by Noel Hynd
His fortune and the family standard passed to his three children.
Wilhelm II was an adventurer; he died in the ninety-day war with Spain in 1898. A daughter, Theresia, had been endowed with thick horse like features and was reputed to be the ugliest woman in New York society.
She never married. Childless, she died in 1932, her share of the fortune reverting to the family.
The only other child, the youngest, was Joseph. Joseph led an otherwise normal and uneventful life for a man of his extreme wealth.
His only quirk was in the tradition of some wealthy European families-marrying his first cousin, Lora Nuss. They had a daughter and son. Victoria and Arthur.
"There's not too much to be said about Victoria that you couldn't already guess," said Zenger. He glanced to the floor, then back up at Thomas Daniels.
"Her mind never progressed past age nine. Arthur? Arthur was just the opposite. As shrewd and cunning a son of a bitch as you'd ever imagine. He attempted to rearrange the family fortune' "
"Rearrange?"
"Chemicals" said Zenger.
"From the time he was a boy he had a genius for chemistry. In the mid-thirties he began his own chemical firm. Was doing extensive business between here and Europe. Don't ask where in Europe." Zenger grimaced.
"Where in Europe?"
"Spain. Italy. Germany. Portugal. Get the idea?"
"All of Fascist Europe" said Thomas. The sun outside was crossed by clouds. For a moment the room was darker.
"He was making money There's no question about that. His profits were enormous. That's when he was investigated by the Federal government. He had got himself into some titanic currency and securities transactions with those foreign governments. It was alleged, and I repeat alleged, that he was in some sort of deal to help prop up the Italian lira. Back then the lira was worth more than it is now. But it was still shaky."
"What happened?" asked Thomas.
"Sandler was indicted for currency manipulation in 1939" Zenger explained.
"The government had a massive case against him, with a couple of fraud charges tossed in for good measure. And since the charges implied dealings with Fascist regimes, Sandler's usual family lawyers wanted nothing to do with the court battle.
"Victoria was so far gone by this time that she had no idea what her brother was involved in. Arthur turned his full attention to staying out of jail. Family business was ignored, even the management of the household. Servants left and were not replaced. Then more quit.
Arthur desperately looked for a lawyer who could defend him and win.
Not just get him a light sentence, but win.
"Well," chuckled Zenger,
"Arthur found one. A man just about as old then as you are now. After a several-month delay, Arthur Sandler appeared in court with a brilliant young lawyer out to make a name for himself. The young lawyer staggered the courtroom with his booming, explosive oratory and his moumftil pleas to the jury in defense of 'solid citizen Sandler."
"I don't think," said Zenger to his visitor, "that I need to tell you what the lawyer's name was' "My father," said Thomas.
Zenger nodded.
"He won an acquittal which defied logic. It wasn't for another year that anyone knew how he'd done it."
The next year was 1940. The major European powers were now all in the war. Increasingly, it appeared that the United States would be drawn in also. But meanwhile, the Federal investigation of Sandler had yielded an interesting fact. He hated the Fascists, but he was willing to enrich himself by doing business with them. Secretly he loathed them. This set certain minds to work. No sooner had the first currency fraud case been dismissed than the Government started building another one against Sandler. But this time they had no intention of ever taking it to court.
It was November of 1940. Sandler was on his way into his office building at Nassau and Wall Streets in lower Manhattan. He took one step up onto the curb one morning after crossing the street, when four men in civilian clothes surrounded him. The sleeves of his jacket were grabbed by a man on each side.
A few bystanders stopped to witness the scene. Sandler, dressed in a suit and carrying a briefcase, was physically picked up by two F.B.I. agents and slammed against the side of a 1939 Packard. He was stunned for a moment. His briefcase had flown from his hand.
He struggled again.
The leader lifted Sandler by his lapels and smashed him against the side of the car so hard that his back shattered the window to the backseat. Another agent opened the car door and Sandler was thrown into the car on top of the broken glass, An agent got in on either side of him. The two others were up front. One had his briefcase. All trace of Sandler had been removed from the sidewalk At the start, Sandler looked on it all as just another painful nuisance. But he began to be genuinely apprehensive when, instead of being taken to the F.B.I. offices on Duane Street, he was hustled into the back entrance of the United States courthouse on Cardinal Hayes Place. An elevator was waiting for him. And moments later he was pushed into a straight-backed wooden chair in a sixth-floor office. A chain-smoking, red-faced man in shirt sleeves sat behind a massive steel desk. The man's name was Archibald McFedrics.
McFedrics didn't exactly speak. It was a low tortured growl.
"I thought I'd save you the trouble of calling your lawyer," he muttered.
Sandler was speechless. Seated silently and uncomfortably across the room was his lawyer, William Ward Daniels.
Sandler looked nervously to his attorney. Daniels obviously knew enough to keep quiet. When Sandler looked back to the huge desk in front of him he was aware of four dossiers in front of McFedrics.
McFedrics looked back to Daniels.
"Tell him why he's here;' he ordered.
