As I said, it was more like having dinner in the wing commander's house than going out to a restaurant. The house is an old Victorian mansion, the furniture is antique, and you can sit in the library with a glass of sherry while they prepare your dinner. We had roast beef and about a ton of Yorkshire pudding, and a plum pudding dessert, and sweetmeats with coffee, and finally brandy. If you're ever in Victoria, look up a place out toward Esquimault and go there. It has a replica of Shakespeare's birthplace on the grounds, and rose gardens, and I expect most anybody in Victoria can tell you how to find it. It's worth asking about.
It was quite late when the taxi brought us back. Actually it was only about ten o'clock but you have the feeling that's late in Victoria. At least I did, but Carole said, "Let's go to the Empress and soak up some more of that atmosphere."
"You soak up the atmosphere," I told her. "I want a chance to soak up some more of that gin. Or maybe another brandy. Ye gods these Canadians drink well. Makes our stuff seem like swill. Remember that wine with dinner?"
We walked up to the Empress. From the hotel you can look back and see the Parliament Building all outlined in lights. It's quite a sight. Some of this may be a show for us tourists, but it's a subtle show. Not like Fort Walton Beach.
We were about halfway through our drink when Carole pointed behind me and said, "Oh look, Paul, there's Dick and Nancy!"
I looked around. It was a bit of a shock. I mean, I expected somebody, but hardly them. They'd seemed so ordinary. Hell, I hadn't even given their names to Shearing's people. Carole stood up and they came over, and we insisted they join us.
"Can't say I'm surprised," Dick said, "because we thought we might run into you people here. You gave us the idea of coming again, you know, talking about your vacation."
"Yes," Nancy put in. "We always wanted to come back, and when Carole told us she was coming with you, I bugged Dick until he said he'd bring me."
I said something about how it was nice to see them again, and Carole said something else to the same effect. The waiter was right there. That's another thing about the Empress, the waiters aren't servile, but they do act like it's a pleasure to serve you. There's an art to that.
I ordered drinks for all of us, and when the waiter left, Dick said, "That's nice of you Paul, but I better tell you we're on such a short budget this trip I can't afford to stand a round. We had just enough for one drink each in this place."
"Forget it," I told him. "I was a student myself once. Hell, I'll put the boat in at Camano and look over the development I'm supposed to be consultant on, and charge off half this trip on my income taxes. Nice to have some company."
Carole said something about the dinner we'd just had, to change the subject, and the next half hour was spent with the girls telling each other all the great things they'd done. They finally ran down, and I asked Dick; "How'd you get over? Bring your car?"
"No, I don't think it would make it that far. We came on the ferry direct from Seattle. Have to go back tomorrow."
"Oh, out of time?" I asked him.
"No, money. Just can't afford it. I'll be glad when I'm working and can be a man of leisure like you."
"Paul, I just had a thought," Carole said. "Why don't you invite Dick and Nancy to sail back with us? You said you were leaving tomorrow."
"Yeah," I said. "That's a good plan. You people have a place to stay tonight?"
They nodded. "Little hotel up the street. We came here for a drink, but . . ."
"Okay, look, you meet us here tomorrow at noon," I told them. "You cash in your return tickets for the ferry, and we'll start back in the afternoon. I want to get out of shipping lanes before dark. We can sail across to Orcas, put in at one of the San Juans for the night, and cruise around the Islands Saturday. Victoria always gets too American touristy on weekends anyway." I figured as long as I was out as bait I might as well attract everything interested. The trouble was, I still couldn't see these kids as enemy agents, any more than Carole. Hell, suppose her boxes really were films, and talk about our trip really had made Dick and Nancy decide to come up here? Suppose even that they were fishing for a free trip home. Why not? I might have done the same thing myself when I was in their situation. Oh, well, it looked like a fun trip, if a little restricted on the sex. There isn't much privacy on the Witch.
The weather was fine the next day, except there wasn't any wind. I dashed off a quick note for Shearing when I checked out with the harbor master, and walked out wondering if I'd bump into the mountie type who'd be along to collect it. I didn't. I had yet to see any sign of the surveillance we were supposed to be under.
We motored out of the harbor and turned east to the San Juans. The wind came up later, and by mid-afternoon there was a real blow. Dick and Nancy whooped around the deck, Carole got to take the tiller and show off for her friends, and the whole thing was fun, even when the girls dumped our dinner in the bilges halfway through cooking and had to start over. Before they did I showed them how to latch the tops of the pressure cookers.
After dark we anchored in a protected cove. A hundred feet away you could see thirty-knot winds lash up a sea against the tide, big whitecaps and foam blowing in the moonlight. Inside our cove it was calm, the trees on shore blocked off most of the wind, and in the bright light we could even see down into the water. We all sat on deck and drank Irish coffee, and laughed about the antics of a couple of current congressmen trying to get reelected.
