The Gemini Agenda

by Michael McMenamin

  Mattie took the sheet and was instantly chilled. The woman was right. Half the names on that list were indeed the victims noted in her article. Mattie looked more closely at the list. There were twenty-two names and addresses, not twenty. She asked Helen Talbot about this.

  “Oh, yes. There were two more added early last week. They’re the ones at the bottom. It was strange how it happened. Professor Davenport and Mr. Laughlin told me they had a visitor and asked me to fetch the list of twenty twins. I did and when I returned, they had been joined by Dr. Lothrop Stoddard whom I knew from previous visits and someone new—a tall silver-haired man with blue, almost violet eyes. Dr. Otmar von Verschuer.”

  Mattie froze when she heard the name. Was this Dr. V.? “What happened then?”

  “Verschuer was very rude,” Talbot said. “He literally snatched the list right out of my hand and penciled in the two names. That’s how the list got to be twenty-two.”

  Helen Talbot pulled Mattie close. “I’m scared, Miss McGary. Really scared. I don’t know what’s going on. I only know that I used our I.C.E. machine to compile a list of the names and addresses of twenty people, all of them twins. Now half of them are dead. What’s going to happen to the other ten? Or twelve? Are they dead too? Or will they end up that way?”

  Mattie shook her head. “I don’t know, Helen. I honestly don’t know. But you’ve done a good thing. You really have. I’m going to track down these people first thing in the morning. Let’s pray they’re still alive. But before I go, let me ask you to do one more thing.”

  Mattie wrote down Helen’s address and phone number. Then she wrote down an address on Third Avenue and handed it to the woman. “I’ll see you in the morning. Thanks again.”

  MATTIE said goodbye to Helen Talbot and watched her get into the elevator. Then she walked over to Ted. They rode down alone in an elevator and she filled him in on everything Helen Talbot had told her. Ted scribbled in his reporter’s notebook as Mattie talked.

  “Where does Talbot live?” Hudson asked.

  Mattie gave him the address in the West Seventies and Hudson took it down.

  Mattie then gave Hudson his orders for the next day. “I’m going to call the Chief tonight and ask him to have someone start tracking down the whereabouts of the other ten names on the original list. You check out the two handwritten names. Find out what’s the story with them.”

  “What are you going to do?” Hudson asked.

  “Me? First, I’m going to have some reporters at the New York American check out Davenport and Laughlin so thoroughly we’ll know the last time they each slept with their wives or girlfriends.”

  Hudson smiled. “I’m not certain how useful that will be. But what will you be doing?”

  “I’ve got other angles to follow,” Mattie replied.

  “Like what?” Ted asked.

  Mattie sighed. “Ted, just check out the last two names. We’ll compare notes tomorrow.”

  35.

  She Had a Spare

  New York City

  Tuesday, 24 May 1932

  MATTIE took a booth at the rear of a stainless steel diner on Third Avenue in the Fifties. Cockran had been asleep when she returned home and had left a note for her in the morning explaining that he had an early breakfast meeting with his new German clients. Now she would have to wait until this evening to go over with him the new eugenics angle to the mystery. She ordered coffee and two eggs over easy and waited for Helen Talbot to arrive.

  Mattie took a sip of her coffee and started in on her eggs. She looked at her watch. Helen was already fifteen minutes late. This was not good. Mattie finished her breakfast and was certain she had been stood up. She looked at her watch again. 8:40. She decided to wait another twenty minutes, a full hour, before giving up on Helen and starting on the rest of her day.

  At ten minutes of nine, Helen Talbot walked in. Mattie caught her eye. Helen smiled and nervously walked over. She slid onto the seat opposite Mattie.

  “I apologize for being so late, Miss McGary.”

  “Please, call me Mattie.”

  “Mattie. I overslept. I was so distressed last night that I couldn’t sleep. So I took a sleeping pill. When that didn’t work, I took another.”

  “That’s all right, you’re here now. So explain to me. You work at some place called the Eugenics Record Office but your paycheck comes from the Carnegie Institution?”

  Helen nodded. “That’s correct. Half of the staff are on the Carnegie payroll. Checks for the other half are from the Rockefeller Foundation. Except my bosses.”

