trouble and the federal reserve made arrangements to drop the load off at Mormon State, the gang did find out. This is a longshot. Except I see from the background report that Cowboy Carlson was still working for Wilkie Jarrel … that he was chauffeuring Jarrel that Friday afternoon. Chauffeured him until four-thirty that afternoon, then took off for the weekend … and never showed up again. Jarrel’s son-in-law is Emile Chandler, president of Mormon State. Once Chandler had been contacted by the federal reserve and asked to house the shipment over the weekend, it would seem plausible Jarrel was told about it. Jarrel might even have been consulted from the beginning, might have been the final arbiter on whether Mormon State should accept the shipment. Maybe some of these conversations occurred by phone … and maybe Carlson overheard enough to get the drift of what was about to happen.

  “It’s equally possible that the gang had no prior knowledge of the federal reserve shipment. That they lucked out … that as they were watching the monitor screens they saw the money being unloaded and couldn’t believe their luck. Saw it just like they saw the early shipment from Brink’s come in. That could have been why they changed plans and began the robbery a day earlier, because they were afraid the shipment might be taken away the next day … no, that couldn’t be it … they had no way of knowing it was a temporary shipment, not from a monitor.

  “Anyway, the decision to score the vault on Friday night was made. But Sam Hammond couldn’t bring himself to go along with it. After a crying jag at home in the arms of his wife, he went to Warbonnet Ridge to see Uncle Bicki and try to get off the hook. Bicki promised him the moon, and when that didn’t work, he threatened him. Maybe some of the others threatened him too. Particularly Mule. Sam ran away and hid, and terrified that Mule or the others might hurt his wife and unborn child, he jumped into the river and drowned.

  “The gang has no way of knowing where Sam is, what he has done. Their concern is that Sam isn’t there to control the water, to undo the automatic timing device. The device was connected and set for the next night. So Mule went up to the tunnel and into the irrigation-control station, changed wires and did everything he could to prepare for flooding. In the process he knocked the timing device out of whack, but not out of commission. Everything done in the cave under the bank works like a dream. They drill and explode right up to the bottom of the vault, then drill and explode right through. They gather the money and get into their boats. Mule pulls out every stop he can to get water into the tunnels, throws on every machine. Short-circuits half of Prairie Port into a blackout. Opens the three gates in the reservoir and sends a flood of eighteen million gallons of water into the tunnels. Knocks hell out of half the Sewerage and Water Department tunnels in the bargain and reactivates the mud volcano, but dumps the robbers and their loot out into the Mississippi … out into the Treachery.

  “The alarm in the bank doesn’t go off until Sunday morning. The flooding knocks out the main cable to the police department’s communication center, and the cable didn’t get fixed until early Sunday morning. By now the timing mechanism Sam had originally built and Mule had forgotten to disconnect is opening and closing, is booby-trapping the tunnels by sending more water into them. Brewmeister goes down into the cave during this time and—”

  A phone call from E. G. Womper interrupted the scenario. The assistant United States magistrate had been reached and was expected soon at the federal building. A public defender was on his way to represent Mule. And the press had already arrived … had found out the FBI was holding a suspect in the Mormon State robbery.

  John Leslie Krueger, assistant United States magistrate for the southern district of Missouri and the first black man to hold that position, met privately with Assistant U.S. Attorney Jules Shapiro and Legal Aid lawyer Andy Pantellis. Shapiro, who represented the United States government’s pending action against Marion Corkel, and Pantellis, Corkel’s appointed legal representative for the time being, had a joint request: that the press be barred from the arraignment about to take place. John Leslie Krueger ruled the press had a perfect right to attend. Shapiro said he could understand but pointed to mitigating circumstances, recounted the violent reaction of Corkel to being arrested and the need to shackle him in his cell. Shapiro said that it was better for all concerned if the shackles remained on when Corkel was brought into the arraignment room. Pantellis concurred with this proposal, told of recently having visited Corkel in the holding cell only to find his new client “violent and out of control and detrimental to the well-being of those about him.” Pantellis complained of not having been alerted by the FBI early enough to get to know his client’s history better, accused the Bureau of technically having held Corkel incommunicado from the time of his apprehension at sundown until approximately 11:30 P.M., but felt it would serve n
o beneficial purpose for his client to be seen in chains by members of the press. Assistant U.S. Attorney Shapiro defended the Bureau by saying Corkel was given every opportunity to contact a legal representative of his own choosing and consistently refused to do so, that it was the FBI that did in fact contact the Legal Aid Society. Shapiro further stated the government found Corkel appearing in chains with members of the press present would be counterproductive to all parties concerned except the press. John Leslie Krueger again denied the petition, pointed out that it was, or soon would be, common knowledge the accused was a suspect in a notorious crime. Shapiro pointed out that the arraignment room was small and had a gallery of only fifteen seats and that fifty media people were already outside waiting to get in, that many more could be expected in coming minutes. Krueger suggested they move to larger quarters. Shapiro answered that might be awkward and near impossible this time of night, proposed that perhaps lots should be drawn among the media people already here to see which two would be allowed entry. Krueger said if the press agreed to a lot drawing, six should be admitted.

