Voices Behind the Curtain

by Gordon Zuckerman

  Two hours later, he had completed his calls. The reaction he had received ranged from calm acceptance to blustering outrage. After patiently waiting for their emotional outbursts to subside, Jordan calmly questioned if a second meeting to be held in his office was in order.

  Concerned about how widespread the news reporting Manuel’s robbery and the killings may have become, Jordan walked over to the bookshelves and turned on his small television set. After switching between the different news channels and failing to find anything of interest, he turned to his radio. Once again, he failed to hear anything about a killing in Mexico. Finally, he walked over to the teletype machine that he kept in the small cubicle located in the far wall. For the next 15 minutes, he monitored the reporting of the different news agencies. Failing to find anything of interest, he returned to his desk.

  Confused why such an event would remain unreported, he wondered, What kind of game are Mike Stone and his friends playing? If they already possessed the information they wanted, what would they stand to gain by killing Manuel? Why would bankers and government agents want to steal all our money?

  * * *

  AROUND 2:30 P.M. THAT SAME AFTERNOON, JORDAN WAS SITTING alone in his office. He could feel his orderly, predictable world collapsing around him. His recent bout of depression was beginning to return. Never one to give up so easily, he was wondering if he had missed something. By 4:30, he had assembled all the data contained in his different security reports. It was scattered all over his normally immaculate desk, and he was totally absorbed in studying each of the reports, one after another. The more he read, the more convinced he was becoming that, although he didn’t know what he was looking for, he would recognize it when he saw it. Without thinking, he had selected the next report that lay on top of the high stack of material. It had been prepared on the American Maintenance Company, the building maintenance company employed by several of his clients. He was studying the fine print and the footnotes when he discovered a seemingly unimportant notation describing the company’s credit references. It mentioned the name of Mr. Michael Stone, executive vice president, Stone City Bank. It doesn’t make sense. Why would a big-money bank be doing business with such a small and relatively new building maintenance company?

  His interest piqued, he flipped back a few pages and started reading the report more carefully. There it was again . . . Clearly printed were the names Marco Tancredi, president of American Maintenance, and Mike Stone, executive vice president, Stone City Bank. Jordan was obviously aware of Mike Stone, but Marco Tancredi was a new name.

  Jordan didn’t believe in coincidences. Instinct was telling him he needed to learn more about Mr. Marco Tancredi. The break finally came when he decided to look deeper into his personal history. Scouring every word of the small print, he learned Tancredi had attended grammar and high school in “Little Italy.”

  Researching Don Cerreta’s personal background was much easier. His résumé was included in the Justice Department’s Annual Review. Jordan’s review revealed the federal prosecutor and Marco had attended the same schools at the same time. Although he had no way of understanding why these three men were connected, he instinctively knew he had found the link he was seeking. Jordan’s brilliant mind was kicking into high gear. If the company removed the daily trash from the offices of some of Manuel’s Club members, it stood to reason cleaning personnel must have discovered some sort of information that described their Mexican activities. It didn’t take much imagination to assume Marco had passed his information on to Cerreta. Knowing of Cerreta and Stone’s history of working together opposing the efforts of the “Oil Club’s” attempt to monopolize the production and distribution of 90 percent of the world’s oil production, Jordan surmised, So that is how the Sentinels and the Justice Department have been getting their information!

  At 9:35 the next morning, Jordan was sitting behind his big desk contemplating how best to use his new information when the intercom buzzer indicated his secretary needed to speak with him. “Mr. McWilliams, there is a Mr. Michael Stone standing in front of my desk without an appointment. He has suggested you would probably want to see him.”

  Entering the office, Mike formally introduced himself, before handing Jordan a large manila envelope, then he said, “Mr. McWilliams, enclosed you will find a copy of what Walt Matthews is planning to print in tomorrow’s New York Times. It documents the names of the contributors to your Mexican war chest, the names of recipients, and the amounts of campaign contributions, as well as their voting records on military appropriation bills.”

