by Joe Barry
“There I’m as much in the dark as you. I’m going on the belief that he entrusted them to Germaine and Germaine decided to keep them for himself.”
“Do you think Brin killed Germaine?”
Jago acted as though it were a new idea to him. He did it a little too well. “Why, of course,” he said. “That must be it. I wonder why it never occurred to me before. He was there at the scene, wasn’t he?”
Rush nodded.
“Brin is a strange character, Henry. He has a wide streak of the fanatic and he has the fanatic’s lack of moral principles when he is crossed. He would consider the murder of someone who cheated him a holy cause. Yes, certainly, Brin fills your bill as a murderer.”
“Yes,” Rush said, “Brin could certainly be made to fill the bill. There is only one thing that bothers me.” He paused for full effect. “Who really has the emeralds?”
The smile on Jago’s face faded and became a caricature of itself. The well-massaged pink of his cheeks became mottled with angry purple. He was the picture of a man about to explode. Fighting for control, he clenched the hands lying on fop of Rush’s desk into fists.
“So she double-crossed me, the little crook! She’s been riding along, trying to figure an angle to get them herself. She’ll never live to sell them.” The cold fury in his voice chilled even Rush who was used to fury.
“If you’re talking about Hope, she didn’t tell me. It was your friend Brin.”
“Brin!” The word was an explosion.
“Yes,” Rush said. “Brin made the same deductions about Germaine’s visit to me that you did. He was more direct in his action. He had me kidnapped and I bluffed the word emerald out of him. I didn’t need much more.”
“No,” Jago said to himself. “Of course. That’s all you’d need.”
“So?” Rush said.
Jago sat entirely still in Rush’s chair and Rush could read the thoughts passing through his mind. Murder was there, and fear. The man sat long, fighting for composure. When he was himself, he raised his eyes from his clenched fists and looked at Rush. “I suppose,” he said, “you want the whole story?”
“Yes,” said Rush, “and I’ll get it, or—”
“Or you’ll go to the police. All right, Mr. Henry. I’ll tell you the whole story of the emeralds of Kol Napur.” He looked at the watch on his wrist. “This is a long story. Have you time?”
“Go right ahead,” Rush said. “I’ll take whatever time is necessary.”
“I presume,” Jago began, “that you are aware of the presence of American troops in India.” Rush nodded. “Due to the nature of modern war, it is necessary to establish landing fields for aircraft at frequent intervals in any territory to be defended. Hence, among the first groups to be sent to India was a battalion of engineers. The particular group of which I speak was sent to an advanced base in the province of Kol Napur. They were under orders to establish an air base there. All went well, till the field was almost completed. The Japanese, it seems, had waited until they were nearing the end of their task before attacking. Then, attack they did, in wave after wave of bombers. They completely demolished the field, the buildings, and dropped what bombs were left on the native city adjoining, which was also the first city of the province.” Jago looked up from the desk where he had kept his eyes. “This next will seem like a tale straight from Kipling, I’m afraid.”
Rush nodded that he understood.
“In this city was a shrine to the local god, and in this shrine was an image of the local deity. The image itself was of gold and its eyes were two tremendous emeralds.” He paused. “I’m telling this badly. I should have slid in the beginning that among the soldiers sent to Kol Napur was a native of Chicago, a boy of good and wealthy family. When the first attack came, he was in the native city walking by the temple. He ran inside for shelter and stood beneath the outstretched arms of the immense statue for better protection. It was both fortunate and unfortunate that he did so. A chance bomb scored a direct hit on the temple, blasting the idol from its foundation and tumbling it over and pinning the soldier beneath it. It caught him full across the chest and one monstrous outstretched hand dug into his abdomen. When he regained consciousness much later he was in agony. He turned his head and founds himself staring into the face of the idol. His hands and arms were free, and to take his mind from his pain he took a penknife from his shirt pocket and dug at the eyes of the idol. Those eyes, Mr. Henry, are the emeralds for which we search today.”
Rush released his breath in a sigh.
“There’s a big gap between a bombed temple in India and a dead man in Chicago, Jago.”
“There is indeed. I’ll bridge that gap for you.”
He reached into a breast pocket and drew out a cigar. Carefully he cut the tip, and as carefully lit it. When he had it burning strongly he exhaled and resumed his story.
“The gods of chance watched over the soldier and his emeralds. Only by the sheerest luck did he manage to keep them as long as he did. He managed to transfer them to his shirt pockets before he again lost consciousness. He was of course rescued from beneath the idol by wrecking crews, cleaning up after the bombing raid. He came to at the field hospital as they took off his shirt, and managed to convince a tired doctor that his shirt shouldn’t be thrown away. How he clung to that shirt through his transfer to a base hospital and thence to a ship and to San Francisco I can’t tell you. I can only marvel with you. The fact remains that he did get to a hospital in San Francisco and when he got there the emeralds were still in his possession.”
Jago took several quick puffs on his cigar, surveying the burning end carefully.
“This soldier was more seriously injured than I have mentioned. The idol’s hand that tore into his abdomen did terrible damage. The doctors were surprised that he clung to life till he reached the mainland. But cling he did, and once there he caused a letter to be written to his closest friend in Chicago, whose name you can guess.”
