Keeping Secrets (34 page)

“I'm afraid it might be getting a little stickier than that.”

“Well you can always get out if it is something you don't feel you can handle.”

I shook my head at her. “You never cease to amaze me. One minute you'd see me hanging by my toenails for the V. for W. or some other worthy cause. The next minute you tell me not to risk getting my feet wet in the rain.”

“I know …” she said slowly. “It's the mother in me, I guess, love. I'd never forgive myself if you got hurt or anything, but at the same time I expect you to be a wildcatter like me.”

“Well you sure have a way of bringing that about.”

She smiled and put a hand around my chin. “You're made of strong stuff, Camille.… I guess I blame myself for pushing you out from under my wing so early. But I trust your judgment to get out of this thing if you feel it's too dangerous. You're dealing with a high-principled group of people. They wouldn't hold it against you if you didn't come through for them.”

“I suppose you're right.”

“Well now, what are you doing in your spare time? Have you met any nice young men?”

“I don't have much spare time. I've been seeing the son of a grocer down the street, but he's just a pal. Nice guy, but it's nothing serious.”

“Good. You're young yet. You are to be admired for holding down a good job and seeing that the cupboard is filled and the rent's paid … it is, isn't it?”

I laughed. “Oh Mom, you're so cagey. You'd make the better spy. How about a salad? And as to the rent, well I'm making it, but just barely.”

“You ought to be used to that. All the time you kids were growing up, we managed by the grace of God and army benefits, such as they were.”

When Mother's train left there was a light snow falling, and, whether because of the downcast weather or because I treasured her visits so dearly, I felt very lonely as I waved good-bye to her figure on the other side of the train window and wiped away a tear, warm against my cold cheek.

When Tetzel returned at the end of the month, he was preoccupied more than usual and a bit edgy. I still had not heard from Edwin on the note Tetzel sent to R. M. Francke in New York, and kept trying to read something into Tetzel's actions that would tell me whether he'd gotten wind of what was going on behind his back. In fact I wondered what would happen if something went wrong. Would Edwin simply disappear, and leave the BNA's dirty laundry on my doorstep? Surely not.…

First thing, Tetzel asked for the arrangement of a meeting with Emory Cabot. I rang his office but got no answer. “It's almost noon … maybe he's out to lunch,” I suggested.

“He has a man working for him—what's his name?—Nathan Hope, that's it.”

“Apparently he's out too.”

“Confound it. Try and reach Mrs. Cabot at their home, find out where he is and tell her I need to see him as soon as I can.”

“Yessir.”

I found Electra Cabot to be a soft-spoken and seemingly refined woman over the telephone. She asked me to tell Tetzel that her husband was out of the country on business, and she was not sure just when he would return. I asked her to hold the line while I checked for a message, but Mr. Tetzel wouldn't leave one. I began wondering what sort of woman a man like Cabot would be married to—timid and fragile, yielding to a strong spouse? Or tough underneath, like Cabot definitely was on the surface? A few days later, quite by accident, I began finding out.

I saw her standing at the counter at Butler's, talking to Keith's father. “I used to live in Colorado, and now that I'm here I never miss the opportunity to buy fresh vegetables and fruits in season. When I saw your ad about strawberries I hurried over.”

“Well, they're a mite expensive now, but pretty good for the first of the season. There's a quart,” he said, eying the scales. “Can I put these on your account?”

“I don't have one.”

“Then, allow me to open one for you. What was that name?”

“Cabot. Mrs. Emory Cabot.”

I had been listening because there was something slightly familiar about her voice, and now I knew why. I edged in a bit closer as she continued to chat with Mr. Butler. He was telling her he'd always wanted to go to Colorado, but in spite of his many questions about the conditions there, the only information she related was that the climate was too cold, and she liked it better here. As she phrased her brief answers, her voice became lower and lower so that I could barely hear her at all. Finally he told her of a man he'd known several years back who went to Denver and opened a small grocery store, whose business had now grown to a chain of six or seven stores in the Denver area. He told her the name and asked if she'd ever shopped in one of them.

