June 27, 2023 • 30 mins
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Espionage adventures, Covert operations, Thrilling missions, International intrigue, Spy thriller, Government agents, Undercover work, Secret intelligence, Political espionage, Intriguing conspiracies, High-stakes espionage, Intelligence gathering, Hidden identities, Espionage secrets, Political thrillers, Spy network, Secret missions, Classified operations, Intrigue and suspense, Government secrets
Espionage adventures, Covert operations, Thrilling missions, International intrigue, Spy thriller, Government agents, Undercover work, Secret intelligence, Political espionage, Intriguing conspiracies, High-stakes espionage, Intelligence gathering, Hidden identities, Espionage secrets, Political thrillers, Spy network, Secret missions, Classified operations, Intrigue and suspense, Government secrets
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Episode Transcript
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(00:00):
Chapter six. A matter of record, What was that you mentioned last week?
Something about the record of Chrysler's Dragoserenade reminding you of the capture of
some one, I asked Bill Quinnone summer evening, as he painfully hoisted
his game leg upon the porch railing. Sure it does, replied Quinn,
(00:26):
never fails. Put it on again, so I can get the necessary atmosphere,
as you writers call it, andpossibly I'll spill the yarn, provided
you guarantee to keep the ginger aleflowing freely. That and olive oil are
about the only throat lubricants left us. So I slipped on the record,
(00:47):
rustled a couple of bottles from theice box, and settled back comfortably.
For when Quinn once started on oneof his reminiscences of government detective work,
he didn't like to be into rupted. That's the piece, all right,
Bill remarked, as the strains ofthe violin drifted off into the night.
(01:08):
Funny how a few notes of musiclike that could nail a criminal, while
at the same time it was savingthe lives of nobody knows how many other
people remember, Paul Wimer, continuedQuinn, picking up the thread of his
story. He was the most dangerousof the entire gang that helped von Bernstorff,
(01:30):
von Pappen and the rest of thecrew plot against the United States at
a time when we were supposed tobe entirely neutral. An Austrian by birth,
Wimer was as thoroughly a hunt atheart as anyone who ever served the
Hohenzollers, And in spite of hissize, he was as slippery as they
(01:51):
make them. Back in the pastsomewhere he had been a detective in the
service of the Atlas Line, butfor years before the war was superintendent of
the police attached to the Hamburg Americanboats. That, of course, gave
him the inside track in every bitof deviltry he wanted to be mixed up
(02:13):
in, for he had made ithis business to cultivate the acquaintance of war
frats, dive keepers, and allthe rest of the scum of the Seven
Seas that haunts the docks. Standingwell over six feet, Wimer had a
pair of fists that came in mightyhandy in a scuffle, and a tongue
that could curl itself around all theblasphemies of a dozen languages. There wasn't
(02:38):
a waterfront where they didn't hate him, Neither was there a waterfront where they
didn't fear him. Of course,when the war broke in August nineteen fourteen,
the Hamburg American Line didn't have anyfurther official use for Wimer. Their
ships were tied up in neutral orhome port, and Heir Paul was out
(03:01):
of a job for at least tenminutes. But he was entirely too valuable
a man for the German organization tooverlook for longer than that, and von
Pappen in Washington immediately added him tohis organization with blanket instructions to go the
limit on any dirty work he caredto undertake. Later, he worked for
(03:24):
von Bernstorff, doctor Dumba, theAustrian ambassador, and doctor von Nuber,
the Austrian consul in New York,but von Pappen had first claim upon his
services and did not hesitate to pressthem, as proven by certain entries in
the check book of the Military Attacheduring the spring and summer of nineteen fifteen.
(03:51):
Of course, it didn't take theSecret Service and the men from the
Department of Justice very long to geton to the fact that Weimer was altogether.
They're too close to the German embassyfor the safety and comfort of the
United States government. But what werethey to do about it. We weren't
at war then, and you couldn'tarrest a man merely because he happened to
(04:13):
know von Papen and the rest ofhis precious companions. You had to have
something on him, something that wouldstand up in court, and Paul Wimer
was too almighty clever to let thathappen. When you remember that it took
precisely one year to land this Austrian, one year of constant watching and unceasing
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espionage, you will see how wellhe conducted himself. And the government sleuths
weren't the only ones who were afterhim either. Captain Kenney of the New
York Police Force lent mighty efficient aidand actually invented a new system of trailing
in order to find out just whathe was up to. In the old
(05:00):
days, you told a man togo out and follow a suspect, and
that was all there was to it. The shadow would trail along half a
block or so in the rear,keeping his man always in view, and
bring home a full account of whathe had done. All day. But
you couldn't do that with Wimer.He was too foxy. From what some
(05:23):
of the boys have told me,I think he took a positive delight in
throwing them off the scent, whetherhe had anything up its sleeve or not.
One day, for example, youcould have seen his big bulk swinging
nonchalantly up Broadway as if he didn'thave a care in the world. A
hundred feet or more behind him wasBob Dugan, one of Kenney's men.
