The Ghost

by Henry Kellerman

  And there they both were, Ewald and Eduardo, standing in the street along with the police who, in all the confusion were putting out the fire both from inside the precinct and from the street itself. Before they knew it, fire engines arrived and firemen completed the deed. No more fire but plenty of smoke—a huge cloud of thick black smoke that seemed to be creating a dense atmosphere of gloom.

  With the smoke and confusion, Ewald saw his chance and made a break for it. It was a dumb move because he was shot dead instantly. The police who were guarding him yelled: “Stop him. Stop him.” That’s when everyone started firing. Ewald wound up dead in a hail of bullets.

  Three ambulances arrived from Montefiore Hospital. Six officers were dead, four others seriously wounded, and two others slightly wounded. A pall had come over the scene with some officers sitting with their heads in their hands—some crying over lost friends and partners.

  Stretcher bearers started carrying the dead and wounded officers into the ambulances. It meant that three ambulances usually able to tend to two people each would each now be carrying three. Three of the wounded were transported in police cars.

  . 14 .

  A HAIL OF BULLETS

  Despite all the confusion, the fire didn’t reach the basement. But the basement was filled with choking smoke that permeated everywhere—corridor, rooms, and the cell. It was the first time in New York City’s history that a major assault was made on a police precinct.

  Ewald’s death generated a probe, but in no way could he be identified. He wasn’t burned to a crisp from the fire as one might think. It was just that there was no way to know who he was. He was not noted in anyone’s files—not even an American citizen.

  When word went out to foreign governments, no government claimed him. In questioning, Eduardo stated that Ewald was German but he doubted whether the German government would bother with the case. Eduardo directly identified Ewald as an agent of Nazi organizations still operating in various countries, and he also stated that the current German government was officially anti-Nazi, but he was sure many officials were ideologically still loyal Nazis.

  Eduardo readily conceded that he was in the employ of Juan Peron of Argentina and he and Ewald were connected in the same way that Bishop Alois Hudal of the Vatican and Juan Peron of Argentina were connected. Their objective was to ferry Nazis out of Europe entirely. Again, one could see that Eduardo was determined to invite consideration so that he could garner some possible leniency.

  When Mac and Lyle tried to contact the precinct by intercom there was no answer. No answer at the precinct was alarming so they radioed other cars. They reached Jack and Harry. Jack filled them in.

  “Mac, Lyle, I’m sitting here in the car with Harry. We’re both okay. However, no more big guy, Ewald. Killed in a hail of bullets trying to escape. The precinct’s in a mess. It was a major assault by two guys. They tried to burn it down. That’s right, they tried to burn the whole precinct down. Like I said, one of the two, the big guy is dead, the other’s in custody. They came in throwing kerosene cans, and torches and machine-gunned everything and everyone in sight. Sorry to say, Mike, Sy, and Teddy, dead. So are Jerry, Mikey, and Sonny. Awful. Chico’s seriously wounded. Fremont, and Augusto sustained minor wounds. Others are wounded also but not seriously. They’ve been taken to Montefiore. Fire Department put it out.

  “The good news is that Ewald is gone. With all that lead in him he probably weighs twice what he used to. Eduardo’s still in custody and spilling his guts non-stop. He’s a font of information and he’s obviously bargaining for some leniency. And don’t worry, he’s very smart so even if there were no guards watching him and the cell door happened to be wide open, he still wouldn’t have left. He swears he had nothing to do with Willy going off the ledge. He claims Ewald did it.

  “The truth of it is that you can tell he’s telling the truth. Like I said, he’s the smart one. During all the commotion, he was holding his arms in the air in the position of complete surrender. Yeah, the big guy took off, but Eduardo didn’t move a muscle.”

  “Yeah, we felt that way too,” Mac answered. “Eduardo’s the smart one. We’re sure it was the other big guy who pushed Willy. But man, we’re depressed that we didn’t get a chance at that target practice. Lemme tell ya. Thinking of Mike, Sy, Teddy, and all the rest, especially Chico—unbelievable. Will Chico make it? How serious is he? Sounds to me they were trying to kill everybody!”