The next day it was clear, and the wind was still blowing, but not so hard. We spent the day cruising around the Islands, working south but in no hurry to get there. At one uninhabited island we anchored and rowed ashore in the dinghy, and as the tide went out, the girls found some clams. We steamed them for dinner. After it was dark, I took turns with Carole sailing on south so that we could reach Seattle in daylight the next day. We alternated at the tiller until two or three in the morning, then found an anchorage in Admiralty Inlet a little north of Bush Point. When we went below we noted that Nancy and Dick seemed to be asleep in the double bunk, so I had to go back to my quarter berth.
With the wind and tide with you, it's not such a very long run to Seattle from Bush. We didn't rush it, and by four we were in the locks. I filled out the lock papers completely, adding Dick and Nancy's names on the back and marked the form the special way I had been told to. We were under power in the locks, but I had left the sails up hoping for enough wind to sail down the canal. There was too much traffic, though, and the drawbridges don't always open as fast as they are supposed to, so we furled the sails and lashed them to the deck. There's always something about a sailboat with her sails furled. She looks better that way than if you take them off and stow them in their bags.
We came up to the Fremont Bridge and it opened for us, and we were in Lake Union. It always gives me a feeling of power to make the bridges open and stop traffic. Very few powerboats are big enough, of course. Once when I was being towed alongside a fifty-foot powerboat, my boat at that time being a twenty-two-foot sloop, they had to open the Fremont Bridge for me. The skipper of the powerboat told me that in ten years sailing they'd never opened it for him. He obviously enjoyed looking at the traffic piled up waiting for us to go through. It was all local traffic, because a hundred feet above is the Aurora Highway Bridge.
Dick suggested we take them directly to their houseboat, which wasn't far from the bridge. I didn't want to, but there wasn't any plausible reason why I shouldn't. I asked about the docking facilities, but they were adequate, and the fact was that as they lived just across the lake from where I kept Witch, it was much shorter getting them home by water than by land. They lived in a complex of houseboats off Western Avenue. These weren't like the ones where the student party had been. The Western Avenue houseboats are mostly owned by the people living in them, and are painted and kept up. They even have a community-maintained raft, with dirt piled on it, that they grow flowers on. There is also a landing float where Dick and Nancy got off. I took a quick check to see that
the film boxes were still in their locker, while Carole helped them get their luggage ashore. Carole must have taken the paper off while I was rowing people around in the dinghy, because brown plastic boxes with metal corner reinforcements were now in the locker. The boxes were closed with straps.
Carole and I motored back to our berth and tied Witch up. "The devil with it hon," I said. "Let's just get the boat secure and go home. I can clean her up in a couple of days. Right now I want a shower and a little rest."
She agreed. We'd had a good time, but we were both beat. I got our wet things and dirty clothes out, and Carole packed her films in a laundry bag. We left everything else.
It was twilight when we reached home. I unlocked the door, and we went in through the hall and kitchen to the dining room, which functions as a kind of central room to my house. I dumped what I was carrying on the floor and started to stretch, when men came out of the bedroom and living room. Louis Alessandro was the last one in.
Alessandro didn't say anything. There was a uniformed Seattle policeman, three plainclothesmen, and Alessandro. One of the plainclothesmen held out a Treasury badge and said, "Paul Crane and Carole Halleck, I have here a warrant for your arrests and a search warrant for these premises and your personal effects. I must warn you that anything you say may be taken in evidence against you, and you have a right to remain silent."
Carole gasped and clutched the laundry bag tighter. Alessandro didn't act like he'd ever seen me before. I had had no warning of this, and didn't have the remotest idea of what I should do, but it seemed that maintaining my cover would be a good idea. I looked at the Treasury agent and said, "May I ask what the charge is?"
"Oh, we have several of them," he said. "Suspicion of smuggling, suspicion of violation of state and federal narcotics laws, you name it. May I see what's in those bags you brought in?"
There wasn't any point in making a scene, but Carole tried to hold on to her laundry bag. The uniformed cop took it.
"Narcotics," Carole said. "What in the world are you talking about?" As the officer fished out the film boxes, she said, "Since when is it a crime to bring films home with you from a trip?"
"Do you acknowledge ownership of these boxes?" the T-man asked her.
"Don't answer him, Carole," I said. He turned to me and said, "Okay, buddy, either you keep quiet or we separate you. Have it your way, but the next thing you say like that, I'll take you in the other room."
Carole didn't pay any attention anyway. "Yes, they're mine," she told them. "Paul had nothing to do with bringing them here. He didn't even know about them. Sure I brought some films into the country. We're supposed to have freedom of speech in this country, and look what happens when we bring in some pictures of what our airplanes are doing over there. Freedom of speech, yet. Five strong men to take some films away from one girl."
One of the plainclothes guys and the harness bull opened the straps of the film cans. They got the straps open on each one before they took the lid off the first box. In the box was a round film can, sealed with tape. They had to tear the tape, which was some kind of plastic stuff, to open the can. Inside the can was an ordinary spool of film.
Each box was opened in turn, and inside was the same can, and after the tape was torn off the can, there was nothing in it but a spool of film, except that the thicker box had two spools of film. There wasn't a sign of anything else.