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When Wimer disappeared into the subway stationat Times Square, Dugan was right behind
him, and when the Austrian boardedthe local for a Grand Central station,
Dugan was on the same train,on the same car in fact. But
when they reached the station things beganto happen. Wimer left the Local and
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commenced to stroll up and down theplatform, waiting until a local train and
an express arrived at the same time. That was his opportunity. He made
a step or two forward as ifto board the express, and Dugan,
not wishing to make himself too conspicuous, slipped on board just as the doors
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were closing, only to see Wimerpushed back and jam his way on the
local variations of that stunt occurred timeafter time. Even the detailing of two
men to follow him failed in itspurpose, For the Austrian would enter a
big office building, leap into anexpress elevator just as it was about to
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ascend, slip the operator a dollarto stop at one of the lower floors,
and be lost for the day oruntil someone picked him up by accident.
So Cap Kenney called in four ofhis best men and told them that
it was essential that Weimer be watched. Two of you, he directed,
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stick with him all the time.Suppose you locate him the first thing in
the morning at his house on twentyfourth Street, for example, you Cartrell
Station yourself two blocks up the street, Gary, you go the same distance
down. Then, no matter whichway he starts, he'll have one of
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you in front of him and onebehind. The man in front will have
to use his wits to guess whichway he intends to go and to beat
him to it. If he boardsa car, the man in front can
pick him up with a certainty thatthe other will cover the trail in the
rear. In that way, youought to be able to find out where
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he is going and possibly what heis doing there. The scheme, thanks
to the quick thinking of the menassigned to the job, worked splendidly for
months. At least it worked inso far as keeping a watch on Wymer
was concerned. But that was all. In the summer of nineteen fifteen,
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the government knew precisely where Wymer hadbeen for the past six months, with
whom he had talked to, andso on, but the kernel of the
nut was missing. There wasn't theleast clue to what he had talked about
and what deviltry he had planned.Without that information, all the dope the
government had was about as useful asa movie to a blind man. Washington
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was so certain that Wymer had thekey to a number of very important developments,
among them the first attempts to blowup the welland canal, that the
Chief of the Secret Service made aspecial trip to New York to talk to
Kenny. Isn't it possible, hesuggested, to plant your men close enough
to Wimer to find out, forexample, what he talks about over the
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phone. Kenny smiled grimly. Chief, he said, that's been done.
We've tapped every phone that Wymer's likelyto use in the neighborhood of his house,
And every time he talks from apublic station, one of our men
cuts in from near by by anarrangement with Central and gets every word.
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But that bird is too wary tobe caught with chaff of that kind.
He's evidently worked out a verbal codeof some kind that changes every day.
He tells the man at the otherend, for example, to be at
the drug store in the corner ofseventy third and Broadway at three o'clock tomorrow
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afternoon and wait for a phone callin the name of Williams. Our man
is always at the place at theappointed hour, but no call ever arrives.
Seventy third and Broadway very evidently meanssome other address, but it's useless
to try and guess which one.You'd have to have a man at every
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pay station in town to follow thatlead. How about overhearing his directions to
the men he meets in the open, Not a chance in the world.
His rendezvous are always public places,the Pennsylvania or Grand Central station, a
movie theater, a hotel, lobby, or the like. There he can
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put his back against the wall andmake sure no one is listening in he's
on to all the tricks of thetrade, and it will take a mighty
clever man or a bunch of themto nail him, mused the Chief.
Well at that, I believe I'vegot the man anyone I know, Yes,
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I think you do. Morton Maxwellremember him work on the Castleman diamond
case here a couple of years agofor the customs people, and was also
responsible for uncovering the men behind thesugar tax fraud. He isn't in the
Service, but he's working for theDepartment of Justice, and I'm certain they'll
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turn him loose on this if Iasked them to. Maxwell can get to
the bottom of Wimer's business, ifanyone can, let me talk to Washington.
And within an hour after the Chiefhad hung up the receiver, Morton
Maxwell, better known as mort washeaded toward New York with instructions to report
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at Secret Service headquarters in that city. Once there, the Chief and Kenny
went over the whole affair with him. Cotrell and Garry and the other men
who had been engaged in shadowing theelusive Wimer were called in to tell their
part of the story, and everycard was laid upon the table. When
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the conference concluded, sometime after midnight, the Chief turned to Maxwell and inquired,
well, what's your idea about it? For a full minute, mort
smoked on in silence and gazed offinto space. Men who had just met
him were apt to think this opposea play to the grandstand, but those
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who knew him best realized that Maxwell'salert mind was working fastest in such moments,
and that he much preferred not tomake any decision until he had turned
things over in his head. There'sjust one point which doesn't appear to have
been covered, he replied, then, as Kenny started to cut in,
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No, Chief, I said,appeared not to have been covered very possibly.
You have all the information on itand forgot to hand it out.
Who does this Wimer live with?He lives by himself in a house on
twenty fourth Street near seventh Avenue.Boards there, but has the entire second
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floor. So far as we've beenable to find out. He has never
been married, No trace of anywife on this side anyhow, never travels
with women, probably afraid they'd talktoo much. Has he any relatives?
None that I know of. Waita minute, Coughtrell interrupted. I dug
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back into Wimer's record before the war, ended his official connection with the steamship
company, and one of the pointsI picked up was that he had a
cousin, a man named George Busch, formerly employed on one of the boats.