“Germaine,” said Rush. “Paul Germaine.”
“It’s a weird circle, isn’t it? An idol’s eyes from half a world away making connection with the son of one of Chicago’s oldest families. The gods must have laughed long and loud when they set that circle whirling.”
“I can almost hear them,” Rush said. “But I still don’t place you in the picture. When and how did the gods decide to deal you in?”
“I entered in San Francisco. That has been my home for many years. I hold a position of some influence in certain quarters there.” His voice lingered on the last sentence. Rush took the cue.
“Certain quarters?” he asked.
Jago nodded as though sure that Rush understood. “Let us leave it at that,” he said.
“Okay,” Rush said. “Now, about you.”
“Yes, about me. When the soldier arrived in San Francisco he asked an intern to find him a jeweler to appraise some stones he had brought back from India. The intern selected a man at random and he was fortunate enough to select one who was a great friend of mine. The gods again, you see.”
Rush saw.
“My friend visited the hospital and was amazed at the gems he was asked to appraise. They were worth a fortune. He, of course, inquired as to the history of the emeralds and at once realized that they were not stolen property, that they could, in fact, belong to anyone.” Again his voice accented the last phrase.
“And you felt that could include you?” Rush asked.
Jago ignored the question and continued. “In the course of a casual conversation, my friend told me the story of the emeralds. He also told me that the soldier was living on borrowed time.” Jago stopped and made a gesture with his hands as if to ask Rush what could a man do when an opportunity such as that presented itself.
“So you went after them?” Rush asked.
Jago frowned. “I don’t quite like that way of putting it,” he said.
“Let’s not quibble about words,” Rush said. “Where does Brin come in?”
“
I had had occasion to do business with Brin several times before. This appeared to be a case calling for his peculiar talents.”
Rush became impatient. “Hell, Jago. You went after the stones. You hired or cut in Brin to help you. Let’s talk in words of one syllable. What was Brin to do?”
“All right, Henry. I’ll put it on the line. Brin is an expert at appearing to be something he isn’t. He was to go to the hospital as an emissary of the jeweler. He was to ask to see the emeralds for a further appraisal. We arranged for there to be an explosion in the hall of the hospital to coincide with his examination of the stones. It was to be an explosion made of much noise, much smoke, but to do little actual damage. A screen, as it were, for the departure of Brin with the emeralds.”
“Nice,” said Rush. “A very neat plan.”
“Yes, except that it went astray.”
“Yes?” Rush asked.
“I told you that the soldier had written Germaine. He had told him of the emeralds. Germaine had come to the coast, arriving on the very morning that Brin was to visit the hospital. He volunteered to take the stones back to Chicago and dispose of them there, and his friend gave them to him. He was actually on his way to the train when Brin arrived at the hospital. Everything went according to plan until Brin asked to see the stones and was told that they had been given to a friend for disposal. The smoke bomb exploded prematurely and he was forced to leave in a hurry.”
Jago’s cigar had gone out and he applied another match to the cold stub.
“Brin is an abnormally suspicious person. He scented a double-cross. Especially when the smoke bomb exploded off-schedule. It seemed clear to him that I had already made off with the emeralds and had left him to carry the brunt of suspicion. I tried to convince him otherwise, but it was impossible after he heard the news from the hospital.”
“What news?” Rush asked.
“It seems that the excitement and smoke were too much for the soldier from Chicago. Whether he suffocated from the smoke or died of shock we’ll never know. The fact remains that he did die during the confusion following the explosion.”
“I see,” Rush said. “How did you get on the track of the emeralds?”
“Very simple. I made discreet inquiries at the hospital. I learned that someone had indeed visited the hospital that morning. I learned that the someone was from Chicago, and there I met a blank wall. The soldier had been very secretive about his personal affairs and no one could tell me anything further. There was nothing for me to do but come to Chicago and begin all over again.”
“And Brin?”
“I imagine he made the same inquiries I did and reached the same conclusion.”
“How did you get on to Germaine?”
“A stroke of luck, my boy. I have connections, as I said, on the coast. Through them I got letters of introduction to several jewelers in Chicago. The second call that I made, brought results. At the time I called, Germaine was in the man’s office feeling him out about buying the jewels.” Jago stubbed out his cigar. “I sent Wilmer and Hope to follow him. They picked him up outside the jeweler’s and followed him to a bar. Hope struck up a conversation with him, but couldn’t learn his name. He had also refused to tell the jeweler his name, and the jeweler made an appointment for the following day and asked him to bring the stones for appraisal. He also wanted time to trace the stones. That is, to see if they were stolen. I relieved his mind of that and told him to keep the appointment but not to buy them. I may have given him the impression that Germaine was my errant son, and that I was the actual owner of the emeralds.”
“Quick thinking,” commented Rush. “Is that the whole story?”
“Not quite. The next day he called on the jeweler again and he still didn’t have the stones with him. He must have been afraid to bring them along unless he had a sure sale. He obviously didn’t want them in his possession in public any more than he could help. Wilmer picked him up outside the jeweler’s. He stood there for a time seemingly undecided as to whether he should go back in or not. Then he turned quickly and walked away. Wilmer followed him.”
