“It’s not Ernie,” I said, shutting the door behind me. I was wearing the same yellow polo shirt and tan slacks as yesterday and they probably looked like I’d slept in them, which I had.
His brow furrowed, his eyes widened. “What the hell are you doing here?”
I pulled up a chair and sat opposite him. “I’ve had warmer welcomes. I thought you wanted to hire me.”
He threw the papers on his desk and smirked in disgust. “It’s a little late for that, isn’t it? You look like you fell off a moving train.”
“I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
His smile was as straight as his pencil-line mustache. “Don’t tell me Nate Heller’s developing a conscience. Little late for that, isn’t it, boy?”
“Just
The smile disappeared; he leaned back in his swivel chair, and began to rock. “I talked Amelia through ditching the Vega, before the Pacific flight, and I did the same thing where the Electra’s concerned, before this one. But it’s not the kind of thing you can really prepare for—and you don’t exactly wanna go out over the water and practice.”
“Assume the best.”
He tented his fingertips, stopped rocking. “Okay, let’s say she wasn’t over choppy waters, first of all. Then let’s say she lowered her flaps at the right moment, glided on in perfectly, stalling out at just the right height above the water, and let’s also say the plane stayed in one piece after impact—and, classically, the tail section’ll break off in a ditch like that—you still have the plane in a nose-down floating posture, due to the empty fuel tanks and the heavy engines. Assuming she and Noonan overcame all that, based on the Electra’s specs, I give her nine hours at best before that ship sank.”
“Even with the ping-pong balls?”
He frowned. “What ping-pong balls?”
“I understand they stuffed every spare space on that plane with ping-pong balls for better flotation.”
A harsh laugh rose from his chest. “That’s a new one on me. Maybe it
“Could they do that?”
“I sure as hell don’t know how. They did have a life raft and other emergency equipment on board, but in those waters, they’d be better off staying in the plane, if it’s floating.”
“Why? They could paddle the raft.”
There were no teeth in his smile, and no humor, either. “Those are shark-infested waters, Nate. What the hell
I rubbed my burning eyes with the heels of my hands. “I’m not trying to find Amelia and Fred. I’m pretty goddamn sure they’re not in Southern California.”
Another harsh laugh. “You are a hell of a detective, aren’t you?”
“You were right, Paul…dead right: G. P. did get Amelia tangled up in some kind of espionage mission.”
He began rocking again; his eyes were half-closed, but he was looking at me with a quiet intensity. “What can we do about it, now?”
“There’s a lot of rich Republicans who don’t like FDR.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
I laughed. “I can hardly believe I said that; if my old man knew what I was thinking…he was an old union guy from way back. Socialist to the bone. I’ve been a Democrat myself, as long as I can remember.”
“I still don’t follow you.”
I leaned an arm on his desk. “I made a wisecrack to G. P. last night—”
Alarm widened his eyes. “You saw G. P.?”
“Yeah. In that bungalow with gland trouble, down the street from your old digs. I had a little chat with him, and before that, I talked to that cute secretary that works over there.”
Now the eyes narrowed. “You see that guy Miller?”
“Sure did. Kind of like an All-American version of Bela Lugosi, isn’t he?”
He was sitting way forward, shaking his head. “What in God’s name are you getting yourself into? Don’t think you’re getting
“You called me, remember?”
“Over a goddamn
“Like I was saying, I made a wisecrack to G. P. about going to the
He held both palms up, as if he were balancing something invisible. “What good does that do Amelia?”
“Probably nothing. But it puts G. P.’s nuts in a wringer, and everybody from the White House down who thought it was a good idea to con Lady Lindy into playin’ Mata Hari’ll find themselves all over the front page and out of work and maybe in jail.”
