I shook my head. ‘No … not so far.’
‘Delmar’s a defence attorney in New York. He disappeared while looking for a relative of his: his sister-in-law, Elise Reichman.’
‘So you’re really looking for two missing people?’
Hammett nodded. ‘Elise went missing a few weeks before Delmar. Delmar’s wife is German. Her family came to New York just after Hitler took power; they could read the writing on the wall … but the problem was, Elise’s husband refused to come with them.’
‘And Elise stayed with her husband.’
‘Yes. But after he died last year, Elise wrote to Delmar and pleaded for help in getting out of Germany. Things there had gone from bad to worse for anyone with Jewish heritage.’
‘Is this where the Refugee Relief Fund comes in?’ I said. It had to be.
‘How do you know about them?’ said Hammett with deep suspicion.
‘It was the first meeting you had listed in your surveillance log.’ I wasn’t giving him any more details than necessary. I waved the revolver to remind him. ‘Keep on going.’
Hammett scowled but complied anyway. ‘Before Delmar could do anything, he got a letter from Elise saying that the Refugee Relief Fund had contacted her and arranged for her escape. In her last letter, Elise said the Fund had brought her safely to Paris and was arranging for her sea passage over.’
‘Did Elise arrive?’
‘There’s evidence that someone who answers her physical description arrived at the Refugee Relief Fund headquarters in New York. But after three weeks had gone by with no word from Elise, Delmar went to the Fund headquarters. They said she’d arrived in New York the week before but that they didn’t know where she’d gone after that.’
‘But they’d have to have some idea?’
‘No, not really,’ asserted Hammett. ‘The Refugee Relief Fund runs on a shoestring budget. Their mission is plain and simple — all their time and effort goes straight into getting European refugees out of danger and over here.’
‘So what did Delmar do next?’
‘He talked to everyone at the Fund who’d dealt with Elise’s case file. Finally, Delmar discovered that the very same day Elise had walked off the ship in New York she’d been taken over to the Hope Foundation for a job interview.’
Hmm. ‘And how do the Refugee Relief Fund and the Hope Foundation interconnect?’
‘The Fund gets a lot of donations from the Hope Foundation. And, according to the Fund, when the Hope Foundation can manage it they try to find work in their organisation for some of the refugees.’
‘What’s the Hope Foundation?’
Hammett said, disbelieving, ‘You’ve never heard of them?’ The wary expression was back.
‘No, mate,’ I said using my normal Australian accent. ‘I’ve been living in Sydney … in Australia for years and just came back this year.’
Hammett was puzzled but seemed to accept that. ‘The Hope Foundation is a philanthropic organisation started six years ago by some pretty famous people. Everyone from film stars, industrialists, through to members of President Roosevelt’s own cabinet.’ He paused. ‘You have heard of President Roosevelt, haven’t you?’ he said sarcastically.
I ignored that.
‘Their mission is to stem the worst effects of the Great Depression … operate soup kitchens, hospitals, literacy programs …’ He seemed troubled. ‘Actually, I’m feeling pretty ambivalent about investigating them. I hope that my suspect is working by himself and for his own motives.’
‘So your friend Delmar went to the Hope Foundation and …?’ I prompted.
‘At first they said they’d never heard of Elise. Then, after a lot of pushing, Delmar got in to see the head of the Foundation, Floyd Nugent. He was visiting from their headquarters in LA.’
Floyd Nugent — Susan’s friend … that was the first name in Hammett’s logbook. So far Hammett’s story lined up okay. He was telling the truth.
‘Nugent looked into the matter and told Delmar that the mix-up was caused because Elise was offered a job but never turned up for the first day. That meant she never actually got onto their payroll system. So Delmar went back to the Refugee Relief Fund and started interviewing every refugee he could find who’d come over on the ship with Elise. None had seen her since the day she first went missing and most of them had never even heard of the Hope Foundation. Then Delmar found a witness who knew of two other refugees who’d been interviewed by the Hope Foundation that same day. Both had come over on the same ship as Elise and both had been offered jobs at a light manufacturing plant in some Texan backwater called Burning Bush.’
