The Timid Traitor (A Nick Williams Mystery Book 10)

by Frank W. Butterfield

  "How'd they know that?" asked Carter.

  Looking through a stack of telegrams, Robinson found one, glanced at it, and said, "It was in her file." He paged through a larger stack of papers. Pulling out a sheet, he read over it. He sighed. "When her visa was approved in '44, things were very chaotic around here. She had a sponsor, and so they didn't do much of an investigation."

  I offered, "Mr. Veladier at City of Paris."

  He nodded. "Yes. He sponsored a number of post-liberation refugees."

  "Do you think he knew about her collaboration?" asked Carter.

  "I don't think so. A later investigation uncovered her role in Action française and that is in her Bureau file. That's why she was never deported. Her file was referred to the State Department in 1950. They declined to take any action because she was shown to not be a communist."

  I took a drink of my coffee and asked, "Are we helping you here?" He was telling us more than he was asking us.

  Robinson looked up like a deer caught in the headlights. "Yes." Looking around the library as if someone might be watching or listening, he whispered, "I'm about to be fired."

  I sat back. Carter squeezed my hand. I looked up at him. He winked at me.

  Taking a deep breath, I asked, "What kind of work have you been doing since you were assigned here?"

  Looking from me to Carter and back, he said, "Consular things like helping out American tourists when they've broken the law. And other things." He was starting to sweat.

  Carter asked, "Investigating?"

  He nodded. "It's mostly been—"

  I held up my hand. "Don't."

  He smiled weakly.

  "Would you like to come work for us?" I asked.

  He nodded. Taking out a handkerchief, he began to dab his forehead. "Please."

  I asked, "You do understand that almost everyone who works for me is in the life, right?"

  He smiled slightly. "Antoine."

  "Who?" asked Carter.

  I replied, "His boyfriend." I could smell love even in a damp and drafty old room like that one.

  "Where do you live back home?" asked Carter.

  Robinson shook his head. "Nowhere. My parents live in Richmond, and they've disowned me. The only real friend I have from the old days is Bobby."

  "Kennedy?" I asked.

  He nodded.

  Carter said, "Does he know?"

  "Yes. That's why he suggested I talk to you."

  I said, "But I thought he hated queers."

  Robinson shook his head vehemently. "If you mean Roy Cohn, then yes. I despise the man, too, and all that he's ever done. Now that McCarthy has been censured and Cohn's gone back to New York, I hope he slinks away into the dark and never comes back." He cleared his throat. "But, like I said, Bobby's a very loyal friend."

  I nodded. "What's your next move?"

  Licking his lips, Robinson replied in a whisper, "I'm planning on taking as much home tonight as I can fit in a briefcase. There are some things I want you to know about. I don't know if they'll be useful."

  I shook my head. "Don't."

  He sat back. "Why?"

  "Make a clean break. Read everything. Commit it to memory. But don't break the law. There's no need to."

  He sighed with palpable relief. "Thank you, Mr. Williams. I'll take your advice."

  I smiled and said, "It's Nick. And this is Carter."

  "I'm Jake."

  I nodded. "Well, Jake. Is there anything else you want us to know?"

  "The main thing is that there are three rogue agents in San Francisco and two in Los Angeles. You have the names of the three and I can tell you who the two in L.A. are."

  Carter asked, "Do you know if those were the ones who followed us to Mexico City?"

  Jake frowned. He paged through his stack of telegrams. Finally, he looked up and said, "No. Those agents were stationed in Mexico City and were dispatched by the San Francisco office. I heard that it caused quite a stir because they all flew to Miami and were angry when you went to The Bahamas instead."

  "Angry at us?"

  "No. They'd been told that you had no idea you were being tailed."

  I laughed. "It's those damn shoes. Gives 'em away every time."

  Jake laughed for the first time since we'd met him.

  "When are you going to quit?" asked Carter.

  "I'm planning on doing that tomorrow."

  "Then what?" asked Carter. I could tell he was concerned about where the kid would land which made me feel nice and warm all over.

  "I really don't know." Jake gave both of us a searching look.

  I asked, "What do you wanna do?"