  “Chico’s situation is touch and go. He got it in the stomach. Was bleeding something awful. We didn’t get to see him but we heard it from a few guys like in vivid detail—which to tell you the truth, we didn’t need to hear and neither do you.”

  “Okay, Jack, here’s the question. The package we had in the property pen—what about it?”

  “The property room is untouched but the place is a mess. Wait a minute, you mean the package that you guys were hepped about?”

  “Yeah, of course. That one. Why, is there something wrong?

  “No, nothing’s wrong but we sent a whole lotta material down to Police Headquarters. They recently sent all the precincts a notice saying that they’ve cleared out more than five-thousand square feet of storage space in their basement to give us all more room in our own pens. So, we sent whatever we had down. Day before the assault on the precinct, everything went. Our pen was stacked to the hilt. Now it’s clear. Everything we sent was catalogued and the cataloguing was supervised by Silverstein.”

  “Okay, Lyle and me, we’re going downtown to get the package. We’ll keep you guys informed. There’s no doubt in my mind that the package is what they wanted to destroy and no one’s life mattered. It wouldn’t have even mattered had there been children there because burning everything down only meant no more package. And that’s all there was to it.

  “It’s obvious. There was no way they could get to the package so they figured burn it all down. It means that the brains behind pushing Willy off the ledge is somehow connected to the plan to burn the precinct down. The question is why and how they determined, or actually had hard information about the package ostensibly being stored in the precinct? How could they know?”

  In the car, Mac and Lyle talked it over. They were certain there couldn’t be a mole at the precinct. Not a chance. There must have been forty or more cops assigned to that precinct and they knew them all. So, they knew there was another explanation as much in deep cover and so hidden that it seemed equivalent to the secret of the Enigma code that the Nazis used for their U-boats during the war.

  Even when it was determined that both of the attackers were foreigners, Mac and Lyle were desperately trying to figure it out; trying to unearth any information on how two foreigners who probably didn’t even know that the Bronx was a borough or even where the Bronx was, could know that the package was stored at some precinct—and more specifically at their precinct in the Bronx.

  In their discussion about how the precinct was targeted and who—a specific person—gave the information about where the precinct was located, that information must have come from either a mole at the precinct—a specific person—which they were sure was not the case, or, Lyle said, “from Ewald or Eduardo.”

  They puzzled about how that could be? Of course, they only had one lead—one informant. They had Eduardo. He would know. And if not him, they had Wenzel—he might know. But Lyle piped in again and made it even more specific.

  “Mac,” Lyle said slowly. “Yeah, Eduardo got it from someone but how did that someone get it? Could it be, like I said, that it actually came from our cooperative guest, Eduardo himself, and not from anyone else?”

  “Okay,” Mac answered. “We’ll ask him about it.?

  Eduardo and Wenzel were now both being held in Police Headquarters down near the courthouse close to Wall Street. They were separated so they couldn’t communicate with one another. But, of course, they could—and probably would—talk to any of the officials who wanted to interview them. In that case, both Mac and Lyle wanted to interv
iew each of those Nazi operatives separately. For no apparent reason, other than getting the chaff finished with, they decided to see Wenzel first. The three of them met in one of the interrogation rooms at central Police Headquarters.

  “Okay Mr. Wenzel, last name please,” Mac said.

  “Last namen ist . . . no, I vanting lawyer.”

  “Well, that’s okay, but you know you’re in a lot of trouble and police personnel have been killed. You will definitely die in the electric chair, or you might consider talking to us and giving us some information and then let’s see if we can erase the possibility of the electric chair.

  “You understand that’s the best we would be able to do for you. The truth is you and your partner killed some of our best friends, so this offer we’re making is done with maximum regret in our hearts because both of us would love to see you burn. Vershtehen?”

  “Ya, Ish vershtehen. Forgetting mit lawyer. I knowing vhat vee doing und I knowing in trial vill making me dead like you saying—in electrical chair. But how I trusting you vill keeping to true vhat you saying mit saving me?”

