Jack goes to the opera and ballet: in fact I hear that he's pretty near the sole support of one ballet group. He collects pictures, and when I say collects I don't mean that he steals them. He puts up bids at the Parke-Bernet Gallery in New York like any other millionaire, and he does the same at Sotheby's and Christie's in England. He has a good-looking wife and a fine house, mixes in the best society and cuts a fine figure among the best people, none of whom know that he's anything other than a legitimate businessman. He's that, too, of course; I wouldn't be surprised if he wasn't one of your biggest shareholders, Mr. Fallon.'
'I'll check on it,' said Fallon sourly. 'And how does he derive his main income? The illegitimate part?'
'Gambling, drugs, prostitution, extortion, protection,' reeled off Harris glibly. 'And any combination or permutation. Jack's come up with some real dillies.'
'My God!' said Fallon.
'That's as maybe,' I said. 'But how did Niscemi suddenly pitch up at the farm? The photograph of the tray only appeared in the Press a few days before. How did Gatt get on to it so fast?'
Harris hesitated and looked at Fallon enquiringly. Fallon said glumly, 'You might as well have the whole story. I was upset at Halstead's accusation that I stole the Vivero letter from him, so I put Harris on to checking it.' He nodded to Harris.
'Gatt had men following Mr. Fallon and probably Halstead, too,' said Harris. This is how it came about.
'Halstead did have the Vivero letter before Mr. Fallon. He bought it here in Mexico for $200. Then he took it home to the States -- he lived in Virginia at the time -- and his house was burgled. The letter was one of the things that were stolen.' He put the tips of his fingers together and said, The Way I see it, the Vivero letter was taken by sheer chance. It was in a locked briefcase that was taken with the other stuff.'
'What other stuff?' I asked.
'Household goods. TV set, radios, a watch, some clothing and a little money.'
Fallon cocked a sardonic eye at me. 'Can yon see me interested in second-hand clothing?'
'I think it was a job done by a small-time crook,' said Harris. The easily saleable stuff would be got rid of fast-there are plenty of unscrupulous dealers who'd take it. I daresay the thief was disappointed by the contents of the briefcase.'
'But it got to the right man -- Gerryson,' I said. 'How did be get hold of it?'
'I wondered about that myself,' said Harris. 'And I gave Gerryson a thorough going-over. His reputation isn't too good; the New York cops are pretty sure he's a high-class fence. One curious thing turned up -- he's friendly with Jack Gatt. He stays at Jack's house when he's in Detroit.'
He leaned forward. 'Now, this is a purely hypothetical reconstruction. The burglar who did the Halstead residence found himself with the Vivero letter; it was no good to him because, even if he realized it had some value, he wouldn't know how much and he wouldn't know where to sell it safely. Well, there are ways and means. My guess is, it was passed along channels until it came to someone who recognized its value -- and who would that be but Jack Gatt, the cultured hood who owns a little museum of his own. Now, I don't know the contents of this letter, but my guess is that if Gatt was excited by it then he'd check back to the source -- to Halstead.'
'And what about Gerryson?'
'Maybe that was Gatt's way of getting a second opinion, said Harris blandly. 'Mr. Fallon and I have been talking about it, and we've come to some conclusions.'
Fallon looked sheepish. 'Er . . . it's like this ... I ... er ... I paid $2,000 to Gerryson for the letter.'
'So what,' I said.
He avoided my eyes. 'I knew the price was too low. It's worth more than that.'
I grinned. 'You thought it might be ... is the word hot, Mr. Harris?'
Harris winked. 'That's the word.'
'No,' said Fallon vehemently. 'I thought Gerryson was making a mistake. If a dealer makes a mistake it's his business' -- they take us collectors to the cleaners often enough. I thought I was taking Gerryson, for a change.'
'But you've changed your mind since.'
Harris said, 'I think Mr. Fallon got took. I think Gatt fed the letter to him through Gerryson just to see what he'd do about it. After all, he couldn't rely on Halstead who is only another young and inexperienced archeologist. But if he gave the letter to Mr. Fallon, who is the top man in the business, and then Mr. Fallon started to ran around in the same circles as Halstead, Gatt would be certain he was on the right track.'
'Plausible, but bloody improbable,' I said.
'Is it? Jack Gatt is no dumb bunny,' said Harris earnestly. 'He's highly intelligent and educated enough to see a profit in things that would be right over any other hood's head. If there's any dough in this Gatt will be after it.'
I thought of the golden gutters of the roofs of Uaxuanoc and of the king's palace plated with gold within and without. I thought of the mountain of gold and the burning sign of gold which Vivero had described. Harris could very well be right.
He said, 'I think that Halstead and Mr. Fallon have been trailed wherever they've been. I think that Niscemi was one of the trailers, which is why he was on the spot when your golden tray was discovered. He tipped off Gatt, and Gatt flew across and made your brother an offer for it. I've investigated his movements at the time and it all checks out. When your brother turned him down flat he told Niscemi to get the tray the hard way. That wasn't something that would worry Jack Gatt, but he made damned sure that he wasn't even in the country when the job was pulled. And then Niscemi -- and whoever else was with him -- bungled it, and he got himself killed.'
And Gatt was the man whom that simple Devonshire farmer, Hannaford, had liked so much. I said, 'How can we get at the bastard?'
This is all theoretical,' said Harris. 'It wouldn't stand up in a law court.'