  “Remind me again. Who are your bosses?”

  “Dr. Charles Davenport and Mr. Harry Laughlin. Together, they run the Eugenics Record Office. Mr. Laughlin is the Eugenics Record Office’s primary spokesman. He spends a lot of his time outside the office meeting with politicians. He travels to Washington a lot.”

  “What about Davenport?”

  “He’s more the inside man. He’s in Cold Spring Harbor most of the time. He directs all the research we do. He oversees the medical staff as well.”

  Mattie raised her eyebrows. “Why would a record office have a medical staff?”

  “Oh, my, we have a lot more than just the Eugenics Record Office at Cold Spring Harbor. We have a laboratory, classrooms, patient observation rooms. The ERO is the hub, so to speak, but there are lots of spokes. We have six buildings there.”

  Mattie scribbled some notes on her reporter’s pad and ordered more coffee for both of them. Helen declined Mattie’s offer of breakfast.

  “I don’t think I could hold any food down right now,” she had said.

  “I understand.” Mattie said. “Can you tell me more about this Dr. Verschuer?”

  Helen hesitated. “Dr. V? I really don’t like him. In fact, I’m scared to death of him.” she said and shivered, hugging herself with her arms.

  “So this was the first time you met Verschuer?”

  “Yes, but I knew who he was. He first wrote to us about six months ago. It was a letter addressed to Mr. Laughlin proposing something called Project Gemini.”

  “What was that?” Mattie asked.

  “I don’t know exactly,” Helen replied. “I wasn’t able to read the entire letter. All I know is that it involved the study of twins because that’s Dr. Verschuer’s specialty. It’s something the ERO specializes in as well. We have twins visit us. We take measurements and give them tests.”

  “How do you know it’s Verschuer’s specialty?” Mattie asked.

  “Oh, it’s right there in his curriculum vitae, his C.V. he sent to Mr. Laughlin.”

  “Have you thought of going to the police?” Mattie asked.

  Helen shuddered. “Miss McGary, Mattie, something very wrong is going on. I have no proof other than the papers I saw. We’re funded by Carnegie and Rockefeller and those two foundations have a lot of influence. I may be an old maid but I’m not stupid. I’m not sticking my neck out with people who have so much power. That’s why I came to you.”

  Okay, Mattie thought. This was probably as much as she was going to get out of Helen Talbot. But there was no harm in asking. “I understand. But will you try and get some proof? A carbon copy of the original list; some other carbons from the file folders of the ten victims?”

  Helen vigorously shook her head. “Oh, I couldn’t do that, Mattie. I’m too scared. Besides, I’d never get away with it. My desk is right out in the open. Dr. Davenport’s office is on one side and Mr. Laughlin’s is on the other. Mr. Laughlin keeps duplicates of the Gemini project files but the originals are in Dr. Davenport’s office. Dr. Davenport leaves his office door open almost all the time and he would easily see me going into Mr. Laughlin’s office.”

  “What about lunch? Doesn’t he go out for lunch?” Mattie asked.

  Helen shook her head. “No. Dr. Davenport eats lunch at his desk. Every single day. And he rarely travels or takes a sick day and has never been on a vacation.”

  Mattie sighed. She needed proof. “
Do you have keys to the building and the offices?”

  “Sure,” Helen said, pulling from her purse a ring with five keys. “They’re all marked.”

  Mattie smiled. “Might I borrow them for an hour?” she asked.

  Helen hesitated. “Why?”

  “I think it’s best you not know.” Mattie said. “Do you have a cleaning crew each night?”

  “Yes, we do. Why?”

  “Again, it’s best you not know. How late do they work?”

  “From seven to ten. It’s in the contract I negotiated with the maintenance company.”

  “Tell you what, Helen,” Mattie said. “How about you meet me in the main reading room of the public library at 11:30 this morning? I’ll return your keys to you then.”

  Helen Talbot bit her lip, deep in thought. Finally, she looked up and held out the keys.

  FOLLOWING a quick lunch at the Automat, Mattie was back at her temporary desk which the New York American had provided for her while she was in town. After she left Helen Talbot and dropped off the keys at a locksmith so he could duplicate them, she had commandeered a copy editor and gave him instructions that all calls for Mattie from other Hearst reporters around the country were to be routed to him once they found anything about the other ten names on the list Helen had given to Mattie. Then she had picked up the duplicate keys two hours later and delivered the originals to Helen at the library.