  As Jordan took the article, Mike was studying him the same way, in his youth, he would assess an amateur boxing opponent.

  Jordan, the wily old pro, was doing his best to ensure that his relaxed countenance and steely blue eyes didn’t betray the many thoughts racing through his mind.

  Once Mike felt he had let Jordan squirm long enough, he said, “Why don’t you take a few minutes to study the contents of the article before we have a little chat?”

  Mike felt he had let Jordan squirm long enough, before he said, “Now that we and the Justice Department have, in our possession, multiple sources of evidence we need to indict, we have been wondering, with your assistance and your other lawyer friends, if we could come to an understanding and we could provide you with an opportunity to stop all of this before things get out of control.”

  The sight of the article had shaken Jordan, but his mood lifted as he remembered he might still have one card to play. Assuming my hunch about Marco Tancredi and Don Cerreta might be true, although I don’t know all the details, maybe I can bluff my way out of this predicament.

  “Mr. Stone, I suggest that you listen very carefully to what I am about to explain! Did you really believe we were unaware of your, Cerreta, and Tancredo’s efforts to illegally obtain information from executive offices? If you plan to publish that article, I can’t even imagine the amount of the damages you and your friends will be charged with for publicizing detrimental information illegally secured! And if that isn’t a good enough reason, we can add the fact that you have attempted to coerce Señor Arena by using the threat of exposure to convince him to turn over sensitive data against his wishes.”

  * * *

  “NICE TRY, MCWILLIAMS! PERHAPS YOU WOULD PREFER TO STUDY these affidavits I am about to hand you. They have been signed and witnessed by employees of his studio who state Señor Arena voluntarily provided us with the files stored in his safe. Or, if you would prefer, we would be willing to ask him to testify.”

  Mike patiently waited for Jordan to finish processing what he had just been told before continuing. “How do you think the public will react when it learns that the House Un-American Activities Committee was engaged in punishing innocent people and abusing the rights of Americans for the benefit of impressing the public with the threat of spreading Communism? How do you expect the courts to react when they learn of your attempt to manipulate the congressional appropriations process as part of a plot to unnecessarily accelerate increased military appropriations? How do you expect the consumers of the products produced by your clients to react when they learn of their willingness to take advantage of the American people?

  “Then there is the question of the Washington lobbying effort and its attempts to obtain the voting support of the to-be-named congressmen. Do you really wish to expose all your dirty linen to the public?”

  * * *

  “MR. STONE, I DON’T THINK YOU UNDERSTAND THE ‘BIGGER PICTURE.’ If we were talking about a couple of military contracts here, I doubt the risks you have so eloquently described would justify our continuing. Unfortunately, we are discussing the economic health of the United States economy. When the entire story has been told, do you really believe your seedy little contentions would withstand the pressure of the entire military-industrial establishment?”

  * * *

  “MR. MCWILLIAMS, YOU AND YOUR FRIENDS HAVE 72 HOURS TO provide us with conclusive proof of your termina
ting Manuel’s Club, repatriating any remaining funds in that war chest to the original donors, canceling all lobbying contracts, and evidence informing all political recipients there will be no further contributions made to their campaigns. Your 72-hour clock is running.”

  CHAPTER 33

  Something of Importance

  NEW YORK, JUNE 1949

  It was one in the morning when the phone on Armando’s bedside table began to ring. Only half-awake, he picked up the phone. He heard the familiar but panicked voice of Frank Majors, one of his building maintenance managers. Struggled to understand what Frank was trying to say, it took a moment before Armando was able to understand the seriousness of what we was hearing.

  “They scared the hell out of us!”

  “Frank, calm down. Count to 10 and then slowly explain what has happened.”

