Part 17 (1/2)

79.

'Who can pull off big jobs for only the New York Record to write about. To put it bluntly, I need an outfit of experienced, organized thugs to do what they do best. I want them to work for me full time. I want them to make news for me. No killing, no murdering. But a hijacking, a sensational robbery, most of all a name kidnapping. High-cla.s.s stuff. Front-page caliber.'

This was closer to Pagano's area, and he understood completely. 'This could be dangerous.'

'So is deep-sea diving and riding a s.p.a.ce capsule.'

'People'll be putting up their lives for - for news.'

'For money.' Armstead enunciated each word. 'The Cooper gang wants money, you said. I've got money.'

'What kind of money would you be talking about?'

'Maybe three million dollars a job.'

Pagano emitted a low whistle.

'Think they'd be interested?' Armstead wanted to know.

'Depends what you want them to do. But three mill. Yeah, they'd be interested.'

'Of course, I don't want them to know who I am. They must not know whom they are working for - or why. I want to a.s.sign them jobs - through you. No questions to be asked. I want the jobs done professionally, cleanly. For each job they'll get paid. You believe they'll be interested?'

'I'm guessing. I think so.'

'Can you find out for sure?'

'You mean make contact with Cooper?'

'Yes.'

'I can make contact,' said Pagano.

'Then make it,' said Armstead. It was an order. 'There'll be plenty in it for you, Gus. Go to London and find out if they'll cooperate.'

'You sound like you mean right away,'

'I mean tonight. I'll make arrangements for you. I expect to hear from you in forty-eight hours.'

At eleven o'clock in the evening, two days later, Armstead received his call.

He had just walked through the door of his Fifth Avenue penthouse overlooking Central Park when Hannah, from her wheelchair, a telephone receiver in her hand, raised her voice. 'Is that you, Edward?'

'It's me.'

'There's a long-distance call for you. From London.'

Armstead's heart quickened. 'Tell them to call me back on my private line. I'll take it in my study.'

He yanked off his raincoat, threw it aside, hurried to his study, let himself in, and carefully relocked his door from the inside. He strode to the white telephone, his very private telephone that had an 80 unlisted number different from the one for the other rooms of the penthouse. He waited a few moments for the phone to ring. Finally it rang.

Hastily he lifted the receiver. 'h.e.l.lo.'

A female operator's voice. 'Is this Mr. Armstead?'

'Yes, this is Edward Armstead.'

'Mr. Pagano calling from London, person-to-person.'

'Okay, put Mr. Pagano on.'

The line from London crackled, but Pagano's voice came on distinctly. 'You there, boss?'

'Hi, Gus. Okay, what's the word?'

'All signals Go.'

'All signals Go. What does that mean?'

'Cooper is definitely interested,' said Pagano. 'But there's just one thing -'

'They are interested, you say - but what?' 'They want to meet with you in person, over here. I think they want to know exactly what you have in mind for them. We can fix it so's you won't be recognized. If it's not too much trouble. I think it would be worth -'

'It's not too much trouble,' Armstead cut in. 'If they want to see me first, I'll see them. I'll be there.'

'Can you make it by tomorrow?'

'Yes, tomorrow's okay. I'll take the Concorde. I'll get on the first flight.'

'If you'll let me know your arrival time, I'll meet you at Heathrow. Set you up for a suite in the Ritz.'

'I'll let you know the time. You'll meet me at Heathrow? Fine. The suite at the Ritz is also fine.'

'You won't be bringing anybody along?'

'Bringing anybody? No, don't worry. I'll be alone. See you tomorrow.'

He hung up slowly.