At the rather graceful-looking precinct house, Belgrade and I were taken to separate rooms. Captain Nielsen himself decided to question me. This suggested that he already believed in my innocence. The room was not uncomfortable, with a high, barred window, a cot, two chairs and a table with a desk lamp on it. The lamp’s bulb was a little too powerful for my eyes, but otherwise there was nothing sinister about the place. Mr Nielsen sat down on one of the chairs and I remained where I had settled myself on the bed. He asked me if I minded his smoking and when I made an acquiescent gesture he took a cigar from his case and lit it. ‘How well do you know Roy Belgrade, Mr Petersen?’ He looked at the sheet which had been filled out by the duty sergeant when we had arrived. ‘How often have you used him as a pilot?’
‘I had never seen him until yesterday,’ I said. ‘I am on my way to meet a ship. I work for an engineering company on the West Coast - it also has movie interests - and it’s important I return quickly. The company was prepared to pay for me to take a plane. I did not even speak to Belgrade personally. I suggest you get in touch with his employers, Western Aviation Services.’
‘As far as we can tell, Mr Petersen, Western Aviation is Roy Belgrade, one airplane and a local contact. We just nabbed the entire outfit.’ With the air of a man who had personally supervised the arrest of Legs Diamond and his gang, he blew satisfied smoke towards the ceiling.
‘Congratulations, captain.’ I got up from my bench. ‘Now I would suggest you contact Mr George Van der Kleer, who is a friend of mine, and ask him to vouch for me. He will tell you that I am a scientist.’
‘And you know nothing of Belgrade’s rum-running activities?’
‘How could I?’
‘You saw the liquor in his lockers?’
‘After I was airborne, yes. I intended to inform the authorities as soon as we reached New York. But you can imagine, I didn’t think it sensible to alert him. These people reach for the gun and the blackjack as casually as I reach for a slide-rule!’
Nielsen was close to being convinced. I extended a placatory hand. ‘If you could see your way to speeding things up, Captain Nielsen, I would be deeply grateful to you.’
‘You’re prepared to make a statement for us?’
‘I have nothing but loathing for people who abuse their responsibilities in this way. My moral views are well known. I have spoken publicly on the subject. I saw Belgrade make two stops, I saw him transfer cases to a waiting truck in Colorado and in Ohio. The man is a common criminal. Give me half-an-hour and I shall write down a clear description of the whole business. Meanwhile, if you could contact the Van der Kleers . . .’
‘It’s a deal,’ said Nielsen. Taking his cigar from his mouth he rose. ‘I’ll have some paper sent in and you can write out your statement. If this Van der Kleer speaks for you, you’re on your way again.’
‘But the plane?’
‘Impounded. You’ll have to get the train to New York, Mr Petersen.’
My fury against Belgrade intensified. When the moment came for my statement I ensured that my erstwhile Icarus would not again spread his wings for some time. Then I grew agitated when there was trouble contacting Mr Van der Kleer. ‘He doesn’t seem to want to know you,’ Nielsen informed me. I told him to mention the name of Mrs Mawgan. By now it was growing dark and my little girl disembarked from the S.S. Icosium next morning. I was assured by Mr Nielsen that the last train did not leave until around midnight. He went to the telephone and returned after a while with something of a frown on his face. ‘You’re okay. Van der Kleer says he’ll stand guarantee. He also told me to say that while in other circumstances he would be delighted to see you again he regrets,’ and Nielsen smiled at me, ‘that he can’t see you personally and wishes you a speedy journey to New York.’
‘He was always a gentleman.’ I sighed with relief. I had over an hour to get to the station. My bag was brought to me and I confirmed that its contents were all intact. I was relieved that I had taken the precaution of keeping my usual supply of ‘sneg’ on my person. ‘I wonder if you’d be good enough to find me a taxi.’
‘We’ll do better than that. We’ll personally make sure you get on the train.’
Their attitude had changed now they realised my powerful connections in the State, but I was too well-bred to take advantage of our reversed positions. As we waited for the car, I chatted about the city and its problems and assured them that I was working on plans which would one day revolutionise the manufacturing industries and rid the world of smoke and filth. ‘Sanitary working conditions ennoble the worker and advertise the humanity of the employer,’ I said. ‘A clean worker is a happier worker.’
‘I’ll buy a bottle.’ Nielsen seemed laconically enthusiastic. ‘Keep that pitch up and I’m liable to buy two.’
It was 11.30 before a car was ready. ‘It’s five minutes to the station,’ Nielsen reassured me as he handed me my bag. Together we walked into the silent street. One trolley disappeared with an introspective clank around a corner, its lights blinking out even as it moved. A uniformed man was driving the car. Nielsen opened the door for me and helped me in. ‘Make sure he gets on that eleven fifty-one,’ he told the driver. This was the first time I realised he was not coming with me. ‘I’m very grateful to you, captain.’
‘Sure.’ He touched the brim of his hat. ‘Have fun in New York, professor.’
With that, the car took off at top speed, its siren a caged gull, forcing me back into the seat. ‘What’s the hurry?’ I asked. ‘The captain said it was only five minutes to the station.’
‘That’s right.’ The driver took a corner at a terrifying angle. ‘But he’s forgotten there ain’t a eleven fifty-one no more. Last summer train leaves for New York eleven forty.’
‘And what’s the time now?’
‘Eleven forty.’ We moved downhill through the density of office buildings and hotels, passed through two traffic lights, crossed the tracks, heard the long, authoritative note of the great locomotive, and pulled up at the station in time to see the train lurching steadily into a blackness where its smoke resembled those mocking spirits who from time to time insinuate themselves into my dreams.
I was in despair. I sat, unable to speak, and watched as a uniformed man ran from the station to the car. For a moment I thought my driver was going to ask him to telegraph up the line to stop the train, but it was only some message about a burglary near the marine terminal. ‘There’s a hotel across the street.’ The policeman opened the door for me. ‘You can get the first train in the morning.’ Then he left me to struggle from his car to stand with my bag on the steps of the Union Station while a railway employee informed me that the first morning train did not leave until eight that particular day and that the hotel was a good, clean ‘commercial’ place where I could get a decent night’s rest. By now I was almost gibbering with anxiety. I told him the urgency of my situation. I had to be on the quay when the ship docked. Esmé was innocent of New York and its dangers. He could not help me, he said. He did not really care if I met the ship or not. Several terrifying possibilities went through my head. I pointed to the yards, down the line, where a number of massive shadows showed locos still making steam. ‘You say there are no trains. Where are they going?’ He told me they were freights and laughed. ‘You could try and ride the rails with the bums. But be careful.’ He sniggered. ‘Between the bulls and the darkies, there might not be much left of you by morning!’ Again, he indicated the hotel and advised me to send a telegram to the ship to say I would be a little late then catch a few hours sleep. I ignored the fool. I looked about for a taxi, but I was not sure even the hundred dollars in my wallet would cover the fare to New York, assuming I could find someone to take me. I became still more frantic. I followed the railroad man up the steps but he locked his door and pulled down his blind and would not respond to my rapping. I became confused for a while and simply sat on the step with my head in my hands. Then the call of the trains from the nearby yards reminded me that there was still a way of reaching New York in a few hours. I set off down the tracks towards the great confusion of steel and steam. I would bribe a driver to let me ride with him on the footplate. It was commonly done, I had heard, by travelling salesmen with urgent business.