Where is Bush now, asked Maxwell. We haven't been able to locate
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him, admitted the police detective.Not that we've tried very hard, because
the trail didn't lead in his direction. I don't even know that he is
in this country, but it's likelythat he is because he was on one
of the boats that was interned herewhen the war broke again. It was
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a full minute before Maxwell spoke,butsch he said, finally appears to be
the only link between Wimer and theouter world. It's barely possible that he
knows something, and as we can'tafford to overlook any clue, suppose we
start work along that line. I'lldig into it myself the first thing in
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the morning, and I certainly wouldappreciate any assistance that your men could give
me. Chief tell them to makediscreet inquiries about Buch, his appearance,
habits, et cetera, and totry to find out whether he is on
this side. Now I'm going toturn in for something seems to tell me
that the busy season has arrived.At that Maxwell wasn't far wrong. The
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weeks that followed were well filled withwork, but it was entirely unproductive of
results. Wimer was shadowed day andnight, his telephones tapped, and his
mail examined, but save for thefact that his connection with the German embassy
became increasingly apparent, no further evidencewas forthcoming. The search for Buch was
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evidently futile, for that personage appearedto have disappeared from the face of the
earth. All that Maxwell and theother men who worked on the matter could
discover was that Buch, a youngAustrian whose description they secured, had formerly
been an intimate of Wimer. Thelatter had obtained his appointment to a minor
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office in the Hamburg American line,and Butch was commonly supposed to be a
stool pigeon for the master plotter.But right there the trail stopped. No
one appeared to know whether the Austrianwas in New York, or the United
States for that matter, though oneinformant did admit that it was quite probable
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Butch and the big fellow had arowed The last time over was the information
Maxwell secured at the cost of afew drinks, something about some money that
Wimer is supposed to have owed himfifteen dollars or some such amount. I
didn't hear about it until afterward,but it appears to have been a pretty
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lively scrap while it lasted. Ofcourse, Butch didn't have a chance against
the big fellow. He could handlea bull, but the young Austrian threatened
to tip his hand, said heknew a lot of stuff that would be
worth a good deal more money thanwas coming to him, and all that
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sort of thing. But the shipdocked the next day, and I haven't
seen or heard of him since.The idea of foul play at once leaped
into Maxwell's mind, but investigation ofpolice records failed to disclose the discovery of
anything answering to the description of GeorgeBusch, and as Captain Kenny pointed out,
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it is a decidedly difficult matter todispose of a corpse in such a
way as to not arouse at leastthe suspicions of the police. As a
last resort, about the middle ofSeptember, Maxwell had a reward posted on
the bulletin board of every police stationin New York and the surrounding country for
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the apprehension of George Buch Austrian age, about twenty four, height, five
feet eight inches, hair, blondecomplexion, fair eyes, blue sandy mustache.
As Captain Kenny pointed out, thoughthe description would apply to several thousand
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men of German parentage in the city, and to a good many more who
didn't have a drop of teutonic bloodin their veins. True enough, Maxwell
was forced to admit, but wecan't afford to overlook a bet, even
if it is a thousand to oneshot. As luck would have it,
the thousand to one shot one.On September twenty fifth, nineteen seventeen,
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Detective Garry returned to headquarters distinctly crestfallen. Wimer had given him the slip in
company with another man whom the detectivedid not know. The Austrian had been
walking up sixth Avenue that afternoon whena machine swung in from thirty sixth Street,
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and the Austrian had leaped aboard withoutwaiting for it to come to a
full stop. Of course, therewasn't a taxi in sight, said Gary
ruefully, and before I convinced thenearest chauffeur that my badge wasn't phony.
They'd gone. That's the first timein months, Gary replied. He knows
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that he's followed, all right,and he's cagy enough to keep in the
open and pretend to be above board, right, commented the Department of Justice.
Operative, and this move would appearto indicate that something was doing better.
Phone all your stations to watch outfor him, cap But nothing more
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was seen or heard of Airwimer forfive days. Meanwhile, events moved rapidly
from Maxwell. On September twenty sixth, the day after the Austrian disappeared,
one of the policemen whose beat layalong Fourteenth Street near Third Avenue, asked
to see the government detective. Myname's Riley, announced the copper, with
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a brogue as broad as the toesof his shoes. Does this Austrian?
This here? Butch fella you're lookingfor like music? Is he nuts about
it? Music? Echoed Maxwell.I'm sure I don't know. But wait
a minute, Yes, that's whatthat chap he used to know him on
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the boat told me, saying hewas forever playing a fiddle when he was
off duty, and that Wimer threwit overboard one day in a fit of
rage. Why what's the connection?Nothing in particular, save that a little
girl I'm rather sweet on works ina music store on Fourteenth Street, and
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she and I was talking things overlast night, and I happened to mention
the reward offered for this bush fellow. Why, says she, That sounds
just like the duchy that used tocome into the shop a whole lot a
year or so ago. He wascrazy about music and kept himself pretty nigh
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broke. Buying those expensive new recordsgot me to save him every violin one
that came out. Um, yes, muttered Maxwell. But has the young
lady seen anything of this chap latelythat she has not? Riley replied,
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And right, there's the big idea. Once a week regular another Dutchman comes
in and buys a record. Andhe told Katy that's my girl's name.
Last winter that the selections were fora man that used to be a steady
customer of hers, but who isnow laid up in bed, in bed
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for over a year, exclaimed Maxwell, his face lighting up, held prisoner
somewhere in the neighborhood of that shopon Fourteenth Street. Because the big Austrian
hasn't the nerve to make away withhim, and yet fears that he knows
too much. Look here, Riley, suppose you and miss Katy take a
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few nights off. I'll substitute forher and make it all right with the
man who owns the store. ThenI can get a line on this buyer
of records for sick men. Won'tit be better, sir, if we
hung around outside the store and letKaty give us the high sign when he
comes in, then we could bothtrail him back to where he lives.