  “You’ll simply have to trust us—plain and simple. Take it or leave it. Vershtehen?”

  “Ya. Ish vershtehen. Okay, I telling you important informatzi. Dere ist chemical man in New York City, he who ist on payroll of German Nazi organizatzi. Namen ist Dr. Hermann Strauss und he living in 87 Street, Yorkville, numer 345, ground floor apartment numer 1C. Dat is vot I knowing it. Chemicals vee hof from dis man. He calling chemical chlorine triflouride. Vee no using dis chemical. Vee knowing it making danger und vill taking us too into dis fire. So vee changing mind un did torch, kerosene und shooting.

  “I sorry about dine frynds. Mine frynd Karl vant to use dis chemical but I saying no. Dere ist no reason dat I lieing.”

  “I understand you were the one with the machine-gun. Right?”

  Wenzel nodded yes, and then here was a pause with Mac and Lyle just looking at him. Mac broke the silence.

  “Okay, what else can you give us?”

  “Dere is man at State Department. He getting money to doing dese tings for dee Nazi leaders in Germany und also from Vatican.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “I not sure. I hear Karl saying namen Park und oder namen. First namen ist Park but I no knowing famile namen. Dis ist all I knowing dis—tzvie tings: chemical man und namen Park.”

  “Yes,” Mac said. “But you know other things too, like who sent you over here to do what you did? What was the mission? Why try to burn down the police station and specifically why that one in the Bronx?”

  “Karl und me, vee no to getting package because dis voman in Bronx taking package. Vee getting package but inside ist empty. Karl und me, vee vher fail und putting out from leader’s office.”

  “Which leader?”

  “Hudal. Bishop Alois Hudal. He ist leader at Vatican. He hast office at dis Vatican. He hast vay to helping Nazi to escaping. Karl saying package hast namen und platz who ist dese Nazis und vhere ist it day going. Dis is vhat Karl telling me. Karl und me vee deciding to doing dis so to destroying package und den vee going back und being good in this organizati. No more to failing.”

  Mac and Lyle looked at each other and Mac said: “Thought so.”

  They ended the interview with Wenzel and told him they would look in on him at a later time. Then, before they went to interview Eduardo, they contacted the F.B.I. The chemist Dr. Hermann Strauss was now about to be out of business!

  Eduardo was his usual cooperative self. But Mac and Lyle spoke to him in sober tones. It was not good cop, bad cop. It was bad cop, bad cop similar to what Mossad agents did with ‘anonymous.’ That’s all it was. They told Eduardo he would wind up in a maximum security prison living with the most dangerous prisoners he could ever imagine.

  “These are people who hate their lives, but when someone threatens America, that person doing the threatening is in big trouble with them. Keep in mind,” Mac added, “these are all killers, but they are all loyal to America. Understand?”

  “Si. I understand.”

  “I know you were searched when we brought you in,” Mac continued.

  Then Mac stopped talking and thought for a while.

  “Stand up,” Mac told him.

  Eduardo complied and Mac patted him down, checking his pants and shirt, around his waistline and his crotch. Nothing. Then, looking down at the floor and thinking, Mac realized he was looking at Eduardo’s shoes.

  “Take off your shoes,” Mac instructed.

  Eduardo did as he was told.

  Mac handed the shoes to Lyle to examine. Lyle stuck his hand into each shoe all the way to the toe. Nothing. Mac retrieved the shoes and held them. He looked at the heels. Under the pressure of Mac’s hand, the right heel moved a fraction. Sure enough, Mac put extra pressure on it and it slid it open There it was. A mini transmitter.

  Lyle went: “Wow!” as Mac just looked at it minus any emotion. The he looked directly at Eduardo.

  “So, you’ve been entirely cooperative. Right? So, you want consideration. Right? So, Mister, before we finish with you the way we’d like to—who is it that you’ve been connecting with? Don’t hesitate. Just say it!”

  Eduardo didn’t hesitate for a moment.

  “There is State Department man. I think he is assistant. He work for Hudal in Vatican. It is known by Hudal that this man he is interested in getting money for this information. I tell him about package and he tell me he already know about package from man name Karl. This is all I know.”

