Nolan showed his card to the security men in the reception area of the apartment block and left one of his team with them. He guessed that they had been well greased by Kleppe and he warned them not to attempt to use the phone. Nolan’s man would take all calls.
The search team piled into the lift with Nolan, their leather cases heaped in one corner. There was no hurry because Kleppe would not be coming back. He would be going straight to the safe-house.
The locksmith tested the two door locks for ten minutes before he turned to Nolan.
“I can’t open the second one without breaking the alarm circuit. There’s a whole loom of wires spread through the door.”
“OK. Break the circuit.”
There were no ringing bells or flashing lights but Nolan guessed that the signal was telling its story somewhere. He went to the telephone on the ornate desk and called his men in the foyer.
“We’ve had to break the alarm circuit. You’ll be getting visitors soon. If they’re from NYPD take their badge numbers and check their ID cards. Refer them to the downtown office. No explanations, just identify yourselves. If it’s a captain refer him to the Commissioner. He knows about the search warrant. But no explanations. Understood?”
“OK, Mr. Nolan.”
Nolan’s team were already at work in pairs. One pair searched for electronics, a pair looked for documents and a pair checked the structure for cavities. One of each pair recorded comments into a portable cassette machine as they worked, and a photographer recorded the search. None of them had been told what they were looking for.
When the structure team came down from the attic they were shaking water from the three plastic bags and they had a small metal case. They laid them all on the long table. Nolan watched them unseal the plastic bags and shake out the shiny black notebooks. They opened one and after glancing at it briefly they passed it to Nolan.
“Looks like the Dead Sea Scrolls, chief.”
The radio team identified the contents of the metal case. They were spare circuit boards for the high-speed transmitter.
It was midnight before the search was complete and they took away radio equipment for evaluation, and piles of documents and correspondence. A reserve team re-checked the structure against the taped commentary with an electronic heat probe. They found nothing new.
Nolan went down to the lobby to check that the station wagon was there. It was. So was an irate police lieutenant and two sergeants. The lieutenant turned to look at Nolan.
“Are you Nolan?”
“Yes, lieutenant, I’m Nolan.”
“I’m taking you down to the precinct.”
At that point the first load of equipment and documents came down in the lift and the lieutenant verged on apoplexy.
“None of that goddamn stuff leaves these premises.”
His angry eyes searched Nolan’s face for surrender, and not finding it, he called on his troops. Pointing to his two sergeants, he said, “If they make one move to take away that stuff, book ’em and take ’em to Riker.” He looked back at Nolan in bristling challenge.
“What’s your name, lieutenant?”
“Don’t you back-answer a police officer in the course of his duty or you’ll be down the precinct in two minutes flat.”
Nolan looked at him calmly. “Maybe we’d better do that, lieutenant. He reached for the warrant in his inside pocket and the lieutenant’s hand flashed out. It stopped in mid-air as if it were set in concrete and as Nolan held it he said, “I have a search-warrant including right of removal. My men have already told you that we are CIA. If you still want to play games there will be an official inquiry as to why you were prepared to ignore the documentation. And don’t try to manhandle me again.”
The flushed face glanced at Nolan but the aggressive arm was lowered. “Where’s the warrant?”
Nolan removed it, folded, from his pocket and handed it to the lieutenant who unfolded it and read it slowly, his lips silently mouthing the words. When he was finished he held it in his hand as Nolan put out his hand for it. “Not so quick, mister. I’ll keep this. We’ll check it out.”
Nolan turned to the driver of the car who was standing just outside the open main doors. “Use the car radio, Finnegan, and call the Commissioner. Ask him to come down here right away.”
As the driver turned to the door the lieutenant shouted to his men. “Stop him. Stop the bastard.”
“Hold it.”
Nolan’s voice echoed in the tiled lobby and as the lieutenant turned he saw Nolan’s hand and the gun. The two sergeants froze. Apart from the gun they would have taken a cut in pension rather than miss this scenario.
The lieutenant stood like some reconstructed cave-man, with red bulging eyes and prognathous jaw.
“By Jesus, you’re gonna be right in the shit, mister. Obstructing an officer in the course of his duty. Threatening with a firearm, grand larceny, and God knows what.” His mouth was opening and closing silently, desperately searching for further offences.
Nolan kept his eyes on the lieutenant and said to the driver. “Call the Commissioner.”
Neanderthal man had second thoughts.
“No need to involve the Commissioner, Nolan. He’s a busy man. Just you and your men get your arses out of this building fast. We’ll seal the apartment doors.”
“They’re double-locked, lieutenant, but seal them if it makes you happy. I need the warrant.” And he held out his hand.
There was only a moment’s hesitation before it was handed over. The lieutenant and his men watched as the station-wagon was loaded. They stood looking through the glass doors as the car pulled out into the traffic. Nolan wondered how much the lieutenant’s rip-off had been. It must have been substantial for him to take those risks.
When the material had been unloaded at the safe-house at Central Park, Nolan walked back to the car. He was asleep before they reached the expressway and the driver shook him awake in
