Jesse handed it over.
“I will return shortly,” Enzberg said. He left the room. Ten minutes later, he returned and handed the briefcase to Jesse. “A receipt is inside,” he said.
“Thank you, Mr. Enzberg,” Jesse said, and left. He was followed into the elevator by the young man in the gray suit.
“I’m from Pat Casey,” he said.
“Oh?”
“You may give me the briefcase now.”
“I wasn’t given any such instruction,” Jesse said.
“You have your instructions now.”
The elevator reached the ground floor. “Come with me,” Jesse said to the man. He walked to a bank of public telephones and telephoned Pat Casey. “Hi, Pat,” he said. “I’ve made the delivery Kurt Ruger asked me to, and now there’s a guy who says he’s from you and wants the briefcase.”
“It’s okay, Jesse,” Casey said. “Give it to him, and thanks for your help. Have a good time in New York.”
Jesse handed over the briefcase. “There you are,” he said, “and have a nice day.”
The man took the case and left the building.
Jesse walked slowly back down Fifth Avenue, thinking. He’d had occasion in Miami to see large sums of cash displayed from time to time — once an even ten million dollars in hundred dollar bills. He thought about the bulk that had represented and he figured that the briefcase had held two million. He got a cab back to the Roosevelt, picked up his presentation materials from his room, put on one of his new neckties then knocked on the door of the next room. Kip opened the door.
“Everything go smoothly?”
“No problem.”
“Manners lost you for half an hour; where were you?”
“Doing some sightseeing. Couldn’t he keep up?”
“No, and neither could your other tail.”
“Their problem, not mine.”
“We X-rayed the briefcase last night, but no joy. The technician reckoned it was lined in lead foil. However, the office you delivered it to is the New York branch of a small, very private Swiss bank.”
“I reckon it was two million,” Jesse said, explaining his reasoning. “My tail approached me in the elevator and asked for the case. Enzberg said there was a receipt inside.”
“Very interesting,” Kip said. “We now know Coldwater is not short of a few bucks, not if he’s sending millions outside the country.”
“I’ve got a theory about the source,” Jesse said. “Mind you, it’s only a guess.”
“Tell me.”
“St. Clair is the hometown of one Melvin Schooner; ring a bell?”
“The software billionaire?”
“One and the same. I spotted him in the local drugstore.”
“What makes you think he’s funding Coldwater?”
“Like I said, I’m only guessing, but one of the richest men in the country has a St. Clair connection.”
“You could have something there,” Kip said.
“Now don’t put the IRS on him or anything; let’s not muddy the waters.”
“Right. Do what you can to develop your theory.”
“If I’ve learned anything on this assignment, it’s not to develop anything, but to let them do the developing. So far, they can’t say that I’ve so much as asked an untoward question, and I’m going to keep it that way.”
“Do it your way.”
Jesse looked at his watch. “I’ve got a lunch date with Jenny at the skating rink at Rockefeller Center, and my business appointment is at two. I’d better get going.”
“Okay, looks like we’re all finished here. I’ll pack up and go; you and your lady have a good weekend. And you take care of yourself, Jess.”
They shook hands, and Jesse left. He walked to Rockefeller Center and found Jenny gazing up at the huge Christmas tree.
“Isn’t it the most spectacular thing you’ve ever seen?” she asked.
“It certainly is. You hungry?”
“Starved.”
They found a table at the skating rink restaurant, and Jesse heard the story of her morning. He kept his appointment at two, and left with assurances that orders for chipboard and plywood would be placed almost immediately.
Back at Rockefeller Center, he made sure he wasn’t still being followed, then went back to the State Department office. He walked back down Fifth Avenue toward his hotel, the new passports in his pocket, regretting that he couldn’t have taken the two million dollars and Jenny on the next plane to South America. At least, now, he had an out that included the two people in the world who were most important to him.
As that thought came to him he stopped dead in his tracks. A woman and a little girl were just turning into a shop. He watched them through the window for a moment and convinced himself that the child was not his own Carrie; she was too tall and her hair was too long. The woman looked oddly familiar, though. He walked back to the hotel, remembering that there was a third person, somewhere, who was terribly important to him, and that his chances of ever seeing her again were just about nil.
Chapter 31
Pat Casey sat in Kurt Ruger’s office at the bank and watched the young man on the sofa. He had trained the man himself, and he felt proud.
“The two subjects made the plane on schedule,” the young man, whose name was Ken Willis, said. “At La Guardia they got their luggage and took a cab to the Hotel Roosevelt and checked in. Barron put the briefcase in the hotel safe, just as you said he would. He and the woman stayed in their room until dinnertime, then left the hotel and went to a restaurant on West Sixty-Seventh Street. They were back at the hotel and in their room by eleven o’clock.”
“Tell me about the next day,” Ruger said.
“Barron was earlier than I’d expected,” Willis said, glancing at a notebook. “He picked up the briefcase at the front desk at eight o’clock and walked uptown. He seemed to be on a sort of sightseeing trip.”
“What sort of a sightseeing trip?” Casey asked.
“He walked uptown to Central Park and through the zoo, then he started down Fifth Avenue. At Rockefeller Center he watched the skaters for a couple of minutes, then he went into the NBC building and took the elevator to the roof.”
“Good place for a meet,” Ruger said. “Did he speak to anybody?”
“No, sir.”
“Did he bump into anybody, even look at anybody?”
“No, sir; he seemed preoccupied with sightseeing.”
“Then what?”
“He did some more walking; went into Sak’s and bought some things, apparently for the woman and a little girl, also some neckties. Then he walked up Fifth to number 666 and arrived at the office exactly on time. I waited in the hallway, and when he came out I asked him for the briefcase. He insisted on calling the chief before he’d give it to me.”
“From the time Barron picked up the briefcase at eight o’clock until he turned it over to you, was he ever out of your sight? Even for a few seconds?”
“No, sir,” Willis lied solemnly.
“Did you follow him anymore after that?”
“No, sir; I went straight to the airport, as I was instructed to do.”
Casey spoke up. “I only wanted to be sure he delivered the case; I saw no point in any further surveillance. If he’d done something untoward, we’d have heard about it.”
Ruger nodded. “Let me have the briefcase,” he said to Willis.
The young man placed the aluminum case on the desk.
Ruger worked the two combination locks, opened the case and removed two sheets of papers. “The receipt is in order,” he said, then he examined the other sheet. “Enzberg says that Barron behaved correctly and expressed no curiosity about the transaction.” He looked at Casey. “Pat, do you have any other questions for Ken?”
“Nope,” Casey replied.