Daniels told him. Sandler had been brought to the office of a Special Assistant to the United States Attorney. While the U.S. Attorney was occupied with organized crime and rackets cases, McFedrics headed a separate and more covert branch of the Federal prosecutor's office.
McFedrics's concern was espionage. There were scores of Japanese and German agents operating in and between New York and Washington. To some degree the EB.I. had been able to identify and monitor them. But what whey had been unable to do was infiltrate them at the highest level. That's why Sandler was there.
McFedrics spoke of the Sandler family's place in America, the wealth they had accumulated and how, in the war that was now inevitable, certain Americans of 'questionable' heritage might have to be interned and their possessions placed under state control.
"America must protect herself," mused McFedrics gently.
Arthur Sandler was now terrified. William Ward Daniels continued not' speaking unless specifically asked a question.
"Do you know what these are?" McFedrics finally growled. His fist landed on the four dossiers.
Sandler remained silent.
"Three new currency violation charges against you, Sandler," announced McFedrics with obvious pleasure.
"Plus probably an additional charge of treason ' Sandler's face went white. But as he looked imploringly toward his attorney, he was enough in control of himself to remain silent.
"Trading with Germany has been illegal since 1938" McFedrics reminded the squirming Sandler.
"Just because you've been doing it through a Swiss corporation doesn't mean you can get away with it."
"Absurd" whispered Sandler defensively.
"Think so?" snapped McFedrics.
"We also know how your friend here beat the last set of charges we had against you."
Again Sandler looked to his attorney.
"It's true said Daniels.
"They're planning to charge me-and you -with jury tampering."
"They can't prove any fucking thing," retorted Sandler, suddenly indignant.
But William Ward Daniels only shrugged nervously.
"Theyre prepared to negotiate " said the attorney.
"We should be, too' I McFedrics actually chortled.
"I'd say we can put you away for thirty years, Sandler.
Maybe forty. And our hotshot mouthpiece here will do seven or eight.
In the bargain you lose your property and your crazy sister lands in a padded room. Think it over,"-he offered calmly.
Sandler looked at McFedrics.
"All right. What do you want?"
"Help "From me? "asked Sandler.
"You want help from me?"
"You and your government are in a position to help each other," said McFedrics slowly.
"You know your way in and out of Germany rather well. You speak the language perfectly. You know German society. German business. Even the military."
"So?"
"So you are in a unique position" said M@Fedries.
"You can contact German agents within the United States. As an American with access to money and power, you can offer help to them.
Eventually, when and if the United States becomes involved in Europe, you will choose to flee. You will return to Germany. And you will continue to work for this government Sandler sat there feeling the screws turn and wondering if it was actually happening. Then he looked at the four F.B.I. agents, his attorney, McFedrics, and the locked door.
"You fucking bastards " he cursed in a low bitter voice.
McFedrics sat down and hauled his feet up onto the desk.
"I'm glad you see it our way," he said.
"After all, it's us or prison. And when it's all over Uncle Sam will owe you a favor or two."
Thomas Daniels's legs were stiff from sitting and listening. The sun outside had vanished under an afternoon's worth of clouds. The Nantucket sky had changed from blue to gray.
"So thirty-five years ago Arthur Sandler was recruited as a U.S. spy," said Thomas.
"And my father could have gone to jail for jury tampering. So what?"
Zenger smiled.
"That's only half of it. Sandler turned out to be an excellent spy, far surpassing anyone's expectations. It's remarkable " he chuckled, 'how the criminal in society is always so patriotic. But then again, Sandler didn't just have a lot to lose. He had a lot to gain."
Meaning?"
"Sandler was, or is, a man of endless ingenuity. He could always emerge from a situation in a position of maximum strength. For example, within one year of the time he was recruited "The end of 1941?"
"Yes. By that time he was the number-two German intelligence agent in New York. And he had the perfect cover. A third-generation American businessman with a chunk of the established order in America. But Sandler was never content in a subservient role. And yet he could only move up to be head of New York operations if tragedy should befall Karl Hunsicker, the number-one agent. So Sandler studied Hunsicker. He learned the man's habits. And he arranged the perfect accident."
Zenger cleared his throat. A slight smile crossed his face as he continued.
"Hunsicker was a meticulously clean man who bathed before midnight each evening. Lived in a duplex floor through in an old apartment building at Eighty-fourth and Second. In the bathroom there was a large electric heater, equipped with a cone-shaped wire coil at its center.
Sandler called on Hunsicker late one evening."
Adolph Zenger, apparently amused, toyed with the handle of his cane again. His eyes twinkled.
"Hunsicker got his hot bath that night, all right. They found him two mornings later, still sharing his bathwater with the heater. But, hell. He was up to no good, that damned Nazi. Civic improvement."
"What happened to Sandler?" Thomas Daniels asked.
"He was moved up to number one in New York. Then about two months later things got hot for several Axis agents in the northeast.
Several of them were recalled to Germany. Sandler went'home'with them, traveling first to Mexico, where a submarine picked him up.
Fine instruments, those submarines," he added parenthetically.
Then he concluded,
"Ultimately, Sandler drifted into German intelligence. Doing what, I don't know. He was a chemist, an engraver, a financier, and a pretty fair assassin. A man like that might have many uses..