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You're right, Riley, it wouldWill I meet you tonight at the corner
of fourteenth Street and Fight Avenue ateight o'clock, Katy says, The man
never gets there before nine. I'llbe there, said Maxwell, and he
was. But nothing out of theordinary rewarded their vigil the first night,
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nor the second. On the thirdnight, however, just after the clock
in the Metropolitan Tower had boomed ninetimes, a rather nondescript individual sauntered into
the music store, and Riley's quickeye saw the girl behind the counter put
her left hand to her chest.Then she coughed, that's the signal,
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sir, warned the policeman in awhisper, and that's the guy or after
had the man turned around as hemade his way toward a dark and forbidding
house on thirteenth Street, not farfrom Fourth Avenue, he might have caught
sight of two shadows skulking along notfifty feet behind him, but at that
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he would have to have been prettyquick, for Maxwell was taking no chances
on losing his prey, and hehad cautioned the policeman not to make a
sound. When their quarry ascended thesteps of number two forty seven. Riley
started to move after him, butthe Department of Justice operative halted him.
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There's no hurry, stated Maxwell.He doesn't suspect we're here, and besides,
it doesn't make any difference if hedoes lock the door. I've got
a skeleton key handy that's guaranteed toopen anything. Riley grunted, but stayed
where he was until Maxwell gave thesignal to advance. Once inside the door,
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which responded to a single turn tothe key, the policeman and the
government agent halted in the pitch blackdarkness and listened. Then from an upper
floor came the sound for which Maxwellhad been waiting the first golden notes of
a violin played by a master hand. The distance and the closed doorway which
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intervened killed all the harsh mechanical toneof the phonograph, and only the wonderful
melody of Drigo's serenade came down tothem on tiptoe. Though they knew their
movements would be masked by the soundsof the music, Riley and Maxwell crept
up the third floor and halted outsidethe door from which the sounds came.
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Wait until the record is over,directed Maxwell, and then break down that
door. Have your gun handy,and don't hesitate to shoot anyone who tries
to injure Bush. I'm certain he'sheld prisoner here, and it may be
that the men who are guarding himhave instructions not to let him escape at
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any cost. Ready, let's go. The final note of the Chrysler record
had not died away before Riley's shoulderhit the flimsy door, and the two
detectives were in the room. Maxwellbarely had time to catch a glimpse of
a pale wan figure on the bedand to sense the fact that there were
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two other men in the room.When there was a shout from Riley and
a spurt of flame from his revolver. With a cry, the man nearest
the bed dropped his arm and apistol clattered to the floor, the barrel
still singing from the impact of thepoliceman's bullet. The second man, realizing
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that time was precious, leaped straighttoward Maxwell, his fingers reaching for the
agent's throat. With a half laugh, More ubbed his automatic and brought the
butt down with sickening force on hisassailant's head. Then he swung around and
covered the man whom Riley had disarmed. Don't worry about him, Sir,
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said the policeman. His arm willbe numb half an hour from now.
What do you want to do withthe lad in the bed? Get him
out of here as quickly as wecan. We won't bother with these swine.
They have the law on their sideanyway, because we broke in here
without a warrant. I only wantBush. When he had propped the young
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Austrian up in a comfortable chair inthe Federal Building and had given him a
glass of brandy to strengthen his nerves. The Lord only knows what they'll have
to do in the future. Maxwellgot the whole story and more than he
had dared hoped for. Bush,following his quarrel with Wimer, had been
held prisoner in the house on ThirteenthStreet for over a year because, as
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Maxwell had figured, the Austrian didn'thave the nerve to kill him and didn't
dare let him loose. Barely enoughfood was allowed to keep him alive,
and the only weakness that his cousinhad shown was in permitting the purchase of
one phonograph record a week in orderto cheer him up a little. Naturally,
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said Busch, I chose the Chryslerrecords because he's an Austrian and a
marvelous violinist. Did Wimer ever cometo see you, inquired Maxwell. He
came in every now and then totaunt me and to say that he was
going to have me thrown in theriver some day soon. That didn't frighten
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me, but there were other thingsthat did. He came in last week,
for example, and boasted that hewas going to blow up a big
canal, and I was afraid hemight be caught or killed. That would
have meant no more money for themen who were guarding me and I was
too weak to walk even to thewindow to call for help. A big
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canal, Maxwell repeated, he couldn'tmean the Panama No, that's impossible.
I have it the welland canal,and in an instant he was calling the
Niagara Police on the long distance phone, giving a detailed description of Wimer and
his companions. As it turned out, concluded Quinn reaching for his empty glass.
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Wymer had already been looking over theground. He was arrested, however,
before the dynamite could be planted,and thanks to Butch's evidence, indicted
for violation of Section thirteen of thePenal Code. Thus did a phonograph record
and thirty pieces of silver the thirdthirty half dollars that Weimer owned Busch lead
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directly to the arrest of one ofthe most dangerous spies in the German service.
