The Osterman weekend

by Ludlum, Robert

  Saddle Valley had wanted a mercenary.

  It had hired a bigot.

  "All right, Mr. Tanner, I'd like a statement What happened here tonight?"

  "We ... we had a small party for friends."

  "How many?"

  "Four couples. Eight people."

  "Any hired help?"

  "No. ... No, no help."

  MacAuliff looked at Tanner, putting his notebook at his side. "No maid?"

  "No."

  "Did Mrs. Tanner have anyone in during the afternoon? To help out?"

  "No."

  "You're sure?"

  "Ask her yourself." Ali was in the study where they'd made makeshift beds for the children.

  "It could be important. While you were at work she might have had some coloreds or P.R.'s here."

  Tanner saw Bernie recoil. "I was home all day."

  "Okay."

  "Captain," Osterman stepped forward from Leila's side. "Somebody broke into this house and slit that dog's throat. Isn't it possible that it was a thief? Mr. and Mrs. Tanner were robbed last Wednesday. Shouldn't we check ..." It was as far as he got. MacAuliff looked at the writer and scarcely disguised his contempt. "I'll handle this, Mr. . . ." The Police Chief glanced at his notebook. "Mr. Osterman. I'd like Mr. Tanner to explain what happened here tonight. I'd appreciate it if you'd let him answer. We'll get to you in good time."

  Tanner kept trying to get Jenkins' attention, but the policeman avoided his eyes. The news director didn't know what to say—or what specifically not to say.

  "Now then, Mr. Tanner," MacAuliff sat down and returned to his notebook, pencil poised. "Let's start at the beginning. And don't forget things Like deliveries."

  Tanner was about to speak when McDermott's voice could be heard from the second floor.

  "Captain! Can I see you a minute? The guest room."

  Without saying anything, Bernie started up the stairs in front of MacAuliff, Leila following.

  Instantly, Jenkins approached Tanner's chair and bent over. "I've only got time to say this once. Listen and commit! Don't bring up any Omega business. None of it. Nothing! I couldn't say it before, the Ostermans were hovering over you."

  "Why not? For Christ's sake, this is Omega business! . . . What am I supppsed to say? Why shouldn't I?"

  "MacAuliff s not one of us. He's not cleared for anythmg. . . . Just tell the truth about your party. That's all!"

  "You mean he doesn't know?"

  "He doesn't. I told you, he's not cleared."

  "What about the men outside, the patrols in the woods?"

  "They're not his men. ... If you bring it up he'll think you're crazy. And the Ostermans will know. If you point at me I'll deny everything you say. You'll look like a psycho."

  "Do you people think that MacAuliff..."

  "No. He's a good cop. He's also a small-time Napoleon so we can't use him. Not openly. But he's conscientious, he can help us. Get him to find where the Tremaynes and the Cardones went."

  "Cardone was drunk. Tremayne drove them all home."

  "Find out if they went straight home. MacAuliff loves interrogations; he'll nail them if they're lying."

  "How can I..."

  "You're worried about them. That's good enough. And remember, it's nearly over."

  MacAuliff returned. McDermott had "mistaken" the lateral catch in the guest room window as a possible sign of a break-in.

  "All right, Mr. Tanner. Let's start with when your guests arrived."

  And so John Tanner, functioning on two levels, related the blurred events of the evening. Bernie and Leila Osterman came downstairs and added very little of consequence. Ali came out of the study and contributed nothing. "Very well, ladies and gentlemen." MacAuliff got out of the chair.

  "Aren't you going to question the others?" Tanner also rose and faced the police captain.

  "I was going to ask you if we could use your telephone. We have procedures."

  "Certainly."

  "Jenkins, call the Cardones. Well see them first."

  "Yes, sir."

  "What about the Tremaynes?"

  "Procedures, Mr. Tanner. After we speak to the Cardones we'll call the Tremaynes and then see them."

  "That way no one checks with anyone else, right?"

  "That's right, Mr. Osterman. You familiar with police work?"