  Copy editor Tony Molinari was in his fifties. Short and bald, he spoke a mile a minute.

  “Any news yet, Tony?” Mattie asked when he approached her desk.

  “Plenty,” he growled. “It’s all here.” He handed her a sheet of paper.

  Mattie looked at the notes Molinari had made. All ten names she had given Hearst last night were missing persons. Every single one had been reported to the police as missing.

  “What about the last two names? The ones that were added recently? Johansson?”

  “Hudson got that,” Molinari replied. “College students. They’re in Europe. Their landlady forwards their mail care of American Express in Munich once a week.”

  Mattie nodded and tapped her fingernails on her teeth, an unconscious habit. Until that moment, she hadn’t decided if she were really going to use the keys which she arranged to be copied that morning. She knew the law. She knew journalists had no more right than the next citizen to break the law. She knew that if she used those keys, she would be committing several crimes including trespass. But people’s lives were in danger. She needed a good lawyer.

  She also needed back up for what she had in mind tonight. “Is Hudson around, Tony?”

  “Nah, Mr. Ivy League is having lunch at the Harvard Club. La dee da,” Molinari replied, as he wiggled his pinky finger.

  Mattie left Tony and tracked Hudson down at the Harvard Club by telephone. “Ted, are you going to be at Stanhope Hall tonight?”

  “I wasn’t. I was planning to stay in town. But I can be. Why?”

  “I’ll let you know,” Mattie replied. “I’ve got research to do and I may need some help.”

  The Chrysler Building,

  COCKRAN was late. Again. Mattie was sitting at the bar in the Cloud Club waiting for Cockran to arrive. She’d finished one martini and started on a second. Already, two good-looking guys had tried to pick her up and a third at the far end of the bar, moments earlier, had paid for her second martini. Mattie raised her glass to him and nodded. The man smiled. Mattie smiled back just as Cockran entered the room. She stood up and they embraced. She could see, over Cockran’s shoulder, the other man’s smile fade. She gave him a grin and winked.

  As she hoped, Cockran noticed. “So who were you making eyes at?”

  Mattie shrugged. “Beats me. But he bought me a drink. Strange men always buy me drinks when you’re late. As you usually are.” Mattie replied.

  “And you let them?”

  “Sure. Why not? If you never show up, then I’ve got myself a spare.”

  Cockran grinned. “So you said you needed legal advice?”

  Mattie explained, telling Cockran about her confidential source and the list of twenty twins she had compiled, ten of whom now were dead. She didn’t disclose Helen’s name.

  “You saw the list?” Cockran asked as a waiter brought him a martini.

  “Yes, but it wasn’t the original. She made a new one.”

  “It doesn’t make sense. Most eugenicists have a highly inflated sense of their own importance and want to run other people’s lives. But compiling a list of twins for someone to murder? I don’t get it. Anyway, it’s one hell of a follow-up story and I can’t wait to see Harry Laughlin squirm when it hits the street. How soon will you run it?”

  Mattie frowned. “I can’t go with it yet. All I have is the woman’s story and her list. But I promised her confidentiality. Someone’s already tried to kill me over this story. Her life would be at risk if she let me use her name. I can’t do that. I need independent proof. Records.”

  “And how do you propose getting that?” Cockran asked.

  Mattie held up the duplicate set of keys she had the locksmith make earlier in the day. “She told me exactly where to find the records I need. I plan to make a visit there tonight.”

  Mattie paused, sipped the last of her martini, and smiled at Cockran.

  “Want to keep me company?” Mattie asked.

  Cockran sighed. “I’m your lawyer, Mattie. I’ll keep secret your intent to commit several felonies. But I can’t become your accomplice. There are some things lawyers shouldn’t do.”

  Mattie smiled and leaned in close, speaking in a whisper. “Like helping Bobby Sullivan kneecap that I.C.E. executive last year in Germany? Or blowing up an L.A. warehouse filled with IRA weapons the summer we met?” she said, ticking off one more finger.