For some reason, the question seemed to startle her, and she faltered, “I … didn't ever … that is, actually I lived in a little town not far from Denver.” Then, as though in a hurry she wished him good day and gathered her parcels. I kept my eyes on her as she walked out the door. She was well dressed and very striking. Looked as if Cabot had good taste in women.…

On the way home I kept thinking of the curious fact she'd spoken as though she came to this city alone … so maybe she had not been married to Cabot very long. And she was obviously nervous when asked about Colorado.

For the first time then I realized I'd failed to be on my toes since Mr. Tetzel returned, too busy worrying over his own discovery of me to catch a possible tie-in. Why had Cabot been the first person he wanted to see? I redoubled my steps and went to the nearest telephone to call Edwin. I was fairly bursting with curiosity over the mysterious note to R. M. Francke anyway. Maybe Edwin would have some information for me.

There was no answer. I checked the time. Six-thirty. He ought to have been there. I went to my apartment, determined to check with him again in an hour or so, but found a note from him inside my door. “Meet me at lunch tomorrow, twelve-thirty in front of Roach and Barnes Kodaks on West Commerce.”

After that, I didn't sleep all night.

Next day Edwin told me the link was definite. “Tetzel has been responsible for a major part of the weapons being shipped south of the border, and will play a definite role in the planning for Huerta's return. This month the Germans are to send a man by the name of von Rintelen over to mastermind the plot. He'll be meeting with Huerta in New York, and instructing Tetzel as to weapons.”

“So V.R. in Tetzel's letter stood for von Rintelen.… I wonder if he got to talk to Francke in New York upon his return, about the ‘change in the picture.'”

“Our people weren't able to find out about it, if he did.”

“Well, with this link, all you have to do is catch the two men on the spot, right? Then—” I began nervously, but Edwin interrupted.

“We think Tetzel is involved still further, and we don't want to pick him up yet.”

“What more could he be doing?”

“You mentioned his trip to Europe … while there, he arranged for the transfer of copper through Norway into Germany. It is the only way to get raw materials past the British blockade. Denmark and Holland are co-operating with the Allies, but Norway maintains an attitude they'll ship to whomever, wherever they choose; see, they also produce a sizable amount of copper themselves, so they want to leave all the doors open.”

“I still don't see any wrong in that. The British blockade is starving them to death. Neither do I blame the Germans for declaring a war zone all the way around the British Isles, if you want to know the truth.” I hadn't intended to be so blunt, but I was getting edgy myself.

“Good points, but the important item here is that the further we dig, the further down we find Tetzel, and we want to see how far the cable goes before it runs out. Now, what did you learn since we last met?”

“Only one thing that looks significant. The first man Tetzel asked to see when he got back was Emory Cabot, and Cabot was out of the country—I don't know where—on business. I also ran across his wife in the grocery store, and overheard her indicate she and Cabot haven't been married very long.”

“How old a man would you say Cabot is?”

“Oh, mid-thirties, probably. I wish I'd looked over his papers more carefully when he first came into the bank.”

“Why didn't you?”

“I was busy,” I said, not about to admit I was busy looking at Cabot. “Besides, I attached no particular importance to him at the time.”

“All right. Anything else?”

“Yes. Mrs. Cabot lived near Denver, Colorado, before.”

“Hm … that's copper-mining territory.”

“Oh … I didn't think of that,” I told him, then described her reticence in talking with Mr. Butler.

“She might bear some checking out. Can you shadow her? Find out what her name was before. We'll need a line on her before we can get any further.”

“Oh, and Mr. Tetzel mentioned Cabot had a man working for him named Hope.”

“See if you can find an excuse to go by Cabot's office one day—deliver papers or something. You still on the mails?”

