No. Craycroft was the one in the airplane. The one in the bank was Charles Ryterband, but we didn’t know that at first. He’d given his name as something else-William Roberts, something like that.
According to Deputy Commissioner Toombes’ log, the call to your office was placed at eleven minutes past twelve. Does that jibe with your recollection? Just now you said it was about twelve twenty.
It probably took a few minutes to get through to my desk. I had a lot of calls that morning.
What I’m trying to get at, Mr. Swarthout, didn’t your switchboard break in and tell you there was an emergency?
No.
No? That’s all-just no?
Nobody said anything about an emergency. When Andy Toombes came on the line, he said just what I’ve told you. He said, “We’ve got a nut on our hands, Phil.”
In other words nobody seemed to be taking it very seriously at that point, is that right?
Mr. Skinner, you’re not a police officer. I understand the Mayor’s intentions-setting up this independent review commission-but I think you’re going to have to accept the fact that those of us who are involved full time in security procedures have to contend with cranks and nut cases all the time. Most of them are just trying to attract attention, in their warped way. They threaten to assassinate the mayor or pollute the Central Park reservoir or off the pigs. They’re crazy people-they wouldn’t have the slightest idea how to go about actually doing what they threaten to do. I don’t know what motivates them-you’d have to ask a psychiatrist-but in my experience nearly all these crazies are attention cravers. Who knows? Maybe they’re just lonely-they want to be arrested so they’ll have somebody to talk to.
Then you’re saying neither you nor Deputy Commissioner Toombes took the threat seriously.
We take every threat seriously, Mr. Skinner. That’s our job.
Isn’t that a contradiction to what you just told me?
Not at all. Toombes took Ryterband seriously. Seriously enough to call me.
But not seriously enough to instruct his secretary to make it an emergency call?
It wasn’t an emergency yet. Look, every time there’s a parade down Fifth Avenue we get crank calls threatening to snipe at the parade from the rooftops. We have to sift every call, post men on every rooftop sometimes. But it’s not an emergency unless you actually find a guy up there with a rifle. Do you see what I’m trying to get at?
In other words you’d heard Ryterband’s threat but you didn’t know whether there was any truth in it.
We didn’t have any confirmation. Not that early. It was just another crank at that stage. Every business day somebody walks up to a bank teller in New York City and hands over a note saying, “I’ve got a gun in my pocket. Clean out your cash drawer.” Ninety-nine percent of the time there’s no gun in his pocket.
But it’s standard procedure for the tellers to hand over the money anyway, isn’t it?
Sure. He might turn but to be the one percent who’s got a real gun. We’ve got camera surveillance in the banks. Silent alarms. It’s SOP to let the guy walk out with the money. Nine times out of ten he’s nabbed before he gets across the sidewalk, or identified from the photograph and arrested within twelve hours. We’d have done the same thing with Ryterband except his demands were so outrageous.
Could you explain that a bit more?
If a guy walks up to the teller’s window and hands over a note that says, “I’ve got a gun in my pocket. Give me five million dollars in cash,” I mean, let’s face it, you’re going to have to see the gun before you think about handing over that much money, even if you were able to. And you couldn’t anyway, obviously, because nobody’s got five million dollars in cash lying around, have they? You’ve got to be certifiably crazy to make demands that can’t possibly be met.
All right, let’s move ahead. The Deputy Commissioner called you. What action did you take?
Well, the first thing I did was to ask him what action he’d taken. There’s no point in duplicating effort. Toombes told me he’d already notified the FBI, and he’d dispatched a team from Special Investigations down to the Merchants Trust to talk to Ryterband. The bank’s own security guards were holding Ryterband in custody in Maitland’s office. He wasn’t going anywhere. I told Toombes I’d get back to him, and he said he’d get back to me as soon as he had further word from the SI sergeant on the Ryterband interrogation. Then I got on the horn to the Port Authority security office and told them to check out the airplane.
By “check out the airplane” you mean give it a close looking over?
No, Mr. Skinner, by “checking it out” I mean finding out whether the airplane existed at all.
Couldn’t you see it? Hear it?
We work in sealed offices you know. Like this one. Air-conditioning, climate-control ventilation systems. The windows don’t open. They’re double-pane thermal glass. Look out that window, Mr. Skinner. What do you see? A steel-and-glass egg crate just like this one. You’d have to crane your neck and push your nose against the window to get a glimpse of a patch of sky. No, I didn’t hear anything and I didn’t see anything. I asked the Port Authority people to send one of their helicopters up and have a look.
Tell me this. How much time passed between Ryterband’s first appearance on the scene and the Deputy Commissioner’s call to you?
That would be hearsay, wouldn’t it?
We’re not in court.
I know. But I also know what you’re getting at.
I’m not trying to trick you, Mr. Swarthoui.
You’re doing your job, Mr. Skinner. Your job is to find out whether we made mistakes in handling the situation. To find out how efficiently or inefficiently we handled it. That makes it a sensitive question, from my point of view. You see that? That’s why I’d just as soon not make guesses at how long it took. I wasn’t in Maitland’s office. I don’t know how long Ryterband had been there before they called me. All I know is what they told me, and I’d just as soon you got that information from the people who were actually there. Maitland talked to Ryterband, then he called in his own security people, then they called the police, and it went up the ladder of command in the PD, and at some point the police called me. That was the order of events. It’s standard. Now as to how long it all took, I’d rather not speculate. I’d prefer to testify to my own participation and the things I observed firsthand. Is that unreasonable?
Would you like a cup of coffee?
Yes, thanks.
Maitland
Could you give us your name and title please, for the record?
