Overload (52 page)

"Mr. London?" Unmistakably it was the same weak voice as on the telephone.

"Right. You Ernie, the janitor?"

The man in coveralls nodded. "Sure took your time."

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'Never mind that. Those men still here?"

'Inside." The janitor motioned to a metal door, similar to others on the

floors above.

'How many?"

'Three. Listen, how 'bout my money?"

"For Cbrissake!" London said impatiently. "You'll get it."

Lieutenant Wineski cut in. "Is anybody else in there?"

The janitor, looking surly, shook his head. "Ain't nobody else down here

but me."

"All right." Wineski moved forward, taking command. He told the other

detective and London, "We'll do this fast. Harry, you come in last. When

we're inside, stay back by the door until I tell you." To the janitor:

"You wait out here." Wineski put a hand on the metal door then ordered,

"Nowl"

As the door flew open, the trio rushed in.

Inside, against an interior wall some twenty-five feet away, three men

were working. Afterward Harry London would report with relish: "If we'd

mailed 'em a list, with specifications of how we'd like the evidence laid

out they couldn't have done better."

An electric current transformer cabinet-installed, then locked by GSP &

L-was open. Several transformer switches, it was discovered later, bad

been opened, bound with insulating tape, then closed. The effect was to

reduce electric meter recordings by a third. A few feet away a gas meter

had an illegal bypass partially exposed. Supplies and tools for the work

being done were spread around-insulated pliers, socket wrenches, lead

disc seals and a mechanic's seal press (both stolen from GSP & L), and

the transformer cabinet casing with a key-also stolen-in its lock.

Wineski announced in a loud, clear voice, "We are police officers." He

ordered, "Don't move! Leave everything where it is."

At the sound of the opening door, two of the men working bad spun around.

The third, who was lying full length and working on the gas meter bypass,

rolled sideways to see what was happening, then shifted quickly to a

crouch. All three were wearing neat, uniform-type coveralls with shoulder

patches bearing the intertwined initials Q.E.G.C. which later inquiry

would enlarge to Quayle Electrical & Gas Contracting.

Of the two men nearest the entry door, one was huge, bearded, and with

the physique of a wrestler. His forearms, where the sleeves were rolled

back, showed bulging muscles. ne other was young-he seemed little more

than a boy-with a narrow, sbarp-featured face. It registered instant

fright.

The big, bearded man was less intimidated. Ignoring the command not to

move, he grabbed a heavy pipe wrench, raised it, and leaped forward.

Harry London, who had stayed back as instructed, saw Wineski

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reach swiftly under his coat; an instant later a gun was in his hand. The

detective rapped out, "I'm a crack shot. Is you move another foot I'll put

a bullet in your leg." As the bearded giant hesitated: "Drop the

wrench-now!"

The other detective, Brown, had produced a gun also, and reluctantly the

would-be attacker obeyed.

"You by the walli" Wineski snapped; the third man, older than the other

two, was now standing upright and looked as if be would try to run.

"Don't start anything! just turn around and face that wall! You other

two-join him, do the same."

Scowling, with batred in his eyes, the bearded man moved back. The

youthful workman, his face white, his body visibly trembling, bad already

hurried to comply.

There was a pause in which three sets of handcuffs clicked.

"All right, Harry," Wineski called over. "Now tell us what all this stuff

means."

"It's the kind of solid evidence we've been looking for," the Property

Protection chief assured him. "Proof of big-time electric and gas steal-

ing."

"You'll swear to that in court?"

"Sure will. So will others. We'll give you as many expert witnesses as

you want."

"Good enough."

Wineski addressed the three handcuffed men. "Keep facing the wall but

listen carefully. You are all under arrest and I am required to advise

you of your rights. You are not obliged to make a statement. However, if

you do . . ."

When the words of the familiar Miranda ritual were finished, Wineski

motioned Brown and London to join him by the outer door. Keeping his

voice low, be told them, "I want to split these birds. From the look of

him, the kid's ready to break; he may talk. Brownie, get to a phone. Call

in for another car."

"Right." The second detective put away his gun and went out.

The door to the stairway was now open and, moments later, hurrying feet

could be beard coming down. As London and Wineski swung toward the

doorway, Art Romeo appeared and the two relaxed.

Harry London told his deputy, "Pay dirt. Take a look."

The little man who, as usual, looked like a shifty underworld cbaracter

himself, surveyed the scene and whistled softly.

Lieutenant Wineski, who had known Romeo before he worked for GSP & 1,

told him, "If that's camera equipment you've got, better start shooting."

"Will do, Lieutenant." Romeo unslung a black leather case from his

shoulder and began assembling a pbotoflash unit.