Zenger hesitated, then actually stopped. His attention seemed to lag abruptly, his gaze drifting out the window to the ocean beyond.
"Funny thing about those submarines," he said. A slight pause, then,
"Do you know that this island was blockaded during the war?
Sometimes bathers could see smoke rising on the horizon. U.S. merchant boats torpedoed by Hitler's submarines."
The man's eyes were sad and distant.
"Fucking foreigners" Zenger grumbled.
"Do you know what you can see from these windows now? Fishing fleets!
Foreign fishing fleets, especially the Commie ones, catching everything that swims.
Imagine. They come in here and catch American fish and we don't do a damned thing" He thought about it.
"Ought to blow their fishing tubs right out of the water," he concluded.
"Send out our Coast Guard " "What about Victoria?" Thomas asked.
Zenger puffed his cheeks thoughtfully.
"She got along. Thanks to estate management by Zenger and Daniels."
The old man managed a sly grin.
"Naturally," said Thomas.
"The money was there "Interesting point " said Zenger quickly.
"The money wasn't there.
No one had ever suspected, but the Sandler family had been almost flat broke" Thomas frowned.
"How could they have been?"
"Taxes. They were land poor. Real-estate assessments were eating up the money as fast as Arthur Sandler could make it. After the war it was a different story. When he came home in 1946 he was loaded again.
He had millions. And it couldn't have been through his companies.
They'd stagnated" "The government?" asked Thomas.
"Maybe " said Zenger.
"But there's a darker possibility. Somehow he made a fortune during the war. The logical guess is that he continued to do it after the war." Zenger paused. The excitement was gone from his eyes.
"Whatever it was, I didn't know then and I don't want to know now."
Zenger looked at Thomas carefully, then added, "Your father knew. But he never told " Thomas rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He got to his feet, stretched, and walked to the window. He watched the water in the distance, as if in thought over how to phrase the next question.
"What about the man who was killed in 1954?" Thomas asked.
"Obviously it wasn't Sandler."
Zenger shook his head, almost sadly.
"No, of course not. Sometime after the war, early on in the fifties, some former members of Axis intelligence discovered that Sandler had sabotaged a major operation in Austria. There were a few old Nazis around North America and they attempted their retribution. Twice they came close enough to shoot at Sandler. Twice they missed. Sandler used his government contacts to gain time. He asked for a stand-in, someone to pose as him. He got one. And while the double remained in New York, Sandler traveled to Oslo, where he laundered his identity. A new name, a new life. Meanwhile he had a stroke of luck. His standin was murdered on the street one afternoon. And that seemed to satisfy Sandler's old acquaintances.
"The funny thing about it, though," concluded Zenger, 'was that there was a rumor that said Sandler had been executed by British agents before the Axis people could even get to him."
"What sense does that make?" asked Thomas.
"None," said Zenger.
"But Sandler had a new identity. He managed to vanish. He had his face entirely changed. Surgically."
Thomas let several seconds pass before asking his next question.
"Is Arthur Sandler alive today?"
Zenger looked at him coldly.
"Do you think that fire in your office set itself" he asked.
Thomas was mystified.
"How could a man in his late sevent
ies be so dangerous?"
"I don't know. And I don't recommend finding out."
Thomas considered the blaze at his office. And he considered Leslie McAdam, struggling naked on a bed while her own father's hired killer attempted to murder her.
"I have a client," he said.
Zenger was livid.
"You also have sawdust between the ears if you take this woman seriously. First off, she is an impostor Second, Sandler's not the type of man you'll want to try pinning a paternity suit on even if she's not an imposter. Third, you'll never collect a cent of inheritance. This girl will never be able to prove she's a real daughter of Arthur Sandler. And you'll never be able to prove that a man legally dead twenty-two years ago is alive today. You'd have to successfully trace a man who's been gone for almost a quarter of a century."
"It could be done."
"Thomas! Come to your senses! Do you think Sandler's going to let you and some girl pick through his wealth and his interlocked companies? Do you think he'd risk having his new identity exposed?"
"How is he going to stop me?"
"Listen, boy," said Zenger, shaking his head in disgust, 'you don't want to live as long as I have, do you? I'll tell you how he's going to stop you " Zenger paused and caught his breath. He was very weak, but his anger-or fear-kept him going.
"All I know is what I learned from your father. In confidence, in the years after the war. But when Sandler got a new face he also got a job in our government. High. Very high. So high that only two people knew who he was. Both were murdered in their homes within a week. Both the same night. Both with a wire" Thomas Daniels practically bolted upright.
"A wire?"
"A wire'" said Zenger, elaborating in hopes of scaring Thomas off the case.
"It was a trick Sandler learned in the war. In a hollow heel of a shoe he carried two brass rings with a piano wire strung between them. A makeshift garrotte. Always with him and damned effective.
His favorite."
Thomas broke into a slow smile. Zenger cocked his head, looking at the younger man.
"What did I say?" Zenger asked.
"You just proved that my client is telling the truth'" Thomas said.
"I'm sorry. I'm taking her case."
Chapter 8