"God damn it," Alessandro exploded. He charged over and stood right in front of me, his fists clenched, and yelled in my face, "Where's the stuff, you son of a bitch."
It came to me this had to be an act. I've heard the training they put FBI men through, and I never heard of one losing his cool like this. But if it was an act, it was damn convincing. I still wasn't sure he wouldn't push my teeth in. We were about the same size, but I hadn't any doubt that with his training he could take me apart. "What stuff?" I asked as innocently as I knew how. He actually clenched his fist. "Hold it, Louis," the Treasury guy said. Alessandro stood there glaring at me and the T-man looked over at Carole and said, "You admit that this material is yours, and that you brought it into the country undeclared and uninspected, acting without the knowledge of the captain of the vessel on which you were traveling?"
Carole nodded. The T-guy didn't think that was good enough, and asked his question again.
"Yes," she shouted. "Yes, yes, yes! Paul didn't know about it. I put it on the boat when he was ashore. It's all mine and you can't accuse him of anything."
I started to say something. She was being noble as hell about it, and I felt like a worm. I didn't though. If she and the government people were both trying to accomplish the same thing, why should I interfere? There had to be more to it than that.
"All right," the Treasury agent said. "Take her downtown. We can hold her on the smuggling charge anyway."
The plainclothesman who hadn't said anything took out handcuffs and clipped them to Carole and then himself. Then I looked at him again. He was wearing a coat just like the topcoat I was carrying over my arm when I came into the house, and he had on my hat out of my closet. He was my height, and in the dark it would be very easy to mistake him for me. Anybody seeing him handcuffed to Carole in the near dark outside would believe they had arrested both of us, if they played it right, and it was too much to be a coincidence. It figured that they would make it look like I was going downtown too. The other plainclothesman and the uniformed policeman took them out, the uniform leading the way. The boss T-man brought up the rear. When we heard the outside door close, Harry Shearing came out of my bedroom.
Alessandro still looked mad as hell. "Where is the stuff, damn it?" he demanded.
I told them about Dick and Nancy, gave their descriptions, and described the houseboat complex they lived in. I didn't know the address of the houseboat, but I had watched them until they went into one, so I could say which one it was. Alessandro rushed off to the phone, but Shearing just poured some coffee, handed me a cup, and poured himself some.
"The place is clean, Paul. We went over it ourselves. So we can talk. You've done some good work."
I started to answer, but there was an explosion outside. I ran for the window, but before I could get there, Shearing grabbed me and threw me into a chair. He hadn't seemed to use any particular effort to do it, but I found myself sitting down. "Don't be stupid," he said. He was quite calm. "Stay there and stay away from windows. I don't want you seen." Then he broke and ran for the front door. Alessandro had dropped the telephone and was out just in front of him.
I sat there for a minute, but it wasn't easy. I could hear people running and shouting outside, and cars stopping in the street. Finally I couldn't take anymore and went to the hall. They had left the front door open, but it was closed far enough that you couldn't see the stairs from outside. I went up the stairs on my knees so I couldn't be seen through the stair window, and went into the upstairs front bedroom I didn't use anymore. It had lacy curtains, and with the door closed and the lights off nobody could see me when I looked out. The only trouble was I couldn't see a thing. There were several cars stopped in front of the house, and people were running toward a spot down the street past where I could see. That didn't tell me any more than I knew before, so I made it back down the stairs and sat where Shearing had pitched me. It seemed to take forever before I heard a siren, then another. Finally Shearing and Alessandro came back in alone.
"What in God's name happened?" I asked.
Alessandro was cursing under his breath. He turned to Shearing and said, "You and your goddamned clever plans. One of my men, one of yours, a Treasury agent, and a cop. Not to mention the girl. And the stuff's loose in the city. That's it, Shearing. That's the end of it." He put the telephone receiver, which I had forgotten, back on the hook, then picked it up and dialed a number.
I shouted at Shearing, "What in hell is going on?" but he didn't say anything. Alessandro got his number and said, "Alessandro here. Give me Prescott." It didn't take a moment. "Prescott? Run it. The
whole thing. I want every damn pusher and agent rounded up. Get started organizing the city and county people, I'll be right down." He hung up, glared at Shearing, and when nobody said anything, went out. We heard the door slam.
As calmly as I could, I said, "Will you please tell me what is happening? What was that noise? What did he mean, 'Not to mention the girl'?"
"You were beginning to fall for that kid, weren't you? She's dead, Crane. They're all dead. The cop, Benson, Carruthers, Louis' man, and the girl. Somebody put a hand grenade in the car just as they were closing the doors."
"Good God, what for? Who?"
"One of the dope gang. A hophead. Louis got him just as he grabbed the film cans and started to run. They took him downtown, but they won't get anything out of him. He won't know anything, except maybe about the dope operation and who sent him, and they won't get that out of him either. We might, but now that he's under arrest by the regulars he'll never talk. With luck he'll get life, which means about seven years in this state, the way the courts have been handling it."
Red Heroin Page 10
