“...Tiger. Another copy went to Washington and if there was no protest and I was satisfied, the person was eligible for employment here. It was simply background material. Any advancement was predicated upon results shown us and not upon previous achievement... or lack of it. There were specific clearance requirements for everyone from janitorial to shop positions and they all followed the same form.”
The secretary came in then, laid down a single folder on the desk and left. I picked it up, hefted it and scanned the contents. It was thicker than the one in Hamilton’s private file, but probably because his copies were on onionskin while these had been submitted on printed bonded forms. Each one was numbered and there were eighty-four persons involved.
“How long a period of time does this represent?” I asked her.
“Three years. Those are only reports from Hamilton himself.”
“Not much of a turnover, is there?”
“Very little. Mr. Grady pays top salaries in every department with greater benefits than anyone else. It’s his policy.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“The Hamilton reports came in during the time of expansion. If you note the dates you’ll see that we reached peak employment about four months ago and have been static since, having fulfilled our needs. However, we never know what our complete capabilities really are. Further expansion may be necessary.”
I was going through the file, looking at names and places, scanning the reports without seeing anything that looked familiar. “Hamilton ever come up with any negative endorsements?”
“Generally about one out of three. Copies were sent on to Washington in the event those persons tried for positions that required security. Most of it was information of criminal records or subversive activities or associations.”
“How many have been fired?”
“None. Several were transferred to other projects at Mr. Grady’s request and subsequently replaced, but our system has been very efficient in enabling us to choose dependable employees.”
I looked up at her and gave her a crooked smile. “No doubt. How about rejects after they were cleared by Hamilton?”
“A few, but all were unsatisfactory because of not being technically qualified. Are you thinking they might have held some sort of... animosity for Mr. Hamilton?”
I laid the folder down and leaned back in the chair. “In that case they would have taken it out on you, wouldn’t they? Hamilton cleared them... you didn’t.”
“True,” she nodded, “but unlikely. You see, the ones I’m referring to were machine-shop technicians who realized they didn’t have the necessary skills and more or less disqualified themselves. They were all readily employable by other firms who demanded less than we.”
I nodded, then, “I’ll take these along and get some stats made, okay?”
“Certainly. Just take care of them.”
“You have an alphabetical list of all employees?”
“Naturally.”
“Can I see it?”
“Top drawer on your right. Directly above your feet. You’ll have to put them down to open it.” Her lips were parted and I could see the white even edges of her teeth. This time it was her eyes that were laughing at me.
I opened the drawer, flipped through the “A” file looking for Louis Agrounsky and found nothing even close.
“Can I help you with something?”
“Nope, just curious.” I pushed the drawer shut and stood up. “You don’t mind, then, if I take this file along with me?”
Camille Hunt tossed her hair in a vague gesture. “No... but remember that it is confidential information.”
“We’re both working for the same person, remember? I’ll get it back to you.”
Both of us stood up together. I hadn’t realized how tall she was until she faced me, a peculiar expression playing across her face. Her tantalizing little game was still going on, still trying to find a chink in my armor plate. I got a good picture of what everybody else had to go through, and if she couldn’t make a man sweat nobody could.
I turned my head and looked at the picture on the wall. The likeness was amazing. “I’d like to paint you,” I told her.
She followed my glance. “Oh? Do you have the talent?”
“No. None at all. I’d just like to paint you.”
“But why?”
I let out a short laugh. “Because it would be fun, kitten. I’d do it with an oiled feather.”
The corners of her eyes crinkled. “It might be an experience at that.”
“They say it can be very exhilarating.”
“I doubt it.”
“Don’t knock it if you haven’t tried it.” I walked to the door and opened it. My armed guard was still waiting in the outside office.
“So long, spider,” I said.
“So long, fly,” she told me. “Come back to the web any time.”
Doug Hamilton had his office on Lexington Avenue, an efficient place staffed by a junior partner named James Miller, two secretaries and a receptionist. An earlier call to Virgil Adams at Newark Control cleared me to see the Belt-Aire employee files as a Martin Grady representative, and although Hamilton’s own secretary was still shaken by what had happened and a little apprehensive about the whole thing, she showed me into his office and pulled out the cabinet drawer and extracted the folder on the company.
I leafed through it, scanning the data quickly, but as far as I could see it was an identical set to the one I already had. “Has anyone else been here yet?” I asked her.
“Yes... the notice, naturally, and a Mr. Randolph from a Federal bureau. They saw this file too.”
“Anything removed from it?”
“Nothing. You can see each sheet is numbered and they’re all in sequence. I really don’t know what they were looking for and there was nothing I could tell them.”
I closed the folder and handed it back. “Been here long?”
“Five years, Mr. Mann.”
“Then you remember when Hamilton took on the Belt-Aire assignment.”
“I drew up all the contracts.”
“You type the reports too?”
“Yes, all of them.”
“Then Hamilton kept notes of his research?”
“Of course, but as in all confidential matters of this sort, they were destroyed after the reports were typed. There are none left at all.”
“He never did any of his own at all?”
“Well... a few, I believe. There was a time when we were rushed with other things and he did some personally to get the job done.”
“Remember which ones?”
“I... I’m afraid not. I wish I could help... but typing reports are such daily routine... and after hundreds...”
“I understand. Just one more thing... Hamilton moved into a pretty expensive apartment not too long ago. Know where he got the money?”
For a moment she hesitated, then: “Mr. Hamilton was a bachelor. He really never had a need for anything pretentious and consequently saved his money. I know his bank account was substantial. I... rather think he... simply wanted a change.”
“It was a pretty drastic one. Did he have a woman in mind?”
She blushed, dropping her eyes. “No. I’m afraid not. He wasn’t much... for marriage.”
When she glanced up again I caught that old, old look in her eyes. Office secretary in love with her boss. It was happening all over the city and most of it earmarked ahead of time with tragedy.
“Tough,” I said.
She knew what I was thinking and shrugged. “Life.”
“The office still goes on?”
“Mr. Miller will handle things. The arrangement was provided for when he became a junior partner. Mr. Hamilton has a sister somewhere in the Midwest and she will inherit according to the terms of his will. She’s already been notified by Mr. Hamilton’s lawyer.”