Let's have mister Drigo's serenade once moreand pledge mort Maxwell's health than ginger
Ale unless you have us still concealedaround the house, and if you have,
I will be in duty bound totell Jimmy Reynolds about it. He's
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the lad that holds the record forpersistency and cleverness in discovering moonshiners, end
of chapter six,
Chapter six. A matter of record, What was that you mentioned last week?
Something about the record of Chrysler's Dragoserenade reminding you of the capture of
some one, I asked Bill Quinnone summer evening, as he painfully hoisted
his game leg upon the porch railing. Sure it does, replied Quinn,
(00:26):
never fails. Put it on again, so I can get the necessary atmosphere,
as you writers call it, andpossibly I'll spill the yarn, provided
you guarantee to keep the ginger aleflowing freely. That and olive oil are
about the only throat lubricants left us. So I slipped on the record,
(00:47):
rustled a couple of bottles from theice box, and settled back comfortably.
For when Quinn once started on oneof his reminiscences of government detective work,
he didn't like to be into rupted. That's the piece, all right,
Bill remarked, as the strains ofthe violin drifted off into the night.
(01:08):
Funny how a few notes of musiclike that could nail a criminal, while
at the same time it was savingthe lives of nobody knows how many other
people remember, Paul Wimer, continuedQuinn, picking up the thread of his
story. He was the most dangerousof the entire gang that helped von Bernstorff,
(01:30):
von Pappen and the rest of thecrew plot against the United States at
a time when we were supposed tobe entirely neutral. An Austrian by birth,
Wimer was as thoroughly a hunt atheart as anyone who ever served the
Hohenzollers, And in spite of hissize, he was as slippery as they
(01:51):
make them. Back in the pastsomewhere he had been a detective in the
service of the Atlas Line, butfor years before the war was superintendent of
the police attached to the Hamburg Americanboats. That, of course, gave
him the inside track in every bitof deviltry he wanted to be mixed up
(02:13):
in, for he had made ithis business to cultivate the acquaintance of war
frats, dive keepers, and allthe rest of the scum of the Seven
Seas that haunts the docks. Standingwell over six feet, Wimer had a
pair of fists that came in mightyhandy in a scuffle, and a tongue
that could curl itself around all theblasphemies of a dozen languages. There wasn't
(02:38):
a waterfront where they didn't hate him, Neither was there a waterfront where they
didn't fear him. Of course,when the war broke in August nineteen fourteen,
the Hamburg American Line didn't have anyfurther official use for Wimer. Their
ships were tied up in neutral orhome port, and Heir Paul was out
(03:01):
of a job for at least tenminutes. But he was entirely too valuable
a man for the German organization tooverlook for longer than that, and von
Pappen in Washington immediately added him tohis organization with blanket instructions to go the
limit on any dirty work he caredto undertake. Later, he worked for
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von Bernstorff, doctor Dumba, theAustrian ambassador, and doctor von Nuber,
the Austrian consul in New York,but von Pappen had first claim upon his
services and did not hesitate to pressthem, as proven by certain entries in
the check book of the Military Attacheduring the spring and summer of nineteen fifteen.
(03:51):
Of course, it didn't take theSecret Service and the men from the
Department of Justice very long to geton to the fact that Weimer was altogether.
They're too close to the German embassyfor the safety and comfort of the
United States government. But what werethey to do about it. We weren't
at war then, and you couldn'tarrest a man merely because he happened to
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know von Papen and the rest ofhis precious companions. You had to have
something on him, something that wouldstand up in court, and Paul Wimer
was too almighty clever to let thathappen. When you remember that it took
precisely one year to land this Austrian, one year of constant watching and unceasing
(04:36):
espionage, you will see how wellhe conducted himself. And the government sleuths
weren't the only ones who were afterhim either. Captain Kenney of the New
York Police Force lent mighty efficient aidand actually invented a new system of trailing
in order to find out just whathe was up to. In the old
(05:00):
days, you told a man togo out and follow a suspect, and
that was all there was to it. The shadow would trail along half a
block or so in the rear,keeping his man always in view, and
bring home a full account of whathe had done. All day. But
you couldn't do that with Wimer.He was too foxy. From what some
(05:23):
of the boys have told me,I think he took a positive delight in
throwing them off the scent, whetherhe had anything up its sleeve or not.
One day, for example, youcould have seen his big bulk swinging
nonchalantly up Broadway as if he didn'thave a care in the world. A
hundred feet or more behind him wasBob Dugan, one of Kenney's men.
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When Wimer disappeared into the subway stationat Times Square, Dugan was right behind
him, and when the Austrian boardedthe local for a Grand Central station,
Dugan was on the same train,on the same car in fact. But
when they reached the station things beganto happen. Wimer left the Local and
(06:12):
commenced to stroll up and down theplatform, waiting until a local train and
an express arrived at the same time. That was his opportunity. He made
a step or two forward as ifto board the express, and Dugan,
not wishing to make himself too conspicuous, slipped on board just as the doors
(06:33):
were closing, only to see Wimerpushed back and jam his way on the
local variations of that stunt occurred timeafter time. Even the detailing of two
men to follow him failed in itspurpose, For the Austrian would enter a
big office building, leap into anexpress elevator just as it was about to
(06:57):
ascend, slip the operator a dollarto stop at one of the lower floors,
and be lost for the day oruntil someone picked him up by accident.