  “Those were different,” Cockran replied, his voice defensive.

  “Really?” Mattie asked, arching an eyebrow.

  “Look, Mattie, don’t do this. Tell the police what that thug in Cleveland told you.”

  “I don’t think so, Bourke. We’ve been over that. He’s dead. Hudson killed him. I was there. I’m virtually an accessory. It’s not going to look good if the police find that out. Also, I can’t give them my source’s name either. Without that, no judge is going issue a search warrant for some place funded by the Carnegies and Rockefellers. So, are you coming with me or not?”

  “Not,” Cockran said as he slowly shook his head. “Look, I know I’m not the most law-abiding person. When I’m not, it’s usually because the other side is not playing by the rules and the government is either abetting it or doing nothing about it. But, so far on this story, that hasn’t happened. Go to the authorities. You have no reason to think the NYPD wouldn’t take this seriously, especially after your story on Sunday. I don’t think you should risk prison for a story. It’s not worth it. But, of course, we both know you’re going to do whatever you want. And if you do get caught, it would be better if your lawyer wasn’t there with you. So, if you go, please be careful,” Cockran said, keeping his voice low and reasonable.

  Mattie had half expected Cockran to react this way. He could be so predictable. But it was clear he was avoiding an argument in a way he wouldn’t have a year ago. The least she could do was to act the same way.

  “Ten people are dead, Bourke. Ten more, maybe twelve, are missing. I can’t go to the police and I can’t sit back and do nothing. If you won’t come with me, I understand. But at least be my lawyer. Can’t you figure out a plausible way for me to get inside that laboratory and not be charged with trespass or breaking and entering? For goodness sakes, I’m not going to steal anything. I’m only going to take photographs.”

  Cockran didn’t reply. He took a sip of his martini and stared out the window. Finally he turned back to her. “Okay, here’s how you do it. Talk to your source. Have her identify some personal object she keeps at work, it doesn’t matter what. She needs it. Have her ask you to pick it up for her as a favor.”

  �
�Something like that will work?” Mattie asked.

  “Probably not,” Cockran replied, “but at least it will give Hearst’s lawyer something to argue in your defense after you’re arrested. With Hearst’s influence, maybe that will keep you from being indicted.”

  “Thanks, sweetie, I appreciate it,” Mattie said as she stood up, leaned over and kissed Cockran on the forehead.

  “Where are you going?” Cockran asked, nodding to his unfinished drink.

  “I’m off to break the law, sweetheart,” Mattie said, smiling at Cockran’s frown. “No, that’s not it. I’m off to do that favor. I’ll spend the night at the Cedars once I’m finished.”

  Mattie smiled as she took the elevator down to the street. Cockran was predictable which is why she had called Ted Hudson beforehand. Cockran had been fine about Ted being with her last night when he couldn’t join her. Would he feel the same way about tonight when he wouldn’t join her? She wasn’t sure. If she told him, he might think she was trying to manipulate him into going against his better judgment. She’d never play a game like that with the man she loved. She would have Ted watch her back while she nailed the story. Cockran didn’t need to know that tonight, she had a spare.

  36.

  Tonight for His Client; Tomorrow for Mattie

  The Chrysler Building

  New York City

  Tuesday, 24 May 1932

  COCKRAN finished the last of his martini, staring out at the New York skyline aglow in the setting sun. He was not looking forward to an evening alone. Especially when he hadn’t anticipated an evening alone. Damn it, what was the matter with him? He should have gone with her. Eugenics! He had never hesitated to take those bastards on when they were using the legal system to sterilize innocent young women. If you didn’t stop eugenicists there, the lethal chamber of state-sanctioned euthanasia was next for the inconvenient souls who didn’t fit the perfect genetic profile these people wanted to perpetuate.

  But cold-blooded murder? Cockran thought he knew a lot about the science of eugenics. And murdering twins didn’t make sense from all he knew. Yet if Mattie’s confidential source was telling the truth, the Eugenics Record Office had created a list of twins for what might be a murderous psychopath. Why? Damned if he knew but the woman he loved — and not him — was right now trying to find out. He had spent the last week keeping her safe. And now? Well… the most he could say was that rural Long Island was not an especially dangerous place.