  He sighed. "I want to stay here and live the rest of my life with Antoine."

  "How long have you been together?"

  "About a year."

  I smiled. "When'd you meet?"

  Jake smiled. As he did, I could see how attractive he was when he wasn't playing lawyer. "At a restaurant on the Left Bank. It was really love at first sight."

  Carter squeezed my hand again.

  I asked, "You're sure we're not under surveillance?"

  He nodded. "Not by the Bureau, at least."

  Carter asked, "Who else?"

  "C.I.A." He shook his head. "But, from what I hear, they're not interested in you because you're not subject to blackmail."

  "How so?" I asked.

  He looked at our hands and said, "You're not hiding anything." A tear began to run down his cheek. "It's the most astonishing thing I've ever seen."

  . . .

  "You knew he was in the life all along?" I asked as we walked along.

  "Yup. He just about fainted when he saw me."

  I laughed. "You have that effect on everyone."

  "So, what are you gonna do with a lawyer?"

  "I dunno. Sounds like he's done some other things. I figure I'll hand him over to Mike. And if Mike doesn't want him, Kenneth might."

  We stopped at the curb to wait to cross a busy boulevard. Looking down at me, Carter asked, "How are you feeling, Boss?"

  "About yesterday?"

  He nodded.

  "Better. Meeting Jake made me remember that this is the city of love."

  Carter put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed it. "Yeah. He's a good kid."

  I nodded. "So, how about we take him and that Antoine to dinner tonight? I wanna meet this boyfriend of his."

  Carter laughed. "Sure thing, Boss. What about Sam?"

  "Of course. I think he was disappointed last night after he put all that together."

  "And paid for it."

  "He did?" I had been so upset that I hadn't noticed. That hit hard.

  "Yeah. So, I suggest we go back up there. I'm sure Jake and Antoine won't say no."

  . . .

  In the end, the five of us went to a small restaurant that Jake suggested. He wanted us to experience the real Paris. It was on the Left Bank. I never caught the name.

  Once the cab dropped the three of us off, Jake walked up to the curb and shook our hands. I introduced Sam and saw Jake's eyes light up.

  Looking around, I asked, "Is your guy here?"

  Jake nodded. "He went to buy some cigarettes. He'll be back in a minute. This is where we met, by the way."

  I smiled as Carter put his hand on my shoulder. Right then, two men walked past us, arm in arm, and entered the restaurant. Following their example, Carter put his arm around my shoulder and pulled me in close. Jake and Sam both smiled.

  I said, "I've always meant to ask you, Sam. Have you ever been to Paris before now?"

  "No."

  Carter laughed. "You'd never know it. You seem to know everyone."

  Sam smiled with a shrug.

  I said, "And that's why he's the best."

  "He sure the hell is," added Carter.

  Even in the dim light, I could see Sam blush.

  "Jacob?" asked a deep voice in the dark.

  Carter chuckled as a muscular man emerged from the shadow with a lit cig
arette hanging out of his mouth. He was Carter's height and not as filled out but close. He had wavy black hair and, from what I could see, intense black eyes.

  Sam drew in his breath and whispered something in French. Or that's what it sounded like.

  The man stood behind Jake, put his thick hands on the kid's shoulders, and surveyed the rest of us.

  Jake put his left hand on the man's right. "Nick Williams, this is Antoine Descombes." The man stepped around to Jake's side and extended his hand.

  I shook. "Good to meet you, Antoine. This is my husband, Carter Jones, and our friend Sam Halversen."

  Once everyone had shaken hands, and Sam had made some sort of joke in French, Antoine looked down at me with a frown. "Husband?" he asked.

  I nodded. "Yeah."

  He shrugged and looked down at Jake. "Husband?"

  Jake smiled. "Show me the ring, and I'll show you the husband."

  We all laughed and headed into the restaurant.

  . . .

  After dinner, we walked through the small streets of the Latin Quarter. Sam told me that was the name of the neighborhood. After half an hour, we came to a pedestrian bridge. Antoine led us down a set of stone stairs to the right. The stairs ended at a cobblestone walkway that ran along the river's edge. There were several boats tied up under the bridge. Some were occupied with couples making love to each other. Some were empty.

