'Small stuff. Checks. Bank books. Shit like that.'
'Mr. Grover was a forger, Mr. Daniels. A very good one As you know,' commented Whiteside.
Thomas nodded.
'I don't like to be boastful,' said Grover humbly, 'but-' 'But he could look at a signature once and reproduce it' said Whiteside.
'The endowments of an artist, in a sense ' 'I know about his criminal career,' said Thomas.
'What's it have to do with garbage?'
'Trash,' Grover corrected him, quickly and gleefully.
'Trash collection. You see, in 1940 I was in trouble. Very serious trouble with the United States government over a bit of artwork I was doing:' 'Forgery?'
'Certain signatures,' said Grover innocently.
'On a set of Treasury bills He shrugged.
'The signatures themselves were perfectly done. Using the wrong name did me in.'
'What did it have to do with Sandler?' asked Thomas.
Grover smiled.
'Very good' he complimented the younger man.
'You figured that right away.' He paused, glancing at Whiteside.
'I was a forger, not an engraver. Does that answer it? It should.'
Thomas assessed him coldly, wondering what was within or outside of the bounds of credibility.
'But Sandler could engrave,' he suggested, half a question, half a statement.
'Could?' he laughed, his eyebrows shooting skyward.
'Could? Do the frigging birds sing in the morning? Best damned engraver who ever lived. Give him the right tools and he could reengrave Cleopatra's needle so that you couldn't tell his from the original. Hell'' he laughed, 'he could reengrave Cleopatra.' 'So you were his associate. I already knew that. So what?'
'Trash collection' smiled Grover, warming to his reminiscences.
'The government arrested me for forging Treasury bills. They were all set to really stick it to me. I figured that I was ready to sit out the next twenty in the jug. But then,' he added slowly, 'they offered me a deal. Mind if I smoke?'
Grover reached to a pack of cigarettes within his pocket. No one was inclined to object.
'The government told me there was a lot of trash in the country and abroad' he said.
'They knew I was Italian and knew I spoke Italian fluently. Like a native. They asked me)' he said through a cloud of smoke as he looked Daniels squarely in the eye, 'how I'd feel about killing.'
'Killing who?'
'Killing whoever they told me to' he said. He drew on the cigarette.
'We came to an agreement. four assignments. Trash assignments, they called them, and I'd be the collector. Foreign spies against the United States, they assured me.' He blew the smoke out through his nose.
'Well, I'm as patriotic as the next guy. Even more so, if it keeps me out of prison. Capisce?'he winked, with an exaggerated gesture and an Italian-peasant accent.
'One murder in New York, another in south Philadelphia. On the third they sent me to Calabria in 1944. I scored' Thomas wondered about the fourth assignment and was about to inquire when Whiteside spoke.
'So there's what a trash collector is' said the Englishman.
'Now you know.'
'Sure' said Thomas.
'But that can't be all of it 'Perceptive, perceptive,' grinned Whiteside.
'Of course there's more. How could there not be? After all, there was more than simply my friend Mr. Grover involved. There was also Arthur Sandler.
And, of course…' He offered his hand forward expansively, soliciting the missing word from Thomas.
'My father.'
Hunter and Grover both smiled. Whiteside eased back in his chair, apparently quite pleased.
Chapter 29
Whiteside spoke more rapidly now, as if to cover a great expanse of time as quickly as possible. Mr. Grover, he explained, had entered the war in Europe as a man of many principles. But the foremost principle was that of flexibility.
Through an underground route of partisans, Grover, after assassinating a German counterspy in Calabria, was whisked by boat and railroad to Gibralter. There he contacted a man named Lester Gregory. Gregory was a captain in the British Army, stationed 'on the rock ' as they called it, since Hitler was still trying to entice Franco into entering the war by attacking the British at Gibralter.
Captain Gregory also had another function. He was one of the top M.I. 6 agents on the rock.
Through joint Anglo-American intelligence reports, Gregory knew both the function and the assignment of the man whose real name was De Septio. Gregory, however, acting on orders from London, sought to raise Grover's self-awareness to a higher level.
Grover, accepting cash as compensation, agreed thus to become a British operative within the United States, unknown to his American superiors.
'Spy was too strong a word, of course,' said Whiteside.
'An 'eye and ear' man would be more like it. Nothing treasonous, since it concerned Allied nations. He'd just report on anything interesting he'd seen or heard.'
Thomas eyed Grover during Whiteside's explanation. The logical conclusion for wartime capitalism, he thought; allegiances bought and sold. He looked back to Whiteside.
'So?' he asked.
'Sol' retorted Whiteside quickly, 'there are two aspects of this for you to remember. One, Mr. Grover-niDe Septio-was a trash collector for the Americans while he was a lower-echelon informant for us. Two ' he continued, 'you should have noticed a parallel between this man and his erstwhile associate, Sandler.'
'They were both recruited as spies,' said Thomas.
Whiteside fought back a smirk.
'Yes,' he said.
'Now, in reference to whom have you used the word 'recruit' recently?'
It took Thomas a long second and then he blanched. Recruitment. His father's involvement. The recruiting sergeant. Of course!
So painfully obvious all along. In retrospect so clear.
' 'Recruiting sergeant' was a term used for a certain type of man'
Whiteside began forcefully.
'A man like your father. Whatever his reasons, he sought to avoid the military, to not partake in any of the actual fighting. Know how he avoided it?', 'Go ahead,' said Thomas, defensiveness in his voice.
'By recruiting. As a barrister or attorney, particularly his kind, he had ties to criminal society.' Such as Mr. Grover. Or the slightly more respectable criminal society, such as Arthur Sandler. He also knew an important Federal prosecutor namedMcFedrics. He used one to please the other, saving his own tail in the process. Ingenious, really. He'd take on as clients men like De Septio and Sandler who were facing extremely stiff Federal prison terms. Then he offered them up as bait. He would recruit them as U.S. spies, taking advantage of their own special skills. He would tell them it was prison or a few years in intelligence work. Wasn't much of a choice, I should think.
The criminals got out of their jail terms, your father got out of the military, and your government got its spies.'
Thomas, almost nonplussed by Whiteside's discourse, let it sink in for a few moments.
'Did Zenger know?' he asked finally.
Whiteside laughed.
'That conniving little twerp? God, yes! He was doing the same thing.
