“You hoped they were doing it for the money,” Isaac Bell retorted coldly.
Ted Whitmark hung his head. When he finally looked up again, he had tears in his eyes. “That’s what I hoped this time, too. But I’m scared it isn’t, and something tells me this time will be worse.”
The intercommunicating phone on Bell’s desk rang. He snatched it up. “What?”
“There’s a lady out here to see you and the gent you’re with. Miss Dorothy Langner. Should I let her in?”
“No. Tell her I’ll be out there shortly.” He hung up. “Continue, Ted. What has happened this time?”
“They want me to turn over one of my trucks going into the Brooklyn Navy Yard.”
“Who?”
“This smooth guy named O’Shay. I heard somebody call him Eyes. Must be his nickname. Do you know who I mean?”
“When do they want the truck?”
“Tomorrow. When the New Hampshire is loading food and munitions. She just finished her shakedown, and she’ll be ferrying a Marine Expeditionary Regiment to Panama to keep the Canal Zone election peaceful. My New York outfit got the provisions contract.”
“How big a truck?”
“The biggest.”
“Big enough to carry a couple of torpedoes?”
Whitmark chewed his lip. “Oh, God. Is that what they want it for?”
The door from the reception room opened, and Harry Warren walked in. Bell was turning back to Ted Whitmark when a sudden motion at the door caught his eye and he saw Dorothy Langner in a black sheath dress and black feathered hat slip through it right behind Harry Warren, who said, “Help you, ma’am?”
“I’m looking for Isaac Bell,” she said in her clear, musical voice. “There he is, I see him.” She rushed toward Bell’s desk, reaching into her handbag.
Whitmark jumped to his feet. “Hello, Dorothy. Told you I’d talk to Bell. This’ll square us, won’t it?”
Dorothy Langner searched his face. Then she looked at Bell. “Hello, Isaac. Is there someplace I could talk to Ted for a moment, in private?” Her beautiful silvery eyes were blank, and Bell had the eeriest sensation that she was blind. But she couldn’t be blind, she had just marched in under her own steam.
“I believe that Mr. Van Dorn’s office is empty. I’m sure he won’t mind.”
He guided them into Van Dorn’s office, closed the door, and stood close to it listening. He heard Whitmark repeat, “This will square us, won’t it?”
“Nothing will square us.”
“Dorothy?” asked Ted. “What are you doing?”
The answer was the sharp crack of a gunshot. Bell threw open the door. Ted Whitmark lay on his back, blood pouring from his skull. Dorothy Langner dropped the nickel pistol she was holding onto Whitmark’s chest, and said to Isaac Bell, “He killed my father.”
“Yamamoto Kenta killed your father.”
“Ted didn’t set the bomb, but he’s been passing information about Father’s work on Hull 44.”
“Did Ted tell you that?”
“He tried to get rid of his guilt confessing to me.”
Harry Warren rushed in, gun drawn, and knelt by the body. Then he grabbed Van Dorn’s telephone. “She missed,” he told Bell, and said to the operator, “Get a doctor.”
“How badly is he hurt?” asked Bell.
“She only creased him. It’s his scalp that’s bleeding so much.”
“He won’t die?”
“Not from this. In fact, I think he’s starting to wake up.”
“She didn’t shoot him,” said Bell.
“What?”
“Ted Whitmark tried to kill himself. She grabbed the gun. She saved his life.”
Harry Warren had wise, old eyes. “Tell me why he tried to kill himself, Isaac.”
“He’s a traitor. He just confessed to me that he’s been passing information to the spy.”
Harry Warren looked Bell full in the face, and said, “It appears that Miss Langner saved the louse’s life.”
The Hotel Knickerbocker’s house doctor rushed in with his bag trailed by bellhops lugging a stretcher. “Stand back, everybody. Please stand back.”
Bell led Dorothy to his desk. “Sit down.” He beckoned an apprentice. “Please bring the lady a glass of water.”
“Why did you do that?” Dorothy whispered.
“I would not have if you had succeeded in murdering him. But since you didn’t, I think you’ve been through enough without adding police charges to your misery.”
“Will the police believe it?”
“If Ted goes along with it. And I imagine he will. Now, tell me everything he told you.”
“He lost a lot of money gambling last fall in Washington. Someone in the game offered to lend him money. In exchange, he talked to Yamamoto.” She shook her head in anger and bitterness. “He still doesn’t realize that that man must have set him up to lose.”
“He told me it was bad luck,” said Bell. “Go on.”
“The same thing happened this spring in New York and then out in San Francisco. Now it’s happened again. This time, he finally realized the enormity of what he was doing. Or so he claimed. I think he was trying to get me to come back. I told him we were through. He found out about someone I’ve been seeing.”
“Farley Kent.”
“Of course you know,” she said wearily. “Van Dorns never give up. When Ted found out about Farley, I think he realized that nothing in his entire life had any truth to it. He got religion. He was probably hoping I’d be waiting when he got out of jail. Or weeping when they hung him for treason.”
“Shooting him must have disabused him of that notion,” Bell observed.
She smiled. “I’m not sure how I feel right now about not killing him. I meant to. I can’t believe I missed. I was so close.”
“In my experience,” said Bell, “people who miss a sure shot wanted to miss. Murder does not come easily to most.”
“I wish I had killed him.”
“You would hang for it.”
“I wouldn’t care.”
“Where would that leave Farley Kent?”
“Farley would-” she started to say but stopped abruptly.
Bell smiled gently. “You were about to say that Farley would understand, but you realize that is not so.”
She hung her head. “Farley would be devastated.”
“I’ve seen Farley at work. He strikes me as your sort of man. He loves his work. Do you love him?”
“Yes, I do.”
“May I have a man escort you to the Brooklyn Navy Yard?” She stood up. “Thank you. I know the way.”
Bell walked her to the door. “You made this case, Dorothy, when you vowed to clear your father’s name. No one has done more to save his and Farley’s work on Hull 44. Thanks to you, we discovered the spy, and you can rest assured we will get him.”
“Did Ted tell you anything that helps?”
Bell answered carefully, “He believes that he did. Tell me, how did Ted happen to find out about Farley Kent?”
“A letter from a busybody signed ‘A friend.’ Why are you smiling, Isaac?”
“The spy is getting desperate,” was all Bell would say, but he had a powerful feeling that O’Shay had tricked Ted Whitmark into passing him false information. The spy wanted Bell to believe that he would attack from the land when in fact he intended to attack, somehow, from the water.
Dorothy kissed his cheek and hurried down the grand stairway.
“Mr. Bell,” said the front-desk man, “Knickerbocker house dick calling for you.”
51
GOT SOME UNSAVORY TYPES AT THE FRONT DOOR,” THE Hotel Knickerbocker’s house detective reported. “Claim they want to talk to you, Mr. Bell.”
“What are their names?”