So Cap Kenney called in four ofhis best men and told them that
it was essential that Weimer be watched. Two of you, he directed,
(07:18):
stick with him all the time.Suppose you locate him the first thing in
the morning at his house on twentyfourth Street, for example, you Cartrell
Station yourself two blocks up the street, Gary, you go the same distance
down. Then, no matter whichway he starts, he'll have one of
(07:40):
you in front of him and onebehind. The man in front will have
to use his wits to guess whichway he intends to go and to beat
him to it. If he boardsa car, the man in front can
pick him up with a certainty thatthe other will cover the trail in the
rear. In that way, youought to be able to find out where
(08:03):
he is going and possibly what heis doing there. The scheme, thanks
to the quick thinking of the menassigned to the job, worked splendidly for
months. At least it worked inso far as keeping a watch on Wymer
was concerned. But that was all. In the summer of nineteen fifteen,
(08:24):
the government knew precisely where Wymer hadbeen for the past six months, with
whom he had talked to, andso on, but the kernel of the
nut was missing. There wasn't theleast clue to what he had talked about
and what deviltry he had planned.Without that information, all the dope the
government had was about as useful asa movie to a blind man. Washington
(08:50):
was so certain that Wymer had thekey to a number of very important developments,
among them the first attempts to blowup the welland canal, that the
Chief of the Secret Service made aspecial trip to New York to talk to
Kenny. Isn't it possible, hesuggested, to plant your men close enough
to Wimer to find out, forexample, what he talks about over the
(09:15):
phone. Kenny smiled grimly. Chief, he said, that's been done.
We've tapped every phone that Wymer's likelyto use in the neighborhood of his house,
And every time he talks from apublic station, one of our men
cuts in from near by by anarrangement with Central and gets every word.
(09:37):
But that bird is too wary tobe caught with chaff of that kind.
He's evidently worked out a verbal codeof some kind that changes every day.
He tells the man at the otherend, for example, to be at
the drug store in the corner ofseventy third and Broadway at three o'clock tomorrow
(09:58):
afternoon and wait for a phone callin the name of Williams. Our man
is always at the place at theappointed hour, but no call ever arrives.
Seventy third and Broadway very evidently meanssome other address, but it's useless
to try and guess which one.You'd have to have a man at every
(10:22):
pay station in town to follow thatlead. How about overhearing his directions to
the men he meets in the open, Not a chance in the world.
His rendezvous are always public places,the Pennsylvania or Grand Central station, a
movie theater, a hotel, lobby, or the like. There he can
(10:45):
put his back against the wall andmake sure no one is listening in he's
on to all the tricks of thetrade, and it will take a mighty
clever man or a bunch of themto nail him, mused the Chief.
Well at that, I believe I'vegot the man anyone I know, Yes,
(11:09):
I think you do. Morton Maxwellremember him work on the Castleman diamond
case here a couple of years agofor the customs people, and was also
responsible for uncovering the men behind thesugar tax fraud. He isn't in the
Service, but he's working for theDepartment of Justice, and I'm certain they'll
(11:31):
turn him loose on this if Iasked them to. Maxwell can get to
the bottom of Wimer's business, ifanyone can, let me talk to Washington.
And within an hour after the Chiefhad hung up the receiver, Morton
Maxwell, better known as mort washeaded toward New York with instructions to report
(11:54):
at Secret Service headquarters in that city. Once there, the Chief and Kenny
went over the whole affair with him. Cotrell and Garry and the other men
who had been engaged in shadowing theelusive Wimer were called in to tell their
part of the story, and everycard was laid upon the table. When
(12:16):
the conference concluded, sometime after midnight, the Chief turned to Maxwell and inquired,
well, what's your idea about it? For a full minute, mort
smoked on in silence and gazed offinto space. Men who had just met
him were apt to think this opposea play to the grandstand, but those
(12:39):
who knew him best realized that Maxwell'salert mind was working fastest in such moments,
and that he much preferred not tomake any decision until he had turned
things over in his head. There'sjust one point which doesn't appear to have
been covered, he replied, then, as Kenny started to cut in,
(13:03):
No, Chief, I said,appeared not to have been covered very possibly.
You have all the information on itand forgot to hand it out.
Who does this Wimer live with?He lives by himself in a house on
twenty fourth Street near seventh Avenue.Boards there, but has the entire second
(13:24):
floor. So far as we've beenable to find out. He has never
been married, No trace of anywife on this side anyhow, never travels
with women, probably afraid they'd talktoo much. Has he any relatives?
None that I know of. Waita minute, Coughtrell interrupted. I dug
(13:48):
back into Wimer's record before the war, ended his official connection with the steamship
company, and one of the pointsI picked up was that he had a
cousin, a man named George Busch, formerly employed on one of the boats.