  Antoine led us away from the bridge along the cobblestones until we were about a hundred feet from the bridge. The only lights were the ones on the far side of the river.

  In the dark, I could hear some voices whispering nearby. Looking to my right, I saw that Antoine and Jake were sitting on the edge of a kind of rock shelf and were already necking. Carter sat down, pulled me into his arms, and we followed suit.

  After about five minutes, Carter pulled back with a chuckle. He whispered, "Turn around, Nick."

  I did and saw a man offering Sam a light. In the heat of the moment, I'd forgotten about Sam. I watched as the two men conversed in French. After a moment, the two of them linked arms and walked into the dark and away from the bridge.

  Carter put his arms around me and pulled me in close. He bit my ear and whispered, "Love is in the air,"

  As he kissed my neck, I had to agree. It definitely was.

  Epilogue

  Offices of Consolidated Security, Inc.

  600 Market Street, 19th Floor

  San Francisco, Cal.

  Tuesday, February 3, 1955

  Just past 10

  Mike walked into my office and sat down in one of the chairs across from my desk. I pointed to the cherrywood box on my desk. "Those are for you. From Nacho."

  He leaned forward, opened the box, and smiled. He pulled out a cigar, ran it under his nose, and then examined it. Grinning, he asked, "You sure I can't smoke this here?"

  I shrugged. "You'll have to bring it up with the management company. I've been here all of an hour. I don't even know how to work the phone." I pointed to a shiny new telephone with a number of buttons on it.

  Mike smirked, put the cigar back in the box, and put his big shoes up on the end of my desk. "You'll get the hang of it."

  I stood up, walked around, and knocked his big clunkers off my desk. I tilted my head towards the sitting area and said, "Come on."

  He stood up and followed me over. He stretched out on the sofa. Putting his hands behind his head, he said, "This is the life. Up here in the clouds. Boy, howdy." I walked over to the credenza and began to peel away the red sealing wax from the bottle of whiskey my father had left for me a couple of weeks earlier.

  Under the wax, I discovered that the bottle was corked. "Marnie!"

  After a moment, she poked her head around the door. "Yeah, Nick?"

  "You got a corkscrew for this?"

  She smiled, walked over to where I was standing, and pulled open a drawer I hadn't noticed. "Here you go."

  Inside was a variety of bar tools. Using the corkscrew, I opened the whiskey and poured a finger in both glasses while she and Mike both watched.

  I handed the first one to Marnie. "You be the first."

  She took the glass and swirled the amber liquid around for moment. She lifted the glass and drank the whole shot at once. Her eyes widened and she said, "That's smooth."

  Mike laughed, stood, and walked over. "I had no idea you drank whiskey, Marnie."

  She nodded. "Sure I do. Usually not in the morning, of course."

  Mike took the other glass while I poured a shot for myself in the one Marnie had used. "Of course," he said right before he knocked back his glass. His eyes widened a bit. He nodded. "That is smooth."

  I swirled the whiskey in my glass and then took a sniff. I had no idea what it should smell like but I liked it. I lifted the glass to the two of them and drank the shot all at once. The liquid burned a little at the back of my throat but it was smooth. Before I was tempted to have another, I put the cork back in the bottle and said, "I guess we need more glasses."

  Marnie knelt down and opened a side door on the credenza revealing several glasses of various sizes. "That Robert set all this up." She stood up, smoothed out her skirt, and said, "Don't forget, Nick, about the lunch appointment with the parents today at the Old Poodle Dog at half past noon."

  I nodded. "Thanks, doll. Will you be there?"

  "Yep. Alex is meeting us."

  "What about Carter?" I had no idea where he was. I didn't even know where his office was located.

  "He said he'll be back from San Mateo in time. He'll meet us there."

  I nodded and smiled. "Thanks, doll."

  "You're welcome, Nick." With that, she turned and left the office, closing the door behind her.

  Mike put his hand on my shoulder and said, "How are you?"

  "Happy to be home."

