“What’s going on?”
“Let’s talk in the coffee-shop, chief.”
Nolan moved off, slapping the wet snow from his canvas travel bag. Until the coffee came he sat without speaking, but when the waitress left he looked at Steiner.
“OK. What is it?”
“We had to knock off one of the Russians.”
“Go on.”
“He pulled a gun on O’Hara. We checked it afterwards. The safety catch was off and there was one up the spout. O’Hara shot in self-defence.”
“Where was this?”
“In the yard at the back of Kleppe’s block in Sutton Place.”
“When?”
“Just after seven this evening.”
“Which morgue is he in?”
Steiner took a deep breath. “He’s not in a morgue, Mr. Nolan. I wasn’t sure you would want that.”
Nolan watched the cream turning in slow circles on his coffee as he slowly stirred it.
“Where is he?”
“In the boot of my car.”
“Jesus God. Where is it?”
“Here. In the car park.”
“Have you gone over him?”
“Yes. His name is Pankov. Leonid Pankov. Based in the Soviet Consulate-General. Big fellow. Typical KGB hit man.”
“What was the weapon?”
“A standard Luger and special silencer. KGB pattern. We’ve been trying to get a bug on Kleppe’s windows. O’Hara was checking. This guy came out of a garbage can.”
“What were you proposing to do with him?”
“Dump him.”
“Did you pay for the coffee?”
“Yes.”
“Let’s go.”
Nolan was silent as they walked to the car park and as Steiner reached to turn on the ignition Nolan grabbed his hand.
“You did what was best, Joe. Is there any chance of a witness?”
“I’m pretty sure not, chief.”
“OK. Dump him. And dump him good. I don’t wanna know anything about it.”
“Right, chief.”
“Take me to the Central Park safe-house.”
Nolan stopped the car at the Chase Gallery and walked the rest of the way.
He called for the evaluation file on the KGB teams at the Consulate-General, and stood reading it as he absent-mindedly eased off his wet coat. Still reading, his hand searched behind him for the chair, and he pulled it forward and sat down slowly.
He was still there when the false dawn broke over the Park.
CHAPTER 13
When Nolan got back to the house at Hartford there was a message from Harper, instructing him to avoid any direct contact with Dempsey. As President-Elect’s putative Chief-of-Staff, Harper felt that Dempsey was too important to risk any reaction from the White House at this stage. Kleppe also should not be contacted directly until further information was available from the FBI and IRS records.
Nolan telephoned police chief Henney at his headquarters but, apart from more detailed descriptions of the two suspects, there was little further information. They were checking Siwecki’s tax returns for the past five years and there were several sets of fingerprints but none identifiable. Local fingerprint records and New York records had already proved negative. It looked like Oakes and Haig were Nolan’s only hope for a fishing expedition.
He phoned Haig, who was obviously reluctant to see him again but when he insisted Haig agreed to see him at seven that evening, at his office.
The security guard at the factory gate phoned through to Haig’s office and then he was escorted across the yard past the stores to the main office block. There was frost sparkling in the lights from the big workshop windows, and a general air of busyness. Haig Electronics were obviously doing well.
Haig called out for him to come in when the security man knocked at the door, and Nolan noticed that Haig’s desk was clear of all papers as he lifted himself grudgingly from his chair to take Nolan’s outstretched hand.
“What can I do for you this time, Mr. Nolan?”
“Well, much the same as before, Mr. Haig. I want to talk about that strike.”
Haig looked across at Nolan.
“Are you some stooge from the Democrats?”
“Why should I be that, Mr. Haig?”
“You obviously want to find out something to the President’s disadvantage.”
“The President-Elect, Mr. Haig.”
“OK. The President-Elect.”
“I’m not a Democrat, Mr. Haig. I’m not political. And all I want are the facts. And maybe we should widen this chat a little.”
“By all means.”
“Mr. Haig. I know that the strike was phoney. I know that it was contrived to help Powell’s bid for nomination as Governor of this State. That doesn’t necessarily mean that you were part of this set-up.”
“You say you know. D’you mean you guess?”
“Not at all. One of the principal parties to the affair has told me. Told me also what he was paid to go along with it. And told me also who paid him. We are checking on bank records and tax returns right now.”
“Why don’t you go ahead with whatever you intend on that evidence, Mr. Nolan?”
“I think you know why I can’t do that, Mr. Haig. Or you can have a damn good guess.”
“Siwecki being killed, you mean?”
“Yes.”
Haig pushed his chair back so that he was parallel to his desk, still looking at Nolan.
“I swear I didn’t know at the time, Nolan. It was two weeks before I knew.”
“How did you find out?”
“I got a confidential phone call from the vice-president of production at one of our car customers. They were one of the complainants about our sub-assemblies and Powell had called down one of their inspectors. He had reported back to his management.”
“What did he tell them?”
“That the circuit boards had been deliberately damaged before they left here by scoring them with a sharp instrument.”
“What did you do?”
“I got Siwecki in and talked to him about it.”
“What did he say?”
“He denied it, and when I pursued it he threatened another strike.”
“And you concluded that Powell had contrived the strike?”
“No, I didn’t. I don’t think Powell knew any more about it than I did. He may have uncovered it when he was arbitrating, but even then he may have decided it was better to get the strike over. And he may have been right at that.”
“Who do you think could have contrived it?”
“It beats me, Nolan. I’ve thought about it a hundred times but it doesn’t make sense. Take Siwecki. He’s a Commie so he’d have no interest in helping