  “There were seven guys, each of which was carrying a gun. They were dressed in dark clothes, wearing ski masks to cover their faces, and carrying what looked like very large bags. After they scooped up all the trash and stuffed it into those large bags, they started interrogating us, one at a time. They were asking us questions about you and Mr. Tancredi and people we’d never heard of.

  “When they suggested we had been separating executive notes out of the trash, we mentioned the exercise was an ongoing practice we had engaged in for years. Reading them and speculating on what the important people might have been discussing was our way of regularly entertaining ourselves during our midnight lunch break. I explained once read, they were deposited in the incinerator along with the rest of the trash. I even showed him some of the notes we had separated out that night.”

  “Frank, you should call the police department and tell them everything you have just told me, less your last comment.”

  * * *

  AT 10 MINUTES TO TWELVE, ARMANDO ENTERED THE RESTAURANT and walked past the bar and into the restroom. After the customary 5 minutes, he emerged and slowly made his way to Marco’s table.

  As he patiently listened to Armando, Marco was becoming increasingly concerned. Not quite certain how to react, the normally in command secretive streetwise executive didn’t immediately reply. He was busy thinking. Could Jordan have discovered the connection between me, Don Cerreta, and Mike Stone? If so, he might be trying to determine if our cleaning company might be the source of their information. How else could they explain why we seem to know whatever they are planning? From Frank, the connection between me, Don Cerreta, and Mike Stone?

  What’s their motive? Are they trying to send us some kind of message? Are they preparing to put the three of us out of business? Or are they only trying to learn how Don and Mike have been obtaining their information? Whatever their purpose, we would be wise to take all necessary precautions to protect ourselves and warn the others.

  * * *

  TWO DAYS LATER, MARCO AND ARMANDO WERE ENJOYING ASPECIALLY prepared lunch, well complemented with one of their favorite Tuscan wines, when the yellow light mounted over the bar began to flash. Calmly, they, together with the other patrons, rose from their tables, leaving their partially finished meals, and proceeded to the rear of the restaurant where a large floating paneled wall protected a set of stairs that led to the basement wine cellar. When the last of them had entered, a heavy iron door was closed and locked.

  The flashing yellow light had been triggered by one of the men employed by Marco’s friends, who was staked out behind an open window in a third- floor apartment directly opposite the entrance to the restaurant. His presence was part of a longer term security precaution afforded the colorful regulars of the popular Italian restaurant.

  * * *

  ABOVEGROUND, TWO HEFTY MEN EXITED FROM A BLACK CAR THAT had suddenly pulled to a stop in front of the restaurant. Carrying automatic weapons, they made their way into the now-vacant restaurant. Confused by the vacated restaurant and the unfinished meals left on the tables, they immediately started yelling to the driver sitting in the waiting car, “Someone must have been tipped off. The tables are covered with partially eaten food. No patrons, no waiters, no bartenders.”

  * * *

  AT ALMOST THE SAME MOMENT, TWO POLICE CARS HAD SCREECHED to a stop, blocking any possibility the waiting car might escape. Standing behind the protective cover of the squad cars, the officers trained their guns on the emerging gunmen and the man sitting in the idling car. Realizing they were caught with no opportunity to escape, they dropped their weapons and raised their hands.

  * * *

  FOR THE SECOND TIME IN A WEEK, JORDAN’S HOME PHONE BEGAN TO ring. Only the head of his security company had his private number and was authorized to call at any time in case of an emergency. Expecting to hear his deep gravelly voice, Jordan didn’t immediately recognize Mike Stone’s voice.

  “Jordan, apparently we failed to understand each other. We have just arrested three more of your hired killers. As we speak, they are sitting in isolated jail cells where your lawyers won’t be able to find them. They’re waiting to be questioned. Twelve hours of your 72-hour grace period has expired. Unless we can work out a solution, all hell could break loose. Be in my office at nine o’clock tomorrow morning. You might conclude we have something of importance to discuss!”

