He took a long glassine envelope from an attache case and held it up for Harker to inspect. It appeared to be filled with greenish-blue confetti.
'What the hell is that?' Tony said, bewildered.
'That's the check you wanted.'
'What happened? Did it get chopped up in a canceling machine?'
Rabin sighed. 'The intact check was retrieved in Atlanta, on its way to Treasury. It was put aside to be mailed to you the next morning. But in the morning, this was all that was left of it. It just shredded away, disintegrated. We have our lab working on it now.'
Harker turned to Crockett. 'There goes our case,' he said.
'Your case may be important,' Rabin said, 'but not as important as finding the source of this paper that self- destructs. Do you realize what this could do to the banking system? Chaos! We are now in the process of preparing a letter of warning to every bank and savings and loan in the country.'
'Mr. Rabin wants the Secret Service to take over the whole investigation,' Crockett said, lacing his fingers across his vest. 'He feels they have more manpower and resources than we have.'
'We already have a Secret Service man working on it,' Harker said. 'Henry Ullman, a good investigator.'
Rabin shook his head. 'One man is hardly sufficient to assign to a problem of this magnitude. I must ask that you turn over to us all the information you have in your possession, such as how you knew the check was forged, who deposited it, and any other evidence you may possess bearing on the case.'
Silence in the room. Finally, Crockett shook his head.
'No, Mr. Rabin,' the chief said, 'I don't think so. I am sure you'll go over my head and your request with my superiors. If they order me to turn the case over to you, then I have no choice. But at the moment I do have a choice, and I choose to have this organization retain control of the investigation.'
Rabin looked at them, eyes blinking furiously. 'I shall certainly inform Washington of your refusal to cooperate. You are making a very, very serious error of judgment.'
He stood, gathered up hat and attache case, stalked out. He didn't exactly slam the door behind him, but he didn't close it gently either.
'Thank you, sir,' Tony said.
Crockett shrugged. 'Calculated risk. I have some chits in Washington I'll have to call in on this, but I think we're safe for a time. I'll ask for six months. Can you do it?'
Harker drew a deep breath. 'Sure,' he said. He left the office and went directly to the bullpen. He found Henry Ullman at his desk, writing on a yellow legal pad.
'I know,' Ullman said, looking up. 'You want my report. You'll have it this afternoon.'
'No, Hank,' Tony said, 'it's something else. Will you come to my office, please.'
There he told the investigator about the disintegrating check.
'Son of a bitch,' Ullman said. 'That's a new one. Going to pick up Rathbone?'
'What for? The evidence is destroyed. And I want to give our plant a chance to track the source of the paper. Rathbone isn't the forger; he's the pusher, once removed. And I still want to know what part Mike Mulligan is playing. He was Rathbone's contact at the Crescent Bank. What have you got on him?'
'Apparently a fine, upstanding citizen. No rap sheet. He's clean with the IRS. Been with the bank almost thirty years. Divorced. No children. Lives in a one-bedroom condo in a plush development. Drives a two-year-old Buick. Goes to church. Nothing in his lifestyle to indicate he's on the take.'
'What kind of a guy is he?'
'You'd think, wouldn't you, that with a moniker like Mike Mulligan he'd be a big, brawny, red-faced Irishman. Actually, he's a scrawny little guy, a real Caspar Milquetoast. Elderly. White-haired. Wears hornrimmed cheaters and carries an umbrella on cloudy days. He's got a schedule during the week that never varies. People say they can set their watches by him. For instance, every working day he leaves the bank at precisely five o'clock, walks three blocks to a bar called the Navigator, Mulligan sits in a back booth by himself and has two extra-dry gin martinis straight up, no more, no less. Then he goes home by cab. I got most of this personal stuff from the barmaid, a mouthy broad. She says she's never seen him drunk or with a woman.'
'Have you been able to make contact?'
'Not yet. I've been hanging out at the Navigator, so now I'm considered a regular. But the guy sits by himself way in the back and doesn't talk to anyone. I'm afraid a direct approach might spook him. I've got a way to get to him, but I'll need a partner. You have anyone I can borrow for an afternoon?'
'Sorry,' Harker said, 'all my guys are out. What's your idea?'
Ullman described it to him. 'It's a neat scam,' he finished. 'A variation of the good cop-bad cop routine. I've used it before, and it works. But I need someone who can put on an act.'
'I think I could do it,' Tony said.
'You sure?' Hank said. 'If you blow it, I never will be able to get close to the guy.'
'I won't blow it,' Harker said. 'Come on, let's do it today.'
'Okay,' Ullman said. 'We both better take our cars because if this thing goes down, we won't be coming back together.'
They discussed the details, and the Secret Service man drilled Tony on the role he was to play. Then they went out for hamburgers and fries before heading up Federal Highway.
They got to Boca Raton about three-thirty, Ullman leading the way in his dusty Plymouth. He pulled up in front of the Navigator Bar amp; Grill, signaled by waving an arm out the window, then drove away. Harker parked nearby, locked up, and walked back to the bar.
It was a long, narrow room, bar on the right, booths on the left. There were no customers. When Tony entered, the tall, rawboned barmaid put down the supermarket tabloid she was reading and gave him a gap-toothed smile.
'Am I ever glad to see youshe said. 'I was beginning to wonder if we had a quarantine sign on the door.''
As instructed by Ullman, Harker went to the rear and took the last barstool.
'Want to be by your lonesome, huh?' the barmaid said, coming down to stand before him. 'What can I get for you, honey?'
'Vodka on the rocks. Splash of water.'
'Any special brand?'
'Nah,' he said. 'The house vodka will do. They're all alike.'
'If you say so,' she said, made his drink, and put it on a cork coaster in front of him.
He drank it off in four deep swallows and set the empty glass down.
'Another,' he said.
'Hoo, boy,' she said, 'someone was thirsty. Take it easy, honey; the day is young.'
He made no reply and she gave up on him, going back to her tabloid. After he finished his second drink, he deliberately knocked over the glass, spilling ice cubes onto the bar.
'Clean this up, will you?' he said.
'Sure,' the barmaid said, mopping up. 'Happen to anyone. Another?'
'Yeah,' Harker said. 'Make it a double. This lousy vodka's got no kick.' He threw a twenty on the bar.
'You're the boss,' she said, but she was no longer smiling.
As he worked on his drink, patrons began to straggle in, taking seats at the bar. Two couples arrived and took a booth. At four-thirty Henry Ullman came in and stood near the center of the bar.
Harker signaled the barmaid. 'Another double,' he said in a loud voice. 'You sure you're not watering this booze?'
She didn't reply but poured him a refill. Then she went back to where Ullman was standing. She leaned across the bar and whispered to him, jerking her head in Tony's direction.
At five after five, precisely, a white-haired man entered the Navigator. Harker figured he had to be Mike Mulligan. He was small, skinny, in a three-piece suit of gray tropical worsted. And he was wearing hornrimmed specs. He went directly to the last booth and slid in. The barmaid was at his side almost instantly with a martini in a stemmed glass.
In about fifteen minutes, Tony glanced at Henry Ullman, and the big man nodded once. Tony got off his barstool and staggered slightly. He didn't have to fake that. He looked around a moment, then carried his drink over