Where is Bush now, asked Maxwell. We haven't been able to locate
(14:09):
him, admitted the police detective.Not that we've tried very hard, because
the trail didn't lead in his direction. I don't even know that he is
in this country, but it's likelythat he is because he was on one
of the boats that was interned herewhen the war broke again. It was
(14:30):
a full minute before Maxwell spoke,butsch he said, finally appears to be
the only link between Wimer and theouter world. It's barely possible that he
knows something, and as we can'tafford to overlook any clue, suppose we
start work along that line. I'lldig into it myself the first thing in
(14:54):
the morning, and I certainly wouldappreciate any assistance that your men could give
me. Chief tell them to makediscreet inquiries about Buch, his appearance,
habits, et cetera, and totry to find out whether he is on
this side. Now I'm going toturn in for something seems to tell me
that the busy season has arrived.At that Maxwell wasn't far wrong. The
(15:22):
weeks that followed were well filled withwork, but it was entirely unproductive of
results. Wimer was shadowed day andnight, his telephones tapped, and his
mail examined, but save for thefact that his connection with the German embassy
became increasingly apparent, no further evidencewas forthcoming. The search for Buch was
(15:48):
evidently futile, for that personage appearedto have disappeared from the face of the
earth. All that Maxwell and theother men who worked on the matter could
discover was that Buch, a youngAustrian whose description they secured, had formerly
been an intimate of Wimer. Thelatter had obtained his appointment to a minor
(16:08):
office in the Hamburg American line,and Butch was commonly supposed to be a
stool pigeon for the master plotter.But right there the trail stopped. No
one appeared to know whether the Austrianwas in New York, or the United
States for that matter, though oneinformant did admit that it was quite probable
(16:32):
Butch and the big fellow had arowed The last time over was the information
Maxwell secured at the cost of afew drinks, something about some money that
Wimer is supposed to have owed himfifteen dollars or some such amount. I
didn't hear about it until afterward,but it appears to have been a pretty
(16:53):
lively scrap while it lasted. Ofcourse, Butch didn't have a chance against
the big fellow. He could handlea bull, but the young Austrian threatened
to tip his hand, said heknew a lot of stuff that would be
worth a good deal more money thanwas coming to him, and all that
(17:14):
sort of thing. But the shipdocked the next day, and I haven't
seen or heard of him since.The idea of foul play at once leaped
into Maxwell's mind, but investigation ofpolice records failed to disclose the discovery of
anything answering to the description of GeorgeBusch, and as Captain Kenny pointed out,
(17:37):
it is a decidedly difficult matter todispose of a corpse in such a
way as to not arouse at leastthe suspicions of the police. As a
last resort, about the middle ofSeptember, Maxwell had a reward posted on
the bulletin board of every police stationin New York and the surrounding country for
(18:00):
the apprehension of George Buch Austrian age, about twenty four, height, five
feet eight inches, hair, blondecomplexion, fair eyes, blue sandy mustache.
As Captain Kenny pointed out, thoughthe description would apply to several thousand
(18:22):
men of German parentage in the city, and to a good many more who
didn't have a drop of teutonic bloodin their veins. True enough, Maxwell
was forced to admit, but wecan't afford to overlook a bet, even
if it is a thousand to oneshot. As luck would have it,
the thousand to one shot one.On September twenty fifth, nineteen seventeen,
(18:48):
Detective Garry returned to headquarters distinctly crestfallen. Wimer had given him the slip in
company with another man whom the detectivedid not know. The Austrian had been
walking up sixth Avenue that afternoon whena machine swung in from thirty sixth Street,
(19:10):
and the Austrian had leaped aboard withoutwaiting for it to come to a
full stop. Of course, therewasn't a taxi in sight, said Gary
ruefully, and before I convinced thenearest chauffeur that my badge wasn't phony.
They'd gone. That's the first timein months, Gary replied. He knows
(19:33):
that he's followed, all right,and he's cagy enough to keep in the
open and pretend to be above board, right, commented the Department of Justice.
Operative, and this move would appearto indicate that something was doing better.
Phone all your stations to watch outfor him, cap But nothing more
(19:56):
was seen or heard of Airwimer forfive days. Meanwhile, events moved rapidly
from Maxwell. On September twenty sixth, the day after the Austrian disappeared,
one of the policemen whose beat layalong Fourteenth Street near Third Avenue, asked
to see the government detective. Myname's Riley, announced the copper, with
(20:22):
a brogue as broad as the toesof his shoes. Does this Austrian?
This here? Butch fella you're lookingfor like music? Is he nuts about
it? Music? Echoed Maxwell.I'm sure I don't know. But wait
a minute, Yes, that's whatthat chap he used to know him on
(20:44):
the boat told me, saying hewas forever playing a fiddle when he was
off duty, and that Wimer threwit overboard one day in a fit of
rage. Why what's the connection?Nothing in particular, save that a little
girl I'm rather sweet on works ina music store on Fourteenth Street, and
(21:06):
she and I was talking things overlast night, and I happened to mention
the reward offered for this bush fellow. Why, says she, That sounds
just like the duchy that used tocome into the shop a whole lot a
year or so ago. He wascrazy about music and kept himself pretty nigh
(21:27):
broke. Buying those expensive new recordsgot me to save him every violin one
that came out. Um, yes, muttered Maxwell. But has the young
lady seen anything of this chap latelythat she has not? Riley replied,
(21:48):
And right, there's the big idea. Once a week regular another Dutchman comes
in and buys a record. Andhe told Katy that's my girl's name.
Last winter that the selections were fora man that used to be a steady
customer of hers, but who isnow laid up in bed, in bed
(22:10):
for over a year, exclaimed Maxwell, his face lighting up, held prisoner
somewhere in the neighborhood of that shopon Fourteenth Street. Because the big Austrian
hasn't the nerve to make away withhim, and yet fears that he knows
too much. Look here, Riley, suppose you and miss Katy take a
(22:32):
few nights off. I'll substitute forher and make it all right with the
man who owns the store. ThenI can get a line on this buyer
of records for sick men. Won'tit be better, sir, if we
hung around outside the store and letKaty give us the high sign when he
comes in, then we could bothtrail him back to where he lives.
