Yellow-Dog Contract

Chapter Twenty-One

Roger Vullo’s office was only a short, hot walk from Jefferson Place, but I didn’t notice the heat because I was too engrossed in putting the finishing touches on my theory about what had happened to Arch Mix and why. It was a sound theory, buttressed by solid facts with only a touch of wild surmise. I intended to lay it on Roger Vullo personally, collect the other half of my ten-thousand-dollar fee, and stop by a travel agent on my way home to make reservations for Dubrovnik. Two seconds after I entered Vullo’s office I knew that I wouldn’t be making the reservations just yet.

Vullo was savaging his right thumbnail as I walked in. He looked up and said, “You’re late.” Before he went back to his nail he used the hand he was working on to gesture at the two other men in his office. “I think you know everybody,” he said.

I thought so, too. One of the men was Warner B. Gallops. The other was my Uncle Slick.

Gallops grunted at me and Slick said, “I’ve been trying to get in touch with you, dear boy.”

“I know,” I said and sat down in a chair.

“There’ve been some extremely interesting new developments,” Slick said. He reached over to Roger Vullo’s desk and handed me the morning edition of the Washington Post. I looked at it, but saw nothing that was relevant.

“What page?” I said.

“The front page,” Slick said. He nodded at Vullo and said, “I think you should play it for him first.”

“Yes, it would probably save time,” Vullo said. There was a small cassette tape recorder on Vullo’s desk. He punched a button.

The tape whirred for a few moments and then a voice came on. The voice said, “This is Arch Mix.”

There was a silence on the tape for a second or two that was interrupted only by a slight crackling sound as if some paper were being unfolded.

The voice that was Arch Mix’s went on: “To prove that this recording was made today I’m going to read you the top three headlines from this morning’s edition of the Post.”

I looked at the Post as the taped voice read the headlines. There was another pause, another crackle of paper, and then Mix’s voice continued.

“I’m in good health and I’ve been reasonably well treated. My release depends upon your doing exactly what I tell you to do. It also depends on your making absolutely sure that you do not under any circumstances contact either the police or the FBI. I can’t emphasize this too strongly. Do not contact the police or the FBI. If you do, I’ll be killed. It’s as simple as that.”

There was another brief silence and then Mix’s voice came on again. “The people who’re holding me are serious. They mean business. They want two million dollars for my release. I repeat. Two million dollars. You’re going to have to deliver it exactly when and where I tell you to. The money must be unmarked. It must be old or at least well used. Don’t try anything tricky. If you do, you’ll just get me killed.”

Mix’s voice, with its familiar deep rasp, was firm and authoritative until the last sentence when it cracked slightly. I didn’t blame him. My voice would have cracked before then. There was another pause, another noise like the rustle of paper, and when Mix’s voice resumed it sounded as if he were reading.

“What you’ve got to do is simple. After you get the money, put it in two suitcases. Rent a black Ford LTD sedan. Put the two suitcases with the money in its trunk. Make sure the trunk is locked. At four o’clock this afternoon park the car in the parking lot of the Safeway store near Chevy Chase Circle. Do not lock the car. Leave the keys on the floor under the accelerator and put a plain piece of white paper under the windshield wiper. Typing paper will do. Don’t waste time trying to see who drives off in the Ford. He won’t know anything. Follow these instructions exactly and they’ll let me go. If you don’t, they’ll kill me. They mean business.”

The tape whirred on for a few moments until Vullo reached over and pressed another button. There was a silence for several seconds that I finally broke with, “Well, he’s alive isn’t he?”

“As of this morning,” Slick said.

“Or eleven-thirty last night when the Post came off the presses,” I said. “Who’d they send the tape to?”

“Me,” Gallops said. “It was inside my paper when I went out to get it this morning.”

“You talk to Mix’s wife?” I said.

“She was the first one I talked to,” Gallops said. “She agrees with me. We do exactly what Arch wants. No cops. No FBI. But that left me with a problem so that’s why I got in touch with him.”

“Who?” I said.

“With me, dear boy,” Slick said. “The problem was, of course, the money. It would be impossible for the union to put its hands on that much cash without attracting the attention of the FBI and probably the police. So I suggested a possible solution. Mr. Vullo has agreed to supply the money.”

I looked at Vullo. “You’re going to put it up?”

“The Foundation is going to lend it to the union,” he said.

I looked at my watch. It was two forty-five. “You haven’t got much time to get to the bank.”

“Fortunately, we started quite a bit earlier this morning,” Slick said. “By ten o’clock Mr. Vullo was on the phone making arrangements for the money to be flown in from New York and Philadelphia.”

“You used several banks, huh?” I said.