‘So Elise could be at the same plant?’
‘That’s what Delmar thought. But when he got to the plant in Texas he was refused entry at the gate. They said they’d never heard of Elise, or the two other refugees. That’s when Delmar realised something strange was going on.’
‘Yeah.’
‘While Delmar was arguing with the guard he saw Floyd Nugent drive out of the plant. And Nugent saw him but refused to stop. When Delmar asked about the plant back in town no one would even talk to him. That’s when Delmar rang me.’ Guilt spread across his hard-edged features. ‘I got there two days later but Delmar was gone. I couldn’t even find anyone who’d admit to seeing him. There were no hotel records, nothing …’
Hammett hunched as he spoke. ‘On my way out to the plant I was run off the road, and the next day the red-neck sheriff personally escorted me to the train station. I knew if I’d stayed I’d be killed.’
Why would three refugees be so important?
I studied Hammett. ‘So you’ve been investigating Floyd Nugent ever since?’
‘He’s my only lead. Something big is going on but I can’t get a clear angle on it. When I went back to New York the witness Delmar had spoken to — the one who’d told him about the plant in Texas — had disappeared too.’
Bloody hell. What had Earl got himself mixed up in now?
‘Have you been to the FBI about this?’
‘Are you joking?’ snorted Hammett. ‘The FBI already has a file on me two inches thick! I support union causes so they say I’m a communist. And they don’t like Delmar for the same reason! If I went to them about this they’d laugh their heads off.’ He paused. ‘Then they’d probably arrest me for harassing a prominent charity like the Hope Foundation.’
He shook his head. ‘Nooo, sista, I have to find solid proof before I can do anything at all.’
I thought for a moment. ‘What about the other two refugees? Why did they get special job offers?’
Hammett shrugged. ‘I don’t know … Delmar didn’t say and the witness is missing.’
‘What about Elise? What was so special about her?’
‘Well, she’s very beautiful …’
I resisted the urge to scream. ‘What did Elise Reichman do? Did she have a career? Where did she work in Germany?’
He wrinkled his brow as though wondering why a woman’s career would be that important. ‘I know she lived in Berlin … if we can find a phone I can find out the rest.’
There was a telephone booth on the next corner.
Hammett rang Delmar’s wife. He was frowning as he hung up.
‘Well?’
‘She said up until last year Elise had been a research scientist in Berlin.’
‘What kind of scientist?’
‘A nuclear physicist.’
Hot damn!
A German nuclear scientist had gone missing in 1939 …
44
THE COLUMBIA LIBRARY
‘I need to know what this Floyd Nugent wants with Earl,’ I said. ‘And how the gang from that house in the San Fernando Valley connects into it all.’
I didn’t mentioning freaking out about a German nuclear scientist going missing at this particular time in history!
‘Can’t help you,’ said Hammett dismissively. Once he’d worked out I knew less than he did he was itching to escape. ‘I have t
o get over to Glendale now. Floyd Nugent’s due for a meeting at the KHJ radio station and I want to see who else turns up.’
Damn.
‘But if you want to find out how Floyd and the gang connect, then you gotta check out the basement of the Columbia Library in Santa Monica.’ Hammett was tossing me a bone.
‘You’re joking … a library?’
‘You really haven’t heard of the Hope Foundation, have you?’ said Hammett, contemptuous of my lack as a PI. ‘One of their major programs is the Literacy Drive. They’ve put big new libraries in every major city across America.’
‘And just how is that useful to me?’ The last thing I wanted to do was to waste any more time on useless detours.
‘I’ve seen Nugent meet with the gang in the basement of the Santa Monica branch twice now.’ Hammett mocked me. ‘They must go there for a specific purpose, don’t you think?’
I disregarded the jibe. ‘Okay, that sounds promising.’
