“It was the chance meeting with Hatcher that gave Anderson away,” I said. “Hatcher said he knew Anderson, or at least implied it.”
“That may be so. Perhaps his letter will give us the clue we need, the reason for his death.”
Laura Eaton said: “Goodness, I could do with a cup of coffee. My head’s amply spinning. What about you gentlemen?”
We said we would, and she started for the kitchen. Before she disappeared Gordon said: “What time is your morning mail delivery?”
“Usually about nine o’clock. Do you think he’ll be back?”
“I don’t know. He’s a tricky customer. He may be too wary to try it again. I’m going to wait and find out.”
“I’m going to wait, too,” I said. “If I may borrow Miss Eaton’s chesterfield and gun for the rest of the night.”
“You may,” she said from the kitchen door. In a minute there was the sound of water rushing from a faucet into a coffee percolator.
We waited in silence for a while. My anger had drained away leaving dregs of shame in my system, and some alarm at my temerity. I felt considerable awe of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. And I realized how easily he could have shot me.
My glance fell on an electric record-player beside a lamp in the corner. The albums of records in its cabinet switched my mind to a track that it had been following earlier that day. I said:
“I realize that you have a low opinion of my investigative talents. I realize that you’re somewhat justified, and that the smartest thing I’ve done was to go to the FBI. But I have an idea that I think you should hear.”
“It was partly my fault that we worked at crosspurposes,” he admitted. “But I don’t see how it could have been helped. What’s your idea?”
“It’s nothing better than a hunch. It may be completely screwy. Hefler must have told you that secret information was leaking out of Hawaii to the enemy. At least that’s what I was told.”
“I knew it before Hefler told me. We’ve known about it for a couple of months.”
“But you haven’t been able to put your finger on the leak. Teddy Trask, the magician who put on an act in the club car that first afternoon, told me about a code which he and his partner had developed–”
“I heard him talking about it. I was there.”
“That’s right, you were. The principle of that code could be used by an enemy agent working in a commercial broadcasting station. Sue Sholto, the girl who was hanged–”
“I know about her,” he said impatiently. “How could it be used?”
“Sue Sholto broadcast regularly from Honolulu, and there was nothing to prevent Japanese subs from picking up her broadcasts. She could have sent out information in the course of an apparently innocent program.”
“Commercial broadcasts are monitored. We would have caught it.”
“Not if she used a code like Teddy Trask’s. She could mark her records with a needle so that they’d give out a little click at prearranged intervals. The time elapsed between clicks would have a definite meaning. A monitor, if he noticed the sounds at all, would think it was nothing but a worn record.”
“I admit that’s possible. But you’ve got nothing to go on.”
“That’s why I’m telling you. I can’t check on it myself. But you can teletype your office in Honolulu and ask them to examine the record library in the radio station.”
“It’s worth trying, I suppose. It sounds outlandish. But their system must be outlandish, whatever it is, or we’d have gotten on to it long ago.”
Laura Eaton came back with coffee and sandwiches. Gordon drank his coffee in a hurry and got up to leave:
“I’m going over to the Marine Base and put that dispatch on the wires. It’s not likely that Anderson will come back before morning anyway.”
“I hope he does,” I said. “I’ve gone to target practice on the fantail every afternoon for a year.”
“When I come back I won’t come into the house. Lay low for an hour after the mailman gets here. Keep the doors and windows locked.”
Laura Eaton retired to her own room. After turning out the lights I lay down on the chesterfield with her revolver in my hand and waited for morning. I dozed intermittently, held on the edge of sleep by coffee and fear. Morning came very slowly, leaking between the slats of the Venetian blinds, pale and bluish like watered milk. By seven o’clock the coffee and fear had worn off and I fell into a light sleep. I awoke with a start at nine when three letters plopped through the slot in the door and slid across the waxed floor.
I crawled across the floor to the letters keeping my head below the level of the windows. Hatcher’s posthumous message was among them.
I returned to the chesterfield with it, ripped open the envelope, and read at the end of the letter:
“P.S. – I should have mailed this before I left K.C., I want it to get to you before I do or there’ll be hell to pay. But a bunch of the boys – remember Alvin S. and Donnie Hope? – kept me in a bar until the last minute and I didn’t have a chance. Anyway I got me a bottle to nurse on the train. I met a naval ensign who seems like a right guy and he had some good bourbon but it’s all gone now. He lent me this pen in case you wonder why the ink is different – I don’t know what happened to mine. Christ, it was the one you sent me, too.
“There’s a guy on the train I don’t like the looks of. Remember that white man I told you about that was handling black market rice in Nanking when the Japs were there? This guy is either him or his brother, and I’m going to find out which. This guy is older and fatter but if it isn’t the same guy then it’s a case of identical twins. He says his name is Anderson. I don’t think he knows me.
“Well, so long for now. You’ll hear from me when I get to L.A., and I’m going to do my damnedest to get to see you before I ship out. I should have written before but you know how it is. Bob and Dee send their regards. R.H.”
12
I WAITED for another hour, ready to shoot Anderson if he appeared. Punctually at ten o’clock there was the sound of feet on the verandah and I looked through the Venetian blind and saw Gordon at the door. Before I opened it to him Laura Eaton came out of her bedroom fully dressed. She had the marks of sleeplessness on her face.
“I think we can assume that he won’t be back,” Gordon said. “But I’ll have the local police keep an eye on your house, Miss Eaton. Just in case.”
“Did Rodney’s letter come?” she said.
“I hope you don’t mind my opening it. There’s not much doubt that Anderson killed him. And dragged me under the train.”
I handed her the letter, and Gordon read it over her shoulder.
“May I have this letter?” Gordon said.
“Of course. Won’t you let me make you some more coffee?”
“Thank you. But I’ve got to get going.”
“Did you send your message to Honolulu?” I said.
“Yes. I told them to rush an answer. If you need to get in touch with me, call our central office in Los Angeles. I’ll give them your name. Where will you be?”
“I’ve got a reservation at the Grant in San Diego. I’m going to San Diego today.”
“I may see you there. I understand Hector Land’s ship is in San Diego, and I intend to go aboard her.”
“So do I.”
He shook hands with me and Laura Eaton and went out the door. I wondered when he slept.
I turned to Laura Eaton and asked if I could use her phone.