Vullo nodded and then gave his thumbnail another bite. “Seven. Three in New York. Three in Philadelphia. And one here. The last of the money arrived approximately an hour ago. It’s being counted and put into the suitcases now.”

I thought about what I’d just heard and been told for a few moments and then I said, “It looks as though you’re all set.”

“Not quite,” Vullo said.

“What do you mean not quite?” I said.

“We need someone to deliver the money,” Vullo said. “I’d prefer it to be one of my associates.”

“Me?”

“I would’ve preferred both you and Murfin,” he said. “Unfortunately, Murfin’s still out of town.”

“I don’t think I want to be responsible for two million dollars,” I said.

“You won’t be solely responsible, Harvey,” Slick said. “I plan to accompany you.”

“He’s gonna look after my interests,” Gallops said. “The moment that money leaves the building it’s gonna be the union’s money. I’d like to make sure that there’s somebody besides you, Longmire, looking after it.”

“Well,” I said, “I’m flattered, but I still think I’ll have to decline.”

“Mr. Longmire,” Vullo said.

“Yes.”

“I believe that you have so far received only one half of the fee that we agreed on.”

“That’s right. Half.”

Vullo opened his desk drawer, took out a check, and used the eraser end of a yellow pencil to push it across the desk to me. “The other half,” he said.

“Providing I deliver the money, right?”

“Yes.”

I looked at the check, but didn’t touch it. Then I looked at Vullo. “You don’t want to miss the ending, do you?”

“If this is the ending,” he said. “If it isn’t, then I think the Foundation’s first report will be of remarkable interest.”

“What the hell’s he talking about?” Gallops said.

“Conspiracy,” I said.

“Fuck yes, there’s been a conspiracy. Arch got kidnapped and whoever did it wants two million bucks to let him go. That’s a hell of a big conspiracy.”

“You’re right,” I said, “but I think that Mr. Vullo was counting on something a bit juicier.”

Gallops looked at Slick. “Now what’s he talking about?”

“I’m not quite sure myself,” Slick said, “except that I think both Harvey and Mr. Vullo were anticipating other developments and ramifications.”

I looked at Gallops. “There’ll be a lot of both when they let Mix go and he finds out what you’ve been up to.”

Gallops stared at me for several seconds. Finally he said, “I got a call last night. Late last night. From St. Louis. They tell me you and Murfin were out there sticking your nose into things.”

I nodded. “It was interesting. Sort of.”

“Lemme tell you something else interesting, Longmire. When Arch disappeared, I took over and ran things the way I thought they oughta be run. Now if Arch comes back and he don’t like what I’ve done, well, that’s gonna be between Arch and me, isn’t it? Not between anybody else. Just Arch and me.” He looked at Slick. “I don’t think this is such a hot idea. I don’t need their fuckin’ money. We can raise it someplace else.”

Slick made a placating gesture. “You should remember the time factor.”

Gallops thought about that a moment and said, “Well, I still don’t like it. I don’t like people sticking their nose in where it don’t belong.”

“Mr. Gallops,” Vullo said, “I have already agreed that the Foundation would supply the ransom money. I did this because I felt that if there were a larger conspiracy involving Mr. Mix’s disappearance, his return and his own account of what had happened to him would clarify everything. However, if you feel that we’re invading your privacy, I’ll withdraw my offer to supply the ransom.”

“What you’re really saying is that you wanta talk to Arch when they let him go. Is that right?”

“That’s right,” Vullo said.

Gallops shrugged. “If that’s all you want, I don’t give a fuck if you talk to him for a month. It’ll be up to Arch. If he wants to talk to you, fine. If he don’t — what the hell, that’s your problem.”

Slick came in smoothly. He looked at his watch and said, “Now that we all understand each other I think Harvey and I had best be on our way.” He rose and looked at me, as though waiting for me to join him.

“I think I’ll pass,” I said.

“Shit,” Gallops said.

Roger Vullo stared at me, an expression of curiosity and interest on his face. “May I ask why?”

“Sure,” I said. “I think somebody should call the cops or the FBI. Let them handle it.”

“You heard Arch,” Gallops said. “Call in the cops and he gets killed.”

“Kidnappers always say that,” I said.

“And a lot of people get killed, too,” Slick said.

“Mr. Longmire,” Vullo said. “We had an agreement that you would spend two weeks on the Mix thing and then give me your report. It would seem to me that the conclusion of your report now depends on whether Mr. Mix is released by his kidnapper. You’re not being asked to rescue Mr. Mix. You’re simply being asked to help deliver the ransom safely. In exchange for that service I’m prepared to pay you the rest of your fee.” He reached over and tapped the check with his pencil.

I looked at the check. I looked at it for several moments. Then I picked it up and put it in my pocket. “I still think somebody should call the cops,” I said.