“If this is a testimonial dinner,” I said, “go ahead and roll out the cake with the stripper in it.”
He began to pace, slowly, measured steps, not nervous, in an arc that traced the edge of my circle of light. “I also gather that you’re a friend of Eliot Ness, that you aided him on various matters when he was with the Justice Department and, later, the Alcohol and Tax Unit.”
“Yeah, I’m a regular Junior G-man. You can untie me now.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” he said ambiguously. “You’re also a known confidant of the criminal element in Chicago. You left the police department under a cloud, and you’ve had frequent dealings with members of the Capone mob.”
“So which is it? Am I a public-minded citizen, or a lowlife crook?”
His mouth smiled faintly but there was no smile in his eyes, at all. “That’s up to you... You mind if I make myself comfortable?”
“Please. Come sit on my lap if you want.”
Miller chuckled again. “I like your sense of humor. Very droll.”
That was a new word for it.
He stepped outside the circle into the darkness, but my eyes were accustomed enough to that darkness that I could make out his movement. He took something from somewhere and came walking back. Another metal folding chair. He placed it at the edge of the pool of light and sat. Crossed his legs. Folded his arms. Smiled meaninglessly.
“You see, we’re aware that you’re considering going to the press with what you’ve learned,” he said. “I mention these various aspects of your life and career to show why we feel you might be willing to cooperate with your government...”
It was out in the open now.
“...and, if you decline to help, to remind you how easily we might discredit you and anything you came up with.”
I laughed once but it was loud enough to echo. “So all you wanted was to talk this over with me? Is that what your friends ‘Smith and Jones’ were doing in my cabin? Looking for me? Under my bed? In my suitcase and dresser drawers?”
“Actually, we were looking for this...” And he withdrew from his side suitcoat pocket my little notebook; he held it up as if it were an item on auction. “...and anything else pertinent, any other notes or documents you might have assembled.”
Then he tossed it to me.
I caught it, and thumbed through. All the pages relating to Amy were missing.
“Everyone you’ve spoken to, we’ll be speaking to,” Miller said.
“Tied to chairs?”
His smile broadened. “No... You’re really the only one who requires... special treatment.”
“You forgot the kid gloves.”
Now the smile disappeared. “We intend to appeal to the patriotism of these individuals, Mr. Heller... We don’t anticipate any problems with any of them. Mr. McMenamy would surely not like to have his ham radio operating license pulled, nor would any of the other buffs who’ve reported hearing similar transmissions. The Myers youth is... a youth. He’s unlikely to make a fuss and, even so, who would pay attention? Miss DeCarrie will understand that it was Miss Earhart’s wish to cooperate with her government, and will respect the wishes of her employer and friend. Mr. Mantz and Mr. Tisor occasionally work on government contracts and I’m sure will do the right, public-spirited thing.”
“Or you’ll yank whatever licenses they need to do business. You bastards’ll turn me into a Republican yet.”
“Mr. Heller, stumbling around in the dark...” And he gestured to the blackness of the hangar surrounding us. “...flying blind as you have, you’ve imperiled a top-secret government operation. We are trying as best we can to... stage-manage what could become an international incident of such proportions that the next world war could be precipitated.”
The volume of his voice had gradually risen; it was now reverberating in the vast chamber.
“And, Mr. Heller, speaking with a certain insider’s knowledge of both military and naval intelligence, I can tell you with all honesty and no small regret that your country is at this time in no shape to enter such a conflict.”
This was a new one on me: I’d never been accused of almost precipitating a world war, before.
I said, “I’m just supposed to take your word for all this.”
Both feet on the floor now, he folded his hands in his lap and tilted forward. “Mr. Heller, the disappearance of Amelia Earhart is big news. But how long do you think the disappearance of a corrupt private detective would sustain the interest of the American people?”
Were there others in the darkness around us? I sensed as much, but couldn’t be sure.
I said cheerfully, “Too bad your boys Smith and Jones didn’t stop by my motel a little earlier... They might have intercepted that detailed letter I sent my attorney.”
He sat back and folded his arms again and the soft mouth formed a sort of kiss. Then he said, “All right... Now we’ve exchanged threats. Mine is not empty, whereas yours is a fairly pathetic improvisation, but let’s treat each other with a little mutual respect, nonetheless. I’ll pretend I believe there’s a real chance that such a letter exists. And I won’t remind you that a blowtorch to the soles of your feet might elicit the truth in this matter and/or the name of your attorney. I won’t insult your intelligence in that manner.”
“You’re a swell guy, Miller. I feel so good with the security of my nation in your principled hands.”
“You’re a funny one to talk about principles... You forget I’ve read your FBI file. You have a reputation for looking the other way, when money’s involved.”
“Then let’s see the color of yours.”
“An interesting notion, and I don’t rule it out... but I think in this instance we’ve gone past your innate avarice and passed into an... emotional realm. You see I’m aware — unlike Mr. Putnam, who is cooperating with us, but knows less than he thinks he does — of your... this is delicate... friendship with Mr. Putnam’s wife.”
Funny how a guy threatening to torture me with a blowtorch a few seconds ago now felt the need to indulge in arch euphemism.
“I’ll tell you this,” I said. “I know Mr. Putnam’s wife well enough to know that she wouldn’t get in bed with the military. She hates war.”
“Yes, and she cooperated with us for that very reason... and because she and her husband could not get sufficient backing for the world flight, otherwise.”
I leaned forward as far as the rope around me would allow. “Why Amelia? Why drag a public figure, a beloved public figure, into your dirty business?”
He sighed. “This was a service only she could provide, Mr. Heller. As the most famous civilian aviatrix in the world, she enjoyed an unparalleled advantage: the freedom to fly anywhere in that world, including places where her own country was banned.”
I sneered at the son of a bitch. “She was a civilian, and a heroine to America, and you cheapen that into making her a spy? Not to mention putting her life at risk!”
He waved that off. “That Lockheed of hers can outrun any unfriendly plane — and Mr. Noonan is not a civilian; he’s the anchor of this mission. We did not consider Miss Earhart to be in any danger. Even the Japs would think twice before shooting down Amelia Earhart because she was off course!”
“Off course in a plane whose belly’s packed with aerial survey cameras.”
That rated a shrug from Miller. “The world would write that off as the Japanese trying to cover up for their ill-advised actions. Which is something the Japs, who are hardly stupid, would figure out for themselves.”
“Then what the hell happened? It looks like they did fire on her...”