  Nancy Applebridge and Chet Chomsky, along with correspondents from CBS, the BBC, the Christian Science Monitor and the San Francisco Chronicle, were the lottery winners … and the first into the small room. Shapiro, Pantellis, Strom Sunstrom, Cub Hennessy, Denis Corticun, Harlon Quinton, Jez Jessup and Billy Yates entered next, took seats in the rows in front of the media people. A clerk entered, followed by Assistant United States Magistrate Krueger.

  Krueger stated that due to uncontrollable and obstructive behavior the accused would be appearing in restraints. Krueger went on record voicing opposition to any man being chained, saying he had bowed to the suggestion of persons more directly concerned with the matter. Krueger motioned to Pantellis. Pantellis went to a side door, opened it, beckoned. Bureaumen E. G. Womper and Ralph Dafney entered sidewise through the narrow door, escorting between them, with shackled wrists and ankles, the shuffling Mule. Attired in his own, recently arrived, baggy clothes, Mule glanced about with abrupt head movements, casing the gathering, squinting at one observer and then another and looking on to the next. He almost docilely took his seat beside Pantellis at a small table.

  Krueger explained that the federal government had sworn out a warrant against one Marion Corkel of 15 Prairieflat Road, Prairie Port, Missouri, on the charge of conspiracy-to-commit-bank-theft against the Mormon State National Bank on or about the weekend of August 20 and 21, 1971. Krueger said that the accused before him was alleged to be the same Marion Corkel cited in the warrant.

  Krueger now addressed Mule directly, introduced himself as the assistant United States magistrate who must judge whether Mule was, in fact, Marion Corkel. That was all this arraignment was about, Krueger said, to determine if the right man was being charged and, if so, to establish bail. Only that. This was not a trial, just a brief arraignment as prescribed by law for the assessment of identity and bail. Mule was told he had the constitutional right to remain silent throughout the proceedings, had the right to counsel of his own choice. Krueger inquired if Mule understood all he had said.

  Mule farted, resoundingly.

  Krueger asked if Mule wished to change the counsel representing him, provided by the Legal Aid Society, for counsel of his own choosing.

  Mule lifted a shackled leg, but no wind would pass.

  Krueger announced that the proceedings would begin. The clerk asked that the representatives of the government and the accused identify themselves for the record. Andy Pantellis said he was Andrew D. Pantellis, Legal Aid Society. Assistant U.S. Attorney Jules Shapiro said: “For the Government, Jules Shapiro.”

  Mule stood up shouting, “I’m Shithole Ike for them what wish to dump.”

  The clerk urged Mule to sit down. He even said please.

  “When I get ready, all right,” Mule shot back. “You people make me wait this long, I’m gonna make you wait longer. I’m Shithole Ike, tenant in every bunghouse south of the Platte. Seatlicker Ike, United States Latrine Corps—”

  Pantellis rose and requested of Krueger that rather than establish bail at this time he remand Mule to University Hospital for observation. That perhaps Mule had mental problems.

  “Mister Corkel, and I assume you are Mister Corkel?” Krueger said.

  Mule sneered and nodded.

  “Do you have a psychiatric history?”

  “Surest thing,” Mule shouted. “I come out of a crazy pussy, and I’m gonna die in a crazy grave next to Hitler sucking Kate Smith’s tits while I fuck George Washington. Because I hate you and everything you stand for, you white cocksucker.”

  “White!” Krueger said.

  “White-livered! White-bellied! Chicken white! You take a man and beat him, what do you expect him to do? Fight back, right?”

  “That’s not a very effective way, fighting,” Krueger told him.

  “I’m gonna fight this case all the way to the Supreme Court.”

