Rita. Not only for business, but just to visit.'
In the car, Rita looked at him with a mocking smile. 'You certainly didn't miss the daughter,' she said.
'I noticed her,' David admitted. 'But she's not his daughter; she's his wife.'
'You're kidding!'
'Scout's honor. That's what life is all about- entertainment. Am I right?'
On the drive back to the town house, he explained to Rita what the first part of her new job would entail. She would drive up to Boca Raton and, at the Crescent Bank on Glades Road, open an interest-bearing checking account under the name of Gloria Ramirez, depositing the minimum required.
'The bank officer to see is Mike Mulligan,' Rathbone told her. 'Give him a phony home address in Boca and say you work at the Boca Mall. Jimmy Bart-lett has this Mulligan on the pad, and he'll be tipped off to approve your application without investigating your references. Got it?'
'Sure,' Rita said. 'See Mike Mulligan at the Crescent Bank on Glades Road in Boca and open a checking account in the name of Gloria Ramirez. That's all?'
'For now.'
'I don't suppose you want to tell me what this is all about?'
'You're right; I don't. But it's for your own protection. If the deal turns sour, you can always claim you know nothing about it and were just doing a favor for a friend.'
'Uh-huh. Why do I have a feeling you're playing me for a patsy?'
'I'd never do that,' David said. 'If I thought there was any real risk, I'd never ask you to do it. I want you around for a long time. And now I'm going to drop you at the town house and switch to the Bentley. I have a lunch date with a potential client.'
'He or she?'
'He. A retired professor who I hear has more bucks than brains.'
'David, how do you find these mooches?'
'I have steerers all over south Florida. Sometimes Jimmy Bartlett hears of a good prospect through his bank contacts. Sometimes Ellen St. Martin gives me the name of someone who's just moved down here and is looking to spend big money on a house or condo. If I land the fish, I always pay a finder's fee. What are you going to do this afternoon?'
'I don't know. Maybe I'll go down to the beach for a few hours.'
'I wish you wouldn't,' he said. 'There are a lot of sleazes cruising the beach looking to score off a single woman.'
'David! You're worried about me! Don't give it a second thought, honey; I can take care of myself.'
'Just carry your gun-all right?'
'Okay, I'll carry my gun, and I won't talk to beach bums. I'll even wear a one-piece suit. Satisfied?'
'With your body it doesn't matter if you wear a bikini or a raincoat; you're still going to attract attention.'
'David, do you think I have a better body than Gevalt's wife?'
'You make her look like a boy.'
'Flattery will get you everywhere. Hurry back from your lunch and we'll have us a matinee.'
'Yes,' he said, 'I'd love that.'
After Rathbone took off in the Bentley, Rita went into the kitchen and had lunch with Blanche and Theodore. They all shared a big shrimp salad and drank beer. Theodore told her how David landed Birdie Winslow as a client by staging a fake cocktail party with the Palace Lounge crowd masquerading as richniks. Everyone had a good laugh.
Rita put on a white maillot and used one of David's shirts as a coverup. She took her beach bag and told Blanche she'd be back in an hour or so. She walked eastward, crossing A1A. But she didn't join the crowd heading for the beach. She went into a hotel lobby, bought a pack of cigarettes and asked for two dollars' worth of quarters.
She found a public phone and called her special number. Tony Harker answered and had her wait a moment until he connected a tape recorder to his phone. Then she started talking.
11
Crockett gave the new man the orientation lecture on the need and purpose of the supra-agency. Henry Ull- man, borrowed from the Treasury Department, listened politely, his meaty features revealing nothing. Then, when Crockett finished, he said, 'Why me?'
'Because,' the chief said, 'the personnel computer spit you out. You did time with the Federal Home Loan Bank Board, didn't you?'
'That's right. Six years as examiner. Working out of San Francisco. But I got tired of crunching numbers and wangled a transfer to the Secret Service.'
'Counterfeiting?'
'No,' Ullman said with a sour grin, 'jogging. I was assigned to the Vice President, and that guy never stops jogging. Rain, sleet, snow-he's out there at seven every morning, with me puffing along behind him.'
Crockett stared at him. 'You look like you could keep up. Ever play any football?'
'Nah. I was big enough but not fast enough. I'll be reporting to you?'
'Not directly. Your immediate supervisor will be Anthony Harker. He's right down the hall. You better check in with him now; he's expecting you. Good luck.' 'Sure,' Ullman said, hauling his bulk off the little folding chair.
In Harker's office the two agents introduced themselves and shook hands. Tony looked up at the Treasury man.
'About six-four and two-fifty?' he guessed.
'More or less,' Ullman said. 'I call you Mr. Harker?'
'Tony will do.'
'Hank for me. What's this all about?'
Harker took several clipped pages from his top desk drawer and handed them over. 'Take a look at this. It's a transcript of a taped telephone conversation called in by an undercover agent, a woman, we planted with the main villain, a guy named David Rathbone.'
Ullman scanned the pages swiftly, then tossed them onto the desktop.
'You read it?' Tony said, amazed.
'Yeah. I took a speed-reading course. It's a big help. You want me to get the poop on this David Rathbone?'
'No, he's covered. Your target is James Bartlett, a man who seems to know a lot about banks. I want a complete rundown.'
'Shouldn't be too difficult. I still have some good contacts in the bank biz. Do I get an office?'
'Afraid not. We're cramped for space as it is. You'll have to settle for a desk and phone in the bullpen.'
'I'll manage,' the investigator said.
The first thing Henry Ullman did was to go shopping for clothes. He had come down from D.C. wearing a three-piece, navy blue, pin-striped suit, and he saw at once it might attract a lot of unwanted attention in south Florida. So he bought four knitted polo shirts in pink, lavender, kelly green, and fire-engine red; two pairs of jeans, khaki and black; and a polyester sports jacket in a hellish plaid.
He went back to his motel room to change and inspected himself in a full-length mirror. 'Jesus!' he said. Then he went back to the office and started making phone calls. He worked until almost midnight, then found a steakhouse on the Waterway and treated himself to a twenty-four-ounce rare sirloin, baked potato, double portion of fried onion rings, and two bottles of Molson ale.
On the second day he looked up James Bartlett in the Pompano Beach phone directory. None listed. But there was one in the Fort Lauderdale directory and Ull-man hoped that was his pigeon. To make sure, he changed back into his vested pinstripe and drove out to Bay view Drive in his rented Plymouth.
He whistled when he saw the homes in that neighborhood: big, sprawling places with a lot of lawn, palm