  He pulled me in for a hug and held me there for a long moment. He leaned down and kissed me on the forehead. "I'm glad you're back."

  "Me, too."

  He released me and walked back over to the sofa. He sat down, stretched his arms over the back, and said, "You were right about something off with those guys from L.A."

  "What?"

  "I sent Walter to Las Vegas and he dug deep. Found out all sorts of stuff. He ended up staying a couple of days, in face. I've made Reynolds one of our paid informants and will meet with him when I go down to L.A. later this week to set up the new office. I gave Walter a couple grand to give them."

  I nodded. "You wanna hire Reynolds?"

  "Nope. He and that Markinson are gonna keep making those movies, from what Walter said. They'll get busted again. And this time I doubt they'll get a cozy little setup like they did. But, I did confirm with Walter that the two names you got in Paris were the same ones they were dealing with in L.A."

  I crossed my arms. "What does Andy say about all this?"

  "He knows one of the guys here and both of 'em down there. I told him about the movie and he confirms that's probably what they were after. Meanwhile, I had him huddle with Walter to compare notes about who's who."

  "Good."

  Mike tilted his head to the side. "Tell me about this Jacob Robinson."

  I walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows and looked down at Market Street below. The streetcars and automobiles were jammed up. The sidewalks were crawling with people going about their business. The sun was out and the sky was blue. It was good to be home.

  "He quit the Justice Department before they could fire him. He's got a lot of dope on the rogue Bureau agents who've been after us. He's a lawyer. His boyfriend's name is Antoine. And they're a cute couple together."

  Mike laughed. "As always, you have the pertinent details."

  I nodded and turned around. "He also did some sort of investigating he didn't want to tell us about. What do you think about opening a Paris office?"

  Mike ran his left hand over his face and sighed. "I don't know. Before we talk about that, I wanted to let you know I need to get a couple of managers set up.
Three, in fact."

  I walked over to one of the chairs next to the sofa and sat down. They were low-slung affairs, like the sofa. "That's fine. Who are the three managers?"

  "Carter to manage arson investigations."

  I nodded.

  "Dawson to manage the agents." Dawson Runson was a former homicide investigator from Washington, D.C. He was also living with Andy Anderson.

  "Would Andy be working for him?"

  Mike shook his head. "I'm gonna put him under you, alongside Greg." Since Greg Holland was Mike's squeeze, he technically worked for me although I hardly ever saw the guy since he was always doing jobs for Mike.

  I nodded. "That's fine. Who's the third?"

  "Walter."

  I frowned. "What's he going to manage?"

  "Intelligence."

  "That seems right. Will he have any employees?"

  "Well, that's what I wanted to ask you about. Any chance in getting Jacob Robinson to move here?"

  I shook my head. "Not likely. He's in love and—"

  "Why not bring the boyfriend over? You could sponsor him."

  I thought for a moment. "That's possible. I've already talked to Kenneth about buying Ike's gym. Looks like the kid is gonna do time. There's just no way around it. They have the goods on him."

  Mike nodded. "I'm sorry to hear that but not surprised."

  "Me, neither."

  "How does that fit in with Jacob and his boyfriend?"

  "I'm sure it will come as no surprise to you that Antoine is a bodybuilder. About as tall as Carter but leaner."

  Mike shook his head. "You're right. I'm not surprised. I didn't know they had bodybuilders in France."

  "They sure as hell do. Sam tracked down one of the older ones. Guy won a gold medal back in 1920. He and Carter spent some time at a gym until Carter ran off."

  "Why?"

  "The guy wanted him to do some sort of fad thing. Carter said he was a little nuts."

  "1920? How old was he?"

  "Somewhere north of 60."

  Mike whistled. "I guess there's hope for the rest of us."

  I nodded. Bringing up Ernest Cadine reminded me of that day and what happened at lunch over by the Moulin Rouge.

  Mike sat up, leaned over, and put his hand on my knee. "Did something happen while you were there?"

  "A lot of things happened." I gave him the short version of the events of that day. As I talked, he patted the cushion to his left. I moved over and let him hold me as I cried a little bit more.