“Where did he go?” asked Rush, although he was pretty sure he knew.
“To your office. Once Wilmer had him set there, he came immediately to the hotel and reported to me. It was a development that I didn’t like.”
“I can understand that. Then you stuck Hope on me in the chance that I might have the emeralds.” Jago nodded. “Now you have the whole story, Mr. Henry. What do you think of it?”
“Pretty far-fetched. But it rings true. I don’t think you’d go to the trouble of rigging a story like that just to throw me off the track.”
“No, not after you knew of the existence of the emeralds.”
“How do you propose to go about finding them, now that Germaine is dead?”
“That is my second proposition, Henry.”
Rush looked expectant.
“You are in a position to do a great deal to help us in our search, my boy. You have an invaluable contact with Germaine’s family. You can do things without being questioned that I would have to do by force. I don’t like force.”
“Well,” said Rush, “what’s your proposition?”
“I have the facilities for disposing of the emeralds. You have the facilities for finding them. I propose a partnership. If you find them, I will give you twenty-five percent of the sum I realize on them. In addition,” he paused, “in addition, I will help you find the murderer of young Germaine.”
“A very generous offer, Jago. Let’s leave it just that.”
Jago shot him a questioning glance.
“Yes, let’s leave it just an offer. Keep it open. If things break right I may take you up on it.”
Jago thought that through and accepted it. “All right. But, Mr. Henry, what about my original proposition?”
“To keep you in the background? I’m afraid I can’t accept any money from you for that. I may find it necessary to bring you into my investigation in an active capacity. I won’t, however, unless it becomes necessary.”
“I hope it never becomes necessary, my boy. As I said, I very much dislike the use of force.” He let his voice give a threat to the last words.
“Oh, that’s okay,” Rush said. “I’m used to force.”
11
Rush sat long after Jago left, letting his mind digest the story that Jago had told. It was a weird story and, as Jago had said, involved much planning on the part of the gods of chance. Still, the story did hang together and was the only one yet, that explained all the facts that Rush already held. His reverie was interrupted by the buzzing of the inter-office communicator and Gertrude’s voice came into the room.
“Merwin’s on the phone and old man Germaine’s been phoning every half hour.”
“I’ll talk to Merwin, and phone Germaine on the other wire and tell him I’ll be out after lunch.”
“Right. Here’s Merwin.”
“Hello, Merwin,” Rush said.
“Hello, Rush. Hey, I’m still working on what you told me to.”
“Good. What are you getting?”
“I got a couple of leads, Rush. She’s made a play for a part-time job in several places but they fluffed her off.”
“What did you get at Markio’s?”
“Nothing, Rush. He says if you want anything from him you got to come get it personal.”
“Okay, Merwin. I’ll drop in on him.”
“What do I do, Rush?”
“Keep at it, Merwin, and keep it clean.”
“Oh, I’m strictly business, Rush. You know me.”
“Yes, I know you. Keep in touch with me and if you get anything, leave word with Gertrude or Barney and I’ll find you.”
“Okay, Rush.”
Rush hung up and went into the outer office, hat in hand.
“I’m going out for lunch, Gert. And after lunch I’m going to see Germaine. I’ll probably be through there around three and I’ll head for Barney’s. If I get any call
s that sound important tell them where I am. And Gertrude—”
“Yes?”
“After this don’t show clients into my office when I’m not there. I don’t like having my office searched.”
“You mean that fat boy—”
“Yes,” Rush said, and left the office.
He dallied over luncheon, preferring the air-conditioned restaurant to the hot street. It was past one o’clock before he finished his second piece of pie and paid his check. On the street he called a cab and gave the address of the Germaine estate. In the cab he wondered what he was going to say to Germaine. He wondered how much he could safely tell the older man. It had been Rush’s experience that the less you tell a client until you have a final report ready to make, the better off you are. Too often when a client learned what you had gathered in the way of information, he drew false conclusions and insisted on action. In this particular case that would be fatal. Jago was not alone in desiring to avoid publicity for the time being. Until such time as he had his quarry actually in sight, Rush preferred to work in the shadows. The cleanup he left to the police. That was their business. They could have the credit for the arrests, Rush would take whatever cash was available. He hadn’t reached a decision on how far to go in reporting to Germaine when the cab drew up at the pillared entry of the Germaine home. He paid the driver and rang the bell. Horace opened the door for him.
“Mr. Germaine is expecting you, sir,” Horace said.
He led Rush to the dim, cool library and closed the door behind him. Germaine was seated behind the desk. He might never have moved.
“Sit down, Henry,” he said. Rush took the chair opposite the desk. “I had expected to hear from you before this.”
“I don’t quite see—”
“Please, Mr. Germaine, this is very important.”
“Why, it’s really quite tragic. Shortly after he left, after his first visit to the hospital, there was an explosion of some kind in the ward in which his friend was sleeping, and the excitement was too much for the boy. He died without regaining consciousness.”
“Didn’t it seem strange to you that your son returned so abruptly after the death of his friend?”