“As much as I can be. But Tetzel hasn't asked me lately, and he hasn't been back very long.” I was beginning to perspire. “Look, couldn't you just slap a fine on Tetzel for his part in the Huerta thing and let him go? I'm sure he'd never—”

“Don't be naïve. One thing you've got to learn is that you can't afford to get off the train until you've reached the end of the line, and don't let kindness fool you. I can probably get some information on Cabot with what I have, but you've got to work on his wife and his man.

“What I really need is a wire in Tetzel's office now. Did you find a place big enough for a machine?”

“There's a storeroom nearby, with one wall backing up to his office. No one ever seems to go in there. It's full of old office furniture, mostly.”

“Perfect. Does it lock?”

“Everything in that bank has a lock on it.”

“Have a key made for me, and meet me here with it tomorrow. I'll take care of the rest.”

“All right, except—”

“What's bothering you now?”

“The same thing that has bothered me all along. I just don't see why Tetzel would be involved in a dirty thing like you suspect. People do things for reasons, and he has nothing to gain in all this. He already has money, so it can't be that. He has position in society, belongs to all the right clubs, knows influential people. Why risk it all?”

“That's something we may never know.”

I sighed. “It's very hard for me to … you know … cast the first stone at him.”

“If we're wrong, he doesn't have to know what we suspected, but we're looking for something bigger than what we've uncovered so far. The Germans have fifty million dollars invested in sabotage over here, and it's beginning to look like Tetzel is in charge of distributing a large share of it.”

“Well if it turns out all he's really doing wrong is helping Huerta to get back, what will you do?”

“Maybe nothing, and remember, all we can do is gather evidence and put it into the right hands. By the way, I haven't been able to get anything on Stuttgart. How about you?”

“Nothing,” I said, then looked at his profile. “What do you do in your spare time?”

“I don't have much.” He laughed. “See 'ya tomorrow.”

He walked away and eventually disappeared among the people crowding the sidewalks. I turned around to face a camera display in the shop window, and was reminded I hadn't taken one picture of the bank staff. I hadn't even been able to throw all my energies into the crusade because I just couldn't convince myself Tetzel was as bad as the BNA believed him to be. For Edwin, dealing with me must have been like swimming against a strong current.

I made up my mind then I was either going to have to give it my all or get out. So far my only concern had been with one man. Now a whole new group of faces and names had been thrown into the can to be shaken up and sorted out. I just couldn't give up my faith in Mr. Tetzel's goodness, and never really feared anything worse from him than being fired, should he discover me in an act of sleuthing.

But Emory Cabot was an unknown quantity, as were his wife and his man Hope. How far would any of them go to save their necks, or to avenge anyone connected with undermining them?

Suddenly Stobalt's opening plea—that plots involving Tetzel might well be endangering the lives of innocent American citizens—echoed in my mind. I shoved my hands into my pockets and went back to work. I decided I would go on.

8

Setting up a recording machine in Mr. Tetzel's office proved a nearly impossible task. Difficulty enough arose from the fact the bread-box-size machine had to be concealed in one place, then connected by wire to a sizable receiver in another, several yards away and down a hall. Edwin installed the machine out of sight at the back of the storeroom with relative ease. However, the only place inside Tetzel's office for the receiver was behind the credenza next to the safe at the rear of his desk. Edwin had to hook it as near to the top as possible while still hiding it from view, and up-end the head in the hope of catching at least part of the conversations carried on there.

“It might work, but these things don't have much scope, and a lot will depend upon how loud people are talking,” he said doubtfully. “Does Tetzel have a loud voice?”

“No, rather low.”

“Hm … and his back will probably be to the receiver. Well, we'll have a go at it, anyway.”

Neither of us realized we had a deceivingly simple problem facing us which would take a long time figuring out. I soon thought the whole scheme pretty fruitless, as Tetzel didn't make a habit of talking any but banking business on the phone, and in the weeks between his return from Europe and Cabot's return from what proved to be Mexico no conversations of significance were recorded on the machine. Neither did he place any mail in my hands for delivery to the post office, although I offered to serve as courier several times. I was beginning to think he might suspect me, and was afraid of pressing the point very far.