  "I write your guidelines every week."

  "My husband's a television writer," said Leila.

  "Captain." Patrolman Jenkins spoke from the telephone. "The Cardones aren't home. I've got the maid on the line."

  "Call the Tremaynes."

  The group remained silent while Jenkins dialed. After a brief conversation Jenkins put down the telephone.

  "Same story. Captain. The daughter says they're not home either."

  Tanner sat with his wife in the living room. The Ostermans had gone upstairs; the police departed, in search of the missing couples. Neither John nor Ali was comfortable. Ali because she had decided in her own mind who had killed the dog, John because he couldn't get out of his mind the implications of the dog's death.

  "It was Dick, wasn't it?" Alice asked.

  "Dick?"

  "He threatened me. He came into the kitchen and threatened me."

  "Threatened you?" If that was so, thought Tanner, why hadn't Fassett's men come sooner, "When? How?"

  "When they were leaving. ... I don't mean he threatened me personally. Just generally, all of us."

  'What did he say?" Tanner hoped Fassett's men were listening now. It would be a point he'd bring up later.

  "He said you shouldn't make judgments. Editorial judgments."

  "What else?"

  "That some . . . some people were more resourceful. That's what he said. That I should remember that people weren't always what they seemed. . . . That some were more resourceful than others."

  "He could have meant several things."

  "It must be an awful lot of money."

  "What's a lot of money?"

  "Whatever he and Joe are doing with Jim Loomis. The thing you had looked into."

  Oh, God, thought Tanner. The real and the unreal. He'd almost forgotten his lie.

  "It's a lot of money," he said softly, realizing he was on dangerous ground. It would occur to Ali that money itself was insufficient. He tried to anticipate her. "More than just money, I think. Their reputations could go down the drain."

  Alice stared at the single lighted table lamp. "Upstairs you . . . you thought Leila had done it, didn't you?"

  "I was wrong."

  "She was across the hall..."

  "That wouldn't make any difference; we went over that with MacAuliff. He agreed. A lot of the blood had dried, congealed. The pup was killed hours ago."

  "I guess you're right." Ali kept picturing Leila with her back pressed against the wall, staring straight ahead, listening to the conversation in the kitchen.

  The clock on the mantel read five-twenty. They had agreed they would sleep in the living room, in front of the study, next to their children.

  At five-thirty the telephone rang. MacAuliff had not found the Tremaynes or the Cardones. He told Tanner that he had decided to put out a missing persons bulletin.

  "They may have decided to go into town, into New York," said Tanner quickly. A missing persons bulletin might drive Omega underground, prolong the nightmare. "Some of those Village spots stay open. Give them more time. They're friends, for heaven's sake!"

  "Can't agree. No place stays open after four."

  "They may have decided to go to a hotel."

  "We'll know soon enough. Hotels and hospitals are the first places M.P.B.'s go to."

  Tanner's mind raced. "You've searched the surrounding towns? I know a few private clubs ..."

  "So do we. Checked out."

  Tanner knew he had to think of something. Anything that would give Fassett enough time to control the situation. Fassett's men were listening on the line, there was no question about that; they'd see the danger insta
ntly.

  "Have you searched the area around the old depot? The one on Lassiter Road?"

  "Who the hell would go out there? What for?"

  "I found my wife and children there on Wednesday. Just a thought."

  The hint worked. "Call you back," MacAuliff said. "I'll check that out."

  As he hung up the telephone, Ali spoke. "No sign?"

  "No. . . . Honey, try to get some rest. I know of a couple of places—clubs—the police may not know about. I'll try them. Ill use the kitchen phone. I don't want to wake the kids."

  Fassett answered the phone quickly.

  "It's Tanner. Do you know what's happened?"

  "Yes. That was damned good thinking. You're hired."

  "That's the last thing I want. What are you going to do? You can't have an interstate search."

  "We know. Cole and Jenkins are in touch. We'll intercept."

  "And then what?"

