“If I had the faintest idea of what you were talking about, Captain,” the minister said gently, “I might be more easily convinced. Or, at least, informed.”
“Yes, sir.” Da Silva smiled and then straightened his lips. “I’ll give you the story from the beginning.”
He began with his meeting with Wilson Christmas night, after his return from the dynamited bridge site, and carried the minister through all the events up to and including the attack on Jill Howard, her subsequent rescue, and the killings in Wilson’s apartment.
“One of the men involved, sir, worked for the Caxias Construction Company. The man who was killed in the jungle — his name was Sampaio — also worked for the Caxias Construction Company at one time as a dynamite blaster. And one of the jobs he had worked on was a summer house in Petrópolis for a Mr. Jack Crandall.” Da Silva paused a moment and then continued. “Incidentally, another job Sampaio happened to work on was the bridge itself. We found this out from International, the outfit that built the bridge.”
The minister was listening intently. Da Silva went on.
“That name, Jack Crandall, was the only tie I had between the Caxias Construction Company and someone connected with minerals and radioactivity, so naturally—”
“Minerals?” The minister frowned. “Radioactivity?”
“I didn’t tell you about that yet, did I, sir? That shoe I brought back from the interior — the one we used to identify Sampaio — excited a Geiger counter. It had obviously been in contact with some radioactive material—”
The minister sighed deeply. “I assume you’ll eventually make some sense of all this, Captain?”
“I’ll try, sir,” Da Silva said doggedly. “As I was saying, once I had a definite person to check on, a lot of things began to fall into place. Crandall was in the States at the time Howard was contacted; among other things he was attending a class reunion at Colorado Springs. That’s where the American Air Force Academy is. He was a pilot, which was essential for the job. We even found where he kept his plane, at the Petrópolis Air Club — quite openly. The storage space and the cockpit of the plane both excite a Geiger counter, incidentally. He graduated the academy, put in quite a few years in the Air Force, and when he was dropped for health reasons, he used his few mineralogy credits to get this job in the State Department. The fact is he really didn’t have much of a background for the job. He read enough to have the glib answers, but that was about all. He really needed Howard, especially when he was lucky enough to practically be handed a lovely deposit of one of the really valuable rare earths—”
“Captain!” For several seconds the minister stared at Da Silva sternly and then shook his head, sighing hopelessly. “Rare earths, eh? Which you also haven’t mentioned up to now. I assume you’ll eventually connect all this up, too.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll try.” Da Silva frowned a moment in thought and then nodded as his original arguments against Crandall returned to him. “As I told you, sir, Miss Howard was tied to a raft with the intention of shoving her out to sink and drown in the ocean off Arpoador. My first thought was that she must have been undressed in a car and that someone in the car must have seen our rescue and followed us to Wilson’s apartment, even though we didn’t notice anyone. Once I was checking out Crandall, though, it struck me as far more logical that he simply took her to his apartment. It was the ideal place to drug her and also to watch the action. And in recognizing Wilson, he knew where we went without having us followed.
“Now, sir, add to that his slip about Santa Isabel, and the case against him stands out like a politician in a confession booth—”
He suddenly reddened as his words came back to him. The minister smiled genially.
“Go on, Captain.” His deep-set eyes twinkled. “Let’s hope your analysis is as accurate as your similes. Or makes as much sense.”
“Yes, sir.” Da Silva took a deep breath. “Well, I knew Crandall was our man, but I really didn’t have anything in the way of proof that would stand up in court. Everything was conjecture; the only witnesses we might have had were all dead, and at that time I assumed that Dr. Howard was also dead, killed up there at the bridge together with Sampaio. And Miss Howard’s evidence — of recognizing a man she doesn’t even know she saw clearly back in the States — would have been laughed out of court. In fact, since she’s recovered, she says she didn’t even see the men who drugged her. So the only possible way I could conceive of getting him was to have him convict himself. That’s why I went through the business of having that mask made, looking like a man he thought he had already killed—”
“Ah, yes.” The minister nodded. “You mentioned that mask way back at the beginning of your report. At least that part of your report connects up, although I’m far from sure with what. Let’s get back to those rare earths. What was he lucky enough to find that was worth the trouble — and the criminal action that he took?”
“Lutetium, sir. In an almost unbelievably rich concentration. According to Howard — and he’s considered one of the leading authorities, I’ve discovered — this particular ore was the highest concentration he had either seen or heard of. He—”
“Lutetium?”
“As I said, sir, it’s one of the rare earths. Howard’s fame is mainly because he’s developed new methods of identifying rare earths in their combined form. He identified it.”
“And got shot for his pains,” the minister said dryly. His heavy fingers drummed the table. “And this lutetium — which I’ve never heard of — was valuable enough for this Crandall to do all these things?”
“High purity lutetium — after separation, of course — ranges in price up to five thousand dollars per pound, sir. Not per kilo; per pound. And where was it found?” Da Silva smiled ruefully. “I’m afraid I wasn’t very bright there, thinking of the jungle. Howard’s theory is that it’s along the chasm bank, probably uncovered by the excavation for the bridge footings.
“As I said, sir, Sampaio worked on that job. He probably saw this odd-looking ore, remembered a man he knew was a geologist, and brought samples home. Crandall flew up there to see what was what, had a hunch he had fallen into a — a gold mine, sir — but figured he’d better get someone with more knowledge than he had to verify it. He knew very well our Brazilian laws concerning uranium in any of its forms, and he knew that personal exploitation for him was out of the question. But he wasn’t going to let a little fact like that stand between him and a fortune.”
Da Silva leaned forward. “A long time ago you asked me why the bridge was dynamited. I believe now it was either to keep the immigration from flooding the area with people until Crandall had taken out what he wanted or even possibly to hide the scars of his excavation. I’m sure he knew about the potential immigration; he had access to the information.”
“He’d still have to sell the ore. And you say it has to be separated. Which, I should judge, takes fairly substantial equipment.”
“It does, sir. But in all probability he sold it to some middleman in some neighboring country, who eventually sold it someplace else. There are a lot of people who don’t ask questions where that much money is involved.”
The minister sighed. “I’m afraid that’s true. Well—” He came to his feet, holding out his hand. “Thank you, Captain. Of course, I’ll thank you more when I get your report and make some sense out of this entire affair.”
Da Silva also arose; he shook the strong hand a moment and then dropped it. “You mean I wasn’t clear, sir?”
“You were quite clear,” the minister said. “I would suggest, however, that in your written report you try to be, if possible, even clearer. Should we ever have to present it to any international tribunal for consideration, I should not want them to go through what I just went through.”