‘There’s some kind of meeting that goes on in the library basement every Thursday night. It’s guarded every day, all day, and I’ve seen some pretty high-profile people, including the mayor, go down there.’
Hmm. Earl, what have you done?
I returned Hammett’s gear and he drove off for Glendale.
I used the public phone on the corner to try to get hold of Honeycutt but ended up leaving a message with Eve. I told her Devereaux would be waiting at the Atlanta train depot set and she promised to get my message to him straight away. I said I’d meet him at the studio in an hour or so and, just in case, I gave her the address of the Columbia Library.
I drove to Santa Monica Boulevard and turned left, heading for the ocean. Five minutes later I was parked in front of a two-storey, new-looking brick building. Today may’ve been Sunday but the library was open.
Hammett said the door to the basement was at the back. I made my way past the front desk, staffed by three librarians uniformed in crisp blue and white gingham dresses finished with a tidy red collar. They radiated the type of stern confidence that inferred that their universe was in correct alphabetical order, but what about yours?
Directly behind them were the rows of books, fiction, non-fiction, technical — all newish. Out the other side of the rows of books was a section full of equally orderly rows of desks. There, serious students of all ages were making notes and grimacing into their new textbooks.
Around the eager scholars, the walls held optimistic posters touting self-improvement and individual initiative. The one for the Hope Boys’ Brigade showed a fancier version of the Boy Scouts’ uniform with a teenager showing a young boy how to start a campfire. Next to it was a poster for the Hope Women’s Club, an organisation that promised to turn girls into happy smiling women and happy smiling women into good mothers.
Underneath, the caption said ‘A Strong Family is the Cornerstone of a Strong Nation’.
On the opposite wall a typed notice proclaimed that the annual applications for the Hope Scholarship to UCLA had opened. And, yes, if you had successfully completed the Columbia Citizenship Studies then you too could apply.
Looking around, there was enough hope for everyone here …
The place bristled with it.
The rest of the walls were covered in flags: the USA, Canada, Mexico, Brazil … By the door to the next room there was a colourful poster advertising Pan Americanism. It showed the north and south continents of America as covered in nations of happy smiling people waving at the onlooker.
The bottom of the poster exclaimed ‘Think Big, Think Ahead. Think Unity’.
Sure it sounded positive, but my gut told me otherwise.
The rear door opened into a long corridor, which had classrooms on either side. The first one on the left was full of teenagers settled in comfortable chairs facing a radiogram in the back corner. They were all taking notes. On the open door there was a list of educational programs broadcast by Radio KHJ.
A softly persuasive voice wafted out from the radiogram. ‘This is the time for our American heroes to rise up. This great country has suffered enough — it is time that we reach beyond our differences and hold true to that which we all have in common …’
Without exception the teenagers were all nodding, like good little clones.
In the next classroom to the right there were big red letters of the alphabet hung across the walls. The name on the door said Literacy Class. Further down, the classroom was marked Citizenship Class. The poster on the wall next to the door advertised subjects in American history and politics.
Hmm. This place was setting off my alarm bells like a fire station on cracker night.
But I didn’t know exactly why.
The corridor ended in a common room with a lounge area, a sink and a stove for making hot drinks. It was empty. The door at the far end of the room had a sign saying ‘Private — No Entry’. I opened the door but came to sudden halt.
There was a burly guard about my age standing at attention outside the heavy metal door marked ‘Basement’.
‘Sorry, ma’am,’ he said. ‘Only staff past this point.’
I smiled as innocently as I could manage at short notice. ‘Sorry about that. I was looking for a public bathroom.’
He smiled back with interest and gave me directions.
I retreated back into the lounge area as he shut the door behind me.
How to get past the guard and where to hide his body?
An iron fist clenched my shoulder and spun me around. ‘Don’t you ever leave me hanging like that, Dupree!’
It was Honeycutt in a roiling rage. His face was white and drawn under his tan, and his eyes were circled in charcoal.