  "There are several alternate moves. I don't have time to explain. Also, I need this line. Thanks, again." Fassett hung up.

  "Tried two places," said Tanner coming back into the living room. "No luck. . . . Let's try to get some sleep. They probably found a party and dropped in. Lord knows we've done that."

  "Not in years," said Ali.

  Both of them pretended to sleep. The tick of the clock was like a metronome, hypnotic, exasperating. Finally, Tanner realized his wife was asleep. He closed his eyes, feeling the heavy weight of his lids, aware of the complete blackness in front of his mind. But his hearing would not rest. At six-forty he heard the sound of a car. It came from in front of his house. Tanner got out of the chair and went quickly to the window. MacAuliif walked up the path, and he was alone. Tanner went out to meet him.

  "My wife's asleep. I don't want to wake her."

  "Doesn't matter," said MacAuliff ominously. "My business is with you."

  "What?"

  "The Cardones and the Tremaynes were rendered unconscious by a massive dose of ether. They were left in their car off the road by the Lassiter depot. Now I want to know why you sent us there. How did you know?"

  Tanner could only stare at MacAuliff in silence.

  "Your answer?"

  "So help me, I didn't know! I didn't know any thing. ... I'll never forget Wednesday afternoon as long as I live. Neither would you if you were me. The depot just came to mind. I swear it!"

  "It's one hell of a coincidence, isn't it?"

  "Look, if I had known I would have told you hours ago! I wouldn't put my wife through this. For Christ's sake, be reasonable!"

  MacAuliff looked at him questioningly. Tanner pressed on. "How did it happen? What did they say? Where are they?"

  "They're down at the Ridge Park Hospital. They won't be released until tomorrow morning at the earliest."

  "You must have talked with them."

  According to Tremayne, MacAuliff said, the four of them had driven down Orchard Drive less than a half mile when they saw a red flare in the road and an automobile parked on the shoulder. A man waved them down; a well-dressed man who looked like any resident of Saddle Valley. Only he wasn't. He'd been visiting friends and was on his way back to Westchester. His car had suddenly developed engine trouble and he was stuck. Tremayne offered to drive the man back to his friends' house. The man accepted.

  That was the last Tremayne and the two wives remembered. Apparently Cardone had been uncon-' conscious throughout the incident.

  At the deserted depot the police found an unmarked aerosol can on the floor of Tremayne's car. It would be examined in the morning, but MacAuliff had no doubt it was ether.

  "There must be a connection with last Wednesday," said Tanner.

  "It's the obvious conclusion. Still, anyone who knows this neck of the woods knows that the old depot area is deserted. Especially anyone who read the papers or heard about Wednesday afternoon."

  "I suppose so. Were they robbed. .. too?"

  "Not of money, or wallets or jewelry. Tremayne said he was missing some papers from his coat. He was very upset."

  "Papers?" Tanner remembered the lawyer saying he had left some notes in his jacket. Notes that he might need. "Did he say which papers?"

  "Not directly. He was hysterical—didn't make too much sense. He kept repeating the name 'Zurich.' "

  John held his breath and, as he had learned to do, tensed the muscles of his stomach, trying with all his strength to suppress his surprise. It was so like Tremayne to arrive with written-down, pertinent data concerning the Zurich accounts. If there had been a confrontation, he was armed with the facts.

  MacAuliff caught Tanner's reaction. "Does Zuirich mean something to you?"

  "No, why should it?"

  "You always answer a, question with a question?"

  "At the risk of offending you again, am I being officially questioned?"

  "You certainly are."

  "Then, no. The name Zurich means nothing to me. I can't imagine why he'd say it. Of course, hi law firm is international."

  MacAuliff made no attempt to conceal his anger. "I don't know what's going on, but I'll tell you this much. I'm an experienced police officer and I've had some of the toughest beats a man can have When I took this job I gave my word I'd keep this town clean. I meant that."

  Tanner was tired of him. "I'm sure you did, Cap tain. I'm sure you always mean what you say." He turned his back and started for the house.