Paul Bankhead Maitland. I’m fifty-four. I maintain residences in Brewster in Putnam County, and at Sixty-two Sutton Place. I’m the president and chief executive officer of the Merchants Trust Bank. Our head offices are at Sixty Beaver Street.
In the Wall Street area.
Yes, certainly.
I mention that because the threat must have been particularly menacing to you in that area, where so many tall densely populated buildings are crowded so close together.
It would have been menacing enough in an open cornfield, I can assure you.
We’re very grateful you volunteered your time to assist in this inquiry. Can you tell me what happened on May the twenty-second, beginning with the arrival of Charles Ryterband in your office?
Actually it would be better to start at the beginning, wouldn’t it?
Excuse me. I thought that was the beginning.
I’d rather be precise about it. The man made an appointment with me for that morning, but the appointment had been made two days earlier-on the Monday. Indicating, you see, that they had planned it with some care.
I see.
Someone-I assume it was Ryterband-called our public-relations office on the Monday. The twentieth of May that was. He gave his name as Willard Roberts and identified himself as a journalist with Business Week.
And he asked for an interview with you?
Yes. He evidently said the magazine was doing a cover story on the subject of the prime rate. He must have impressed our public-relations people with his plausibility. An appointment was arranged through my secretary.
For Wednesday morning, the twenty-second?
Yes. I’m told Roberts-Ryterband-insisted on that day and time, pleading the exigencies of the magazine’s deadline. All very plausible, you see?
Yes. Very well. You made the appointment, and he showed up on schedule. What time was that?
You can understand that I’ve asked a few questions myself, for my own clarification. My secretary informs me that he arrived punctually on the twenty-sixth floor. That was at ten o’clock. Actually he may have been a few minutes early. I had a meeting of the executive vice-presidents that morning at nine and it ran a bit long. Ryterband was kept waiting for perhaps fifteen minutes beyond the appointed hour before I could see him. He was visibly agitated when my secretary ushered him into my office.
Agitated by the delay or by nervousness caused by his intentions?
That would be hard to say. I assumed at the time that it was caused by the delay.
How did he begin?
My secretary was still in the room at that point. He was containing himself, I thought, with visible effort. He seemed to have to force himself to utter the amenities-how he appreciated my kindness in taking the time to grant the interview, that sort of thing.
Then your secretary left the room?
Yes. Then an immediate change came over the man. He seated himself, then stood up and went straight to the window behind my desk and peered upward toward the sky.
You must have thought that was a bit odd.
Yes, of course, I did. But he was talking all the time, in a hoarse voice. He was terribly upset. He berated me for the delay in admitting him to my office. He ranted on briefly, about the arrogance of executives and doctors and people of that sort who make it a habit of keeping people waiting. “Cooling our heels,” that was the phrase he used. I was on the point of having him thrown out of my office. Then he wheeled toward me with quite a terrifying grin on his face. I couldn’t describe it. For a moment I was terrified-by the sheer intensity of it. He’d broken out in a sweat. I can remember it vividly. My hands were locked onto the arms of my chair as if it were a dentist’s chair. It was quite remarkable, you see-all this happened before he uttered any threats at all. It was simply his face, his demeanor. It was like having some wild predator loose in my office.
How soon did he come to the point?
Almost instantly. He was standing by the side of my desk, looming over me. He was leaning on his palms, on the desk. He said I had to listen very carefully to him-he said thousands of lives depended on it.
Excuse me, but what time was this?
I’d say it must have been ten twenty or so. Not later than ten twenty-five.
Thank you. I’m sorry I interrupted-go on.
He told me about the airplane.
Can you recall precisely what he said? His exact words?
I’ve tried to reconstruct it, of course. But I was stunned by what he said.
I understand. But if you could try to recall what he told you…
He said his partner was “up there.” He pointed toward the ceiling, the top of the window. A rather wild gesture-he just threw up his arm. His partner, he said-or perhaps he said “my brother”-I’m not sure; he used the terms interchangeably later on, but I’m fairly sure that in the beginning he only referred to the man in the airplane as his partner. I’m sorry, I keep digressing. I’m trying to be accurate.
I appreciate that, Mr. Maitland. Take your time.
He said his partner was up there in an airplane. Actually he didn’t use the word “airplane.” I remember now-he was very specific, he pronounced the phrase with precise care. “A Flying Fortress bomber.” He said his partner was up there, above the city, in a Flying Fortress bomber. He said if I didn’t do exactly as I was told, his partner would rain high-explosive on the city of New York. That was his phrase, or something very close to it.
Then he told you his demands?
He may have. I’m afraid I can’t remember exactly the order of events. I was stunned… I’ve said that, haven’t I?
Just reconstruct it as clearly as you can, Mr. Maitland. Ryterband said his partner would drop bombs on the city if you didn’t cooperate. Then what happened?
He kept talking very rapidly. I had to stop him. I must have been rather dazed. It wasn’t so much what he’d said. We’ve had absurd threats before, of various kinds. But it was the intensity of his presence. That atavistic terror he somehow inspired. It’s very hard to describe. I found it difficult to think. I couldn’t follow what he was saying. I had to interrupt him, although I was afraid to. Does that make sense to you?
I think so.
I just don’t know what he was saying at first. I had to make him start again and speak slowly. He didn’t like that-it enraged him even more. He stormed around my office in exasperation. Under other circumstances it would have been comical-he seemed on the verge of apoplexy. I’m sorry. I’m not narrating this very coherently.
You’re doing just fine, Mr. Maitland. Just tell it in your own words, anyway you like. I’ll ask questions if anything is unclear.
Yes, of course. Very well-just let me get a grip on myself.