Yeah, Honeycutt hadn’t slept last night … at all. I wondered if Matz had appeared in his nightmares too.
I jerked an elbow into his rib and nodded at the door. He got the message.
‘How did you get here that fast?’ I whispered. He must’ve flattened the Speedster’s accelerator.
Honeycutt ignored that. ‘What the hell are you doing wasting time in a library, Dupree?’
‘Trust me, Honeycutt, we need to get down the basement stairs behind that door. But there’s an armed guard.’
‘An armed guard in a library?’ I could almost see his ears prick up with interest. Finally he was in his real element — espionage. Then Honeycutt narrowed his eyes. ‘I knew you were lying to me last night! What happened, Dupree? How did you get another lead so fast?’
‘Look, I’ll explain later, but we need to see what’s downstairs in the basement first!’
Curiosity forced him to put his rant on hold. ‘What’s on the other side of that door?’
‘Just one rather dumb but muscular guard.’
He scanned the lounge area, doing exactly the same sums I had before he arrived. There was a cleaning closet in one corner. He opened it, grabbed two tea towels, stuffed them inside his shirt, then shut the common room door that led back into the corridor.
‘Stay here, Dupree,’ he ordered.
Honeycutt opened the rear door and went through. ‘Hey, buddy, is this where the men’s room —’
There was a heavy clunk.
When I heard a key in a lock and a heavy door creaking open I went through.
The guard was unconscious on the floor.
‘Quick, Kannon, go down and check the basement is empty,’ ordered Honeycutt. ‘I’ll stand guard here.’
It was deserted so we carried the guard downstairs and relocked the door behind us. Honeycutt took wire out of his pocket, tied the guard’s hands and feet, and then gagged him with the tea towels. Honeycutt left him neatly stacked in one corner.
Downstairs was no basement …
It was a purpose-built meeting room with a big difference. There was a carved wooden podium near the stairs and in front of that was a U-shaped tiered seating arrangement that could probably seat fifty.
But it was the embellishments that worried me.
If this was a clas
sroom then I was betting the lessons were a wee more dramatic than the ones delivered upstairs. Whatever went on here had nothing to do with libraries or literacy.
The walls were all hung with expensive purple velvet drapery but the back wall had a big black key appliquéd onto the centre of it. The same key symbol was also carved into the polished wood podium.
Honeycutt stood behind the podium reading a large board mounted high on the wall, in pride of place.
Across the board in gold letters was printed:
The Oath of the Society of the Iron Key
1. We pledge our allegiance and the allegiance of our sons to the death.
2. We pledge to be ready when given the signal.
3. We pledge our silence and swift retribution to those traitors who would betray our cause.
‘To be ready to do what?’ I asked. ‘Have you heard of this Iron Key society?’
‘No.’ Honeycutt didn’t like to admit that. ‘But they must be small time. There were a lot of radical new political groups formed during the Depression. As well as the usual fascists and communists, there was every different blend of political ideas you could think of. Hard times push people to radical solutions; it’s human nature.’
‘I was told there was a Columbia Library in every major city? I wonder …’
Honeycutt’s face showed just enough uncertainty to unsettle me.
I scanned the room. Next to the podium was another door. It was locked, so I used the guard’s keys to open it.
I looked in then said over my shoulder, ‘Take a peek at this, Honeycutt, and tell me you still think they’re small time.’
Honeycutt stood at my shoulder and cursed softly.
There were specially mounted wall racks holding enough rifles to arm several hundred combatants, with sufficient boxes of ammunition to last them for a small war.
Further back there was a mounted machine gun, a bazooka and several boxes of grenades. Behind them was a stack of dynamite.
On the back of the door was a detailed map of Los Angeles with the Town Hall, all the major utilities and all the radio stations circled.
‘Who the hell are these people?’ said Honeycutt, enraged. ‘And why have I never heard about them?’
Hoodwink Page 38