  Eduardo looked down, then turned to Mac and said:

  “I am sorry I did this thing. But after I did this only that time, I never talk to him again.”

  “C’mon, Eduardo, you’re stalling and you know what I mean.”

  “Parker Martin. Parker Martin. That is his name.”

  That took care of that interview. Martin was immediately picked up after Mac and Lyle called it in to their contact at the FBI. Again, as they had done with respect to the chemist, Strauss, and on the FBI secure phone, they described the issue regarding Martin. The FBI agent, John Wilkins, was serious but he also laughed in a kind of weary, cynical tone:

  “You guys are doing better than we are. Keep it up.”

  Mac also coughed up a laugh. And though his wasn’t cynical he was surely weary. Later, at Precinct 53 in the Bronx which was now a staging place for all the cops at the 48th, Mac and Lyle met with Jack and Harry. Hesitatingly, Jack said:

  “Mac, Lyle, bad news. Chico died. He died. We just got it over the radio. Chico’s gone.”

  “Holy shit,” Lyle said. Mac was quiet, and then a few seconds later he turned to Lyle:

  “Chico died.”

  . 15 .

  PANIC

  After the half day of quizzing both Wenzel and Eduardo in the conference room on the second floor of Police Headquarters, Mac and Lyle decided to check to confirm with their own eyes whether the package had arrived safely at the vast holding pen in the basement. Of course, they knew it was a counterfeit microfilm in the package, but still they wanted to see it sitting there.

  After saying their hellos to some guys at Headquarters that they knew, they headed directly to the elevators and pressed B.

  “Okay,” Mac said, “first we went up and now we’re going down.”

  “What does that mean?” Lyle asked.

  The truth was that Lyle could hear the cynicism or pessimism or whatever the hell it was that was bothering Mac. They’d worked together so many years that each of them could almost read what the other was thinking.

  “Look partner, we’ve been around the world with this one. One minute it’s here, the next minute it’s not. But now Jack said it’s here. Okay, I believe it. But I’ll believe it only when I see it. Jack said the package got here, but despite what he or me or you, or Harry or what anyone said, the final question is: Did the package in fact, get here? We’ll see.”

  They exited the elevator and approached the fenced off pen.
The pen officer, Dave Greening greeted them and asked whether they had a number or any identifying characteristics of what they wanted.

  “No,” Mac said. “It’s a package, an oblong package that was sent by the 48th Bronx.”

  “Yeah, we got that,” Greening said. “Wait a minute, let’s see.”

  With that Greening rifled through his index file and pulled out the stack of cards listing numbers and items delivered from the 48th. He then started flipping the cards since Mac and Lyle didn’t have the catalogue number for the package.

  “We have exactly seventy-five items listed including a rifle, a box of clothing, even a diamond ring, and a lot of other junk. I don’t see anything about an oblong package. Wait, let me go through it again.”

  “Do it by number this time,” Mac said. “Let’s see if there’s a skip somewhere in the numbers.”

  Of course, as might be expected, the cards were not in sequence from one to seventy-five. So, with Greening sitting and Mac and Lyle leaning over him, they started to sequence the cards. At that point they were not reading any of the descriptions of the material typed on the cards. They were just looking at numbers. When they got to sixty-two, they couldn’t find sixty-three, and by the time they finished the rest of the sequence it was clear that sixty-three was missing.

  “I don’t get it,” Greening said. “Either they messed it up at the 48th or it got lost, or it’s here somewhere.”

  “Dave,” Mac said, “no use looking for it, because I can tell you for sure, it’s not here. I don’t even know if it ever got here, and I’m sure they didn’t mess it up at the 48th. Thanks for trying. We’ll see you. By the way, in case I’m wrong and you do find it, call me. Here’s my card. And thanks again.”

  Back into the elevator, going up two flights to street level and driving back uptown, they both were trying to figure it out or at least trying to tease out something of importance about what may have happened. They knew it was no accident. Not with this particular package!