  It was MacAuliff's turn to be stunned. The suspect was walking away and there was nothing Saddle Valley's Police Chief could do about it.

  Tanner stood on his front porch and watched MacAuliff drive off. The sky was brighter but there'd be no sun. The clouds were low, the rain would come, but not for a while.

  No matter. Nothing mattered. It was over for him.

  The covenant was broken now. The contract between John Tanner and Laurence Fassett was void.

  For Fassetfs guarantee had proven false. Omega did not stop with the Tremaynes, the Cardones and the Ostermans. It went beyond the constituency of the weekend.

  He was willing to play— had to play—under Fassett's rules as long as the other players were the men and women he knew.

  Not now.

  There was someone else now—someone who could stop a car on a dark road in the early morning hours and create terror.

  Someone he didn't know. He couldn't accept that.

  Tanner waited until noon before heading towards the woods. The Ostermans had decided to take a nap around eleven-thirty and it was a good time to suggest the same to Ali. They were all exhausted. The children were in the study watching the Saturday morning cartoons.

  He walked casually around the pool, holding a sk iron, pretending to practice his swing, but actually observing the windows on the rear of the house: the two children's rooms and the upstairs bathroom.

  He approached the edge of the woods and lit a cigarette.

  No one acknowledged his presence. There was no sign, nothing but silence from the small forest. Tanner spoke softly.

  "I'd like to reach Fassett. Please answer. It's an emergency."

  He swung his golf club as he said the words.

  "I repeat! It's urgent I talk with Fassett! Someone say where you are!"

  Still no answer.

  Tanner turned, made an improvised gesture toward nothing, and entered the woods. Once in thee tall foliage he used his elbows and arms to push deeper into the small forest, toward the tree where Jenkins had gone for the portable radio.

  No one!

  He walked north; kicking, slashing, searching. Finally he reached the road.

  There was no one there! No one was guarding his house! No one was watching the island!

  No one!

  Fassett's men were gone!

  He raced from the road, skirting the edge of the woods, watching the windows fifty yards away at the front of his house.

  Fassett's men were gone!

  He ran across the back lawn, rounded the pool and let himself into the kitchen. Once inside he s
topped at the sink for breath and turned on the cold water. He splashed it in his face and then stood up and arched his back, trying to find a moment of sanity.

  No one! No one was guarding his house. No one guarding his wife and his children!

  He turned off the water and then decided to let it run slowly, covering whatever footsteps he made.

  He walked through the kitchen door, hearing the laughter of his children from the study. Going upstairs, he silently turned the knob of his bedroom door. Ali was lying on top of their bed, her bathrobe fallen away, her nightgown rumpled. She was breathing deeply, steadily, asleep.

  He closed the door and listened for any sound from the guest room. There was none.

  He went back down into the kitchen, closed the door and walked through the archway into the small pantry to make sure that, too, was shut.

  He returned to the telephone on the kitchen wall, lifted the receiver. He did not dial.

  "Fassett! If you or any of your men are on this line, cut in and acknowledge! And I mean now!"

  The dial tone continued; Tanner listened for the slightest break in the circuit.

  There was none.

  He dialed the motel. "Room twenty-two, please."

  "I'm sorry, sir. Room twenty-two is not occupied."

  "Not occupied? You're wrong! I spoke to the party at five o'clock this morning!"

  "I'm sorry, sir. They checked out."

  Tanner replaced the receiver, staring at it in disbelief.

  The New York number! The emergency number!

  He picked up the telephone, trying to keep his hand from trembling.

  The beep of a recording preceded the flat-toned voice.

  "The number you have reached is not in service. Please check the directory for the correct number. This is a recording. The number you have reached..."

  John Tanner closed his eyes. It was inconceivable! Fassett couldn't be reached! Fassett's men had disappeared!

  He was alone!

  He tried to think. He had to think. Fassett had to be found! Some gargantuan error had taken place. The cold, professional government man with his myriad ruses and artifices had made some horrible mistake.