  “Fine,” Krueger said. “Please sit down.”

  “I don’t care if you send me to the moon in a balloon.” Mule continued to stand and rant. “I’m a man and you’re a man. I did what I did, which ain’t what you say I did. You got the money. You got the gun. What the fuck do you want from my goddam life?”

  Krueger said, “I don’t want anything other than that you sit down.”

  “Well, God bless Missouri and all that goes with it. Send me wherever the fuck you want to send me with all the homosexuals and cocks. I’ll suck your dick if you let me, goddam it. I got twenty-one cents and you got millions. Tell Nixon to kiss my ass, and Pat too—”

  “Will you please sit down.”

  Mule, to the tune of “God Bless America,” began singing, “God bless Missouri, land that I love …”

  “Shut that man up,” Krueger demanded.

  Mule jumped up and down singing the same “God bless Missouri” line.

  “A six-twenty is ordered,” Krueger called, citing the number for mental observation. Mule sang louder. Krueger shouted above him. “A six-twenty is ordered, and get him out of here.”

  E. G. Womper rushed forward. Harlon Quinton beat a fast retreat out the nearest door. What attracted Yates’s attention was not the antic Mule but the reactions of his fellow FBI men. All, like Yates, were on their feet. Ralph Dafney, who was running to assist Womper, looked delighted with the challenge. Cub seemed ashamed and depressed. Strom appeared skeptical. Corticun calmly nodded to himself. Jez Jessup had no interest in anything but Yates … was watching Billy watch the others.

  Waiting at the FBI’s twelfth-floor cafeteria-lounge forty minutes later, in anticipation of a promised official statement, Chet Chomsky related for his lolling press brethren what had followed at the arraignment. “These two FBI men grab him. They’re big men. Muscles. Corkel is trying to salute while he’s singing. While he’s being lifted up. The handcuffs make this difficult. Corkel had to bring both hands up to his face. But he does, and the FBI men, four of them by now, carry him out. Run him out. He’s laying sideways and saluting and singing ‘God bless Missouri’ at the top of his lungs. They go on running with him along the corridor and down the steps and out on the street that way. We’re running after them. They jump into a car and lose all of us except Nancy. Nancy had a cab waiting and she followed them right to University Hospital. They run Corkel in, standing up this time but still singing. Nancy, oh, our lovely Nancy, she gets right into the hospital and past the security guards in the mental wing. Borrows a nurse’s outfit and tray. What does she see? The FBI is handing Corkel over to a doctor, signing a release form for him. Corkel is singing and watching. Once that form’s signed, Corkel’s the property of the county for twenty days. When it’s signed, guess what Corkel does? He stops singing and thanks the FBI for riding him over. He’s calm as can be. It was an act. The arraignment thing was an act. Corkel hustled the assistant U.S. magistrate into a twenty-day vacation on the county. Into delaying everything by twenty days. By the bye, he’s one pretty funny ma
n, this Marion Corkel. His nickname is Mule Fucker. You should hear the stories about him …”

  Denis Corticun, at a 3 A.M. briefing, brought the press up to date on Marion Corkel, stated that Corkel was indeed a prime suspect in the Mormon State robbery and, at the suggestion of the assistant U.S. magistrate’s office, had been placed under observation. Corticun said two other men believed to be members of the robbery gang would soon be in federal custody but refused to give any further information. He left the room brusquely.

  Moans, arduous and painful, rose from the back seat as the car sped off the highway and into a cyprus-lined roadside rest area. Les Kebbon hurried from the driver’s door, went to a pay phone, called the eleventh-floor residency office in Prairie Port collect and when the charges were accepted demanded to speak with Strom.

  “You pick up Ragotsy?” Strom asked once he got on the other end.

  “What’s left of him,” Les Kebbon answered. “That sheriff or whoever he is, that O. D. Don Pensler, is straight out of Auschwitz. He butchered Ragotsy like you don’t want to see. Spent the works. Held him underwater. Hung him by the heels and used electric cattle prods on him. Everything and more. Strom, we can’t let anyone see Ragotsy. He’s chopped meat, and the Bureau will get blamed, I know it. We gotta get this guy to the first hospital and out of sight and hope he lives. Has that fucking Corticun told the world we’ve picked him up?”

  Strom answered, “Not by name, I don’t believe. He had a press meeting a half hour ago and only said there were two more suspects besides Mule.”