While he was taking several dozen photographs, from various angles,

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of the spread-out equipment and uncompleted illegal work, police rein-

forcements arrived-two uniformed officers, accompanied by the returning

Detective Brown.

A few minutes later the arrested men were led out-the youngest, still

frightened, first and separately. While one uniformed officer remained

to guard the evidence, Wineski followed. He told Harry London with a

wink, "Want to question that kid myself. Let you know what happens."

8

"Wineski was dead right," Harry London informed Nim Goldman. "The kid-he

was eighteen, by the way, and not long out of trade school-broke down and

spilled his guts. Then Wineski and Brown used what he told them to pry

more information out of the other two."

It was four days after the confrontation and arrests at the Zaco Build-

ing. Immediately following those events London had reported briefly to

Nim. Now, as Nim's guest at lunch in the officers' dining room at GSP &

L headquarters, he was supplying further details.

"Go ahead," Nim said, "tell me more." They bad paused to enjoy large

mouthfuls of lamb stew-a popular "special of the day" for which the chef

was noted.

"Well, according to Boris Wineski, when they questioned the big guy-his

name is Kasner-he didn't talk much. He's street-wise, has an arrest

record, no convictions. The older one, who was working on the gas bypass,

let out a few things we didn't know, then he clammed up too. By that

time, though, it didn't matter. The police had all the important

information-and their truck."

"Oh, yes, the truck. Did the police impound it?"

"Damn right!" Not surprisingly, London sounded happy; he bad been in an

upbeat mood for the past few days. "That truck was loaded up with even

more evidence of illegality than was left around in the Zaco Building.

There were electric meters, seals, locking rings and keys, meter-size

jumper cables, you name it. And almost all the stuff was

stolen-naturally. You can't buy those items on the open market. One thing

we now believe is that the Quayle people have a helper right here in the

company who has been their source of supply. We're working on the

accomplice angle."

"That Quayle outfit," Nim queried, "What's been found out about them?"

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"Plenty. First, there was enough damaging stuff on the truck and in the

Zaco Building for Wineski to ask for a warrant to search the Quayle

offices. He did ask, and he got it fast. Result: The police were in there

before the Quayle people even knew their men had been arrested."

"Don't let your stew get cold," Nim said. "It's good."

"Sure is. Fix it so that I eat up here more often, would you?"

"Go on getting the kind of results you did last week, and you could be up

here regularly before you know it."

The dining room, reserved for company vice presidents and above, and their

guests, was modest in size and decor, so as not to create an impression of

opulence when outsiders were brought in. But the food was exceptional. Its

quality far exceeded that of the general staff cafeteria located on a lower

floor.

"Getting back to Quayle Electrical & Gas," London said, "first they've got

a legit business-good size, with a fleet of twenty-five trucks. They also

have a string of subcontractors, smaller finns, to whom they farm out work.

The way it looks now-and again I'm quoting Lieutenant Wineski-is that

Quayle has used the legitimate side of its business as a cover for power

stealing, which they've been into in a big way. There was a lot more

material on their premises-the same kind of stuff that was on the truck

they sent to Zaco."

"Tell me one thing," Nim said. "If a company like Quayle was legit to begin

with, why in God's name would they get into power theft?"

London shrugged. "The oldest reason: Money. Some of this is guesswork, but

the way the pieces are coming together it looks as if Quayle -like a lot of

businesses nowadays-has had trouble making a profit because of high costs.

But the illegal stuff shows a big profit. Why? Because they can charge

maybe five, six, seven times what they would for ordinary work. And the

outfits they do it for-like the Zacc, Buildingare glad to pay because they

expect even bigger savings in their costs. Something else you have to

remember, Nim, is that until recently it's all been easy, a pushover;

they've gotten away with it."

"The way it all sounds," Nim said, "there's still a good deal to unravel?"

"A big ball of yarn," London acknowledged. "And it could be months before

the whole picture becomes clear. Right now, though, two things are helping.

One, the D.A.'s office is really interested; they've put a prosecutor on

the case and Wineski's working with him. Two, the Quayle outfit kept

detailed records of all its jobs, and those of subcontractors too."

Nim asked, "And the police have those records?"

"Right-except the D.A. may have them by now. They turned up in the search.

Only trouble is, there's nothing to show what work was le-

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gitimate, and what was illegal. That's where my department, my people, are

helping out."

:'In what way?"

'We're checking every job that the Quayle outfit did in the past year.

Something their records-work orders-show is precisely what materials were

used in each case. If we can show they were stolen or used for illegal

purposes-and in a lot of instances it looks as if we can-the D.A. will

have a big, fat, prosecutable case."

Nim ruminated, digesting the information be had been given. He asked,

"How about the company that owns the Zaco Building, and other people