  CHAPTER 34

  Across the Atlantic

  LONDON, JUNE 1949

  Assured that Mercedes had met and received the contact information of London’s more active casting agencies, Natalie returned to Los Angeles. Based on the expressions of interest she and Mercedes had received, she needed to finalize her list of Hollywood’s most promising candidates who might fill the specific needs of potentially interested employers. Her last instruction to Mercedes was, “Why don’t you call on the people who attended Sir Colin’s soiree and begin to qualify which ones have the highest sense of urgency to fill a vacant position. Once you’re able to prioritize your list, I’ll know how to better focus my work.”

  * * *

  TWO DAYS LATER WHEN THE ENORMITY OF HER RESPONSIBILITIES WAS becoming clearer, she began to experience her first fears of failure. Naturally, her first thought was to call Don and ask him for his support and assistance.

  Don, pleased to hear from her, found himself patiently listening to Mercedes as she excitedly described what she had been asked to do. The longer he listened, the more he found himself thinking about how rapidly Mercedes’s life was to change.

  Wanting to be very careful how he responded, Don asked her to explain, in detail, what it was she had been asked to do. The longer he listened, the more he found himself thinking about how rapidly she was transforming herself from the glamorous actor-model to a serious working professional. He didn’t have to be told that professional success and the reinventing of her life were highly interdependent.

  Responding to her plea, he said, “Mercedes, the best way I can help you is to share your burden and remain a good and trusted listener. It’s important that you not be excused from having the experience of struggling to solve these problems on your own. It’s part of the process we have all been required to endure. It’s important for you to realize the successful implementation of your assignment could create the opportunity you need to propel yourself out of your modeling and acting world.”

  Without thinking, Mercedes replied, “How do I not know I am not in way over my head? How do I not know that I have been set up to fail?”

  As tempted as he was to yield to the request, Don was convinced that Mercedes’s personal success depended upon her learning that it was her efforts that had made it possible for great things to happen. “Mercedes, as much as I would like to be your lover, I can’t be your business partner. Learning how to solve all these problems has to come from within you.”

  Not expecting that kind of answer, Mercedes had the good sense to not immediately react. After taking a moment to consider what she had been told, she said, “Knowing you as I do, I know that you wouldn’t have said that if you didn’t respect my intelligence and abilities. The confidence you ar
e showing in me helps to provide me with the confidence I am going to need. I will be forever grateful. Thank you!”

  After letting out a sigh of relief, he said, “Mercedes, I do have, however, two pieces of unsolicited advice I would like to pass along. First, always remember that the dynamics of London’s film colony are most likely very similar to what exists in Mexico City and Southern California. Beware of the predators.

  “Take advantage of what you’ve recently learned. Verify everything, and don’t let any of those sons a bitches push you around.

  “Second, always remember to avoid becoming a wet paper bag full of marbles hitting the floor and exploding in all directions. Take the time to interview each of your most promising candidates before you make any commitments. Find out what motivates them and what problems they are hoping to solve. Pick your targets carefully. Take your time and concentrate your initial efforts on the most motivated. Make absolutely certain that your early efforts are successful.”

  * * *

  “DON, ON OUR TRIP TO MEXICO, I WAS GROWING HOPEFUL WE WERE experiencing the start of what I hoped would be a meaningful relationship. I’m worried that with all our mutual distractions, we might lose something very important. If I understand my job properly, it will require me to return to the United States to screen the prospects Natalie has tentatively identified for each of our orders. Would you like me to arrange, on at least one leg of my trips, to spend a long weekend with you in Washington?”

  * * *

  FASCINATED BY THE PROSPECT OF SPENDING 3 DAYS OF UNINTERRUPTED time with Mercedes, Don answered, “Just give me a little advanced notice and I will make all the arrangements.”

  Laughing in the hearty way Don had grown to appreciate, Mercedes said, “Don’t worry—I’ll make all the arrangements. Do you really think I would leave the romantic details to some stuffy attorney? All you will have to do is show up and wear green!”