(22:56):
You're right, Riley, it wouldWill I meet you tonight at the corner
of fourteenth Street and Fight Avenue ateight o'clock, Katy says, The man
never gets there before nine. I'llbe there, said Maxwell, and he
was. But nothing out of theordinary rewarded their vigil the first night,
(23:21):
nor the second. On the thirdnight, however, just after the clock
in the Metropolitan Tower had boomed ninetimes, a rather nondescript individual sauntered into
the music store, and Riley's quickeye saw the girl behind the counter put
her left hand to her chest.Then she coughed, that's the signal,
(23:45):
sir, warned the policeman in awhisper, and that's the guy or after
had the man turned around as hemade his way toward a dark and forbidding
house on thirteenth Street, not farfrom Fourth Avenue, he might have caught
sight of two shadows skulking along notfifty feet behind him, but at that
(24:08):
he would have to have been prettyquick, for Maxwell was taking no chances
on losing his prey, and hehad cautioned the policeman not to make a
sound. When their quarry ascended thesteps of number two forty seven. Riley
started to move after him, butthe Department of Justice operative halted him.
(24:30):
There's no hurry, stated Maxwell.He doesn't suspect we're here, and besides,
it doesn't make any difference if hedoes lock the door. I've got
a skeleton key handy that's guaranteed toopen anything. Riley grunted, but stayed
where he was until Maxwell gave thesignal to advance. Once inside the door,
(24:56):
which responded to a single turn tothe key, the policeman and the
government agent halted in the pitch blackdarkness and listened. Then from an upper
floor came the sound for which Maxwellhad been waiting the first golden notes of
a violin played by a master hand. The distance and the closed doorway which
(25:19):
intervened killed all the harsh mechanical toneof the phonograph, and only the wonderful
melody of Drigo's serenade came down tothem on tiptoe. Though they knew their
movements would be masked by the soundsof the music, Riley and Maxwell crept
up the third floor and halted outsidethe door from which the sounds came.
(25:44):
Wait until the record is over,directed Maxwell, and then break down that
door. Have your gun handy,and don't hesitate to shoot anyone who tries
to injure Bush. I'm certain he'sheld prisoner here, and it may be
that the men who are guarding himhave instructions not to let him escape at
(26:06):
any cost. Ready, let's go. The final note of the Chrysler record
had not died away before Riley's shoulderhit the flimsy door, and the two
detectives were in the room. Maxwellbarely had time to catch a glimpse of
a pale wan figure on the bedand to sense the fact that there were
(26:29):
two other men in the room.When there was a shout from Riley and
a spurt of flame from his revolver. With a cry, the man nearest
the bed dropped his arm and apistol clattered to the floor, the barrel
still singing from the impact of thepoliceman's bullet. The second man, realizing
(26:49):
that time was precious, leaped straighttoward Maxwell, his fingers reaching for the
agent's throat. With a half laugh, More ubbed his automatic and brought the
butt down with sickening force on hisassailant's head. Then he swung around and
covered the man whom Riley had disarmed. Don't worry about him, Sir,
(27:12):
said the policeman. His arm willbe numb half an hour from now.
What do you want to do withthe lad in the bed? Get him
out of here as quickly as wecan. We won't bother with these swine.
They have the law on their sideanyway, because we broke in here
without a warrant. I only wantBush. When he had propped the young
(27:37):
Austrian up in a comfortable chair inthe Federal Building and had given him a
glass of brandy to strengthen his nerves. The Lord only knows what they'll have
to do in the future. Maxwellgot the whole story and more than he
had dared hoped for. Bush,following his quarrel with Wimer, had been
held prisoner in the house on ThirteenthStreet for over a year because, as
(28:03):
Maxwell had figured, the Austrian didn'thave the nerve to kill him and didn't
dare let him loose. Barely enoughfood was allowed to keep him alive,
and the only weakness that his cousinhad shown was in permitting the purchase of
one phonograph record a week in orderto cheer him up a little. Naturally,
(28:26):
said Busch, I chose the Chryslerrecords because he's an Austrian and a
marvelous violinist. Did Wimer ever cometo see you, inquired Maxwell. He
came in every now and then totaunt me and to say that he was
going to have me thrown in theriver some day soon. That didn't frighten
(28:48):
me, but there were other thingsthat did. He came in last week,
for example, and boasted that hewas going to blow up a big
canal, and I was afraid hemight be caught or killed. That would
have meant no more money for themen who were guarding me and I was
too weak to walk even to thewindow to call for help. A big
(29:11):
canal, Maxwell repeated, he couldn'tmean the Panama No, that's impossible.
I have it the welland canal,and in an instant he was calling the
Niagara Police on the long distance phone, giving a detailed description of Wimer and
his companions. As it turned out, concluded Quinn reaching for his empty glass.
(29:38):
Wymer had already been looking over theground. He was arrested, however,
before the dynamite could be planted,and thanks to Butch's evidence, indicted
for violation of Section thirteen of thePenal Code. Thus did a phonograph record
and thirty pieces of silver the thirdthirty half dollars that Weimer owned Busch lead
(30:03):
directly to the arrest of one ofthe most dangerous spies in the German service.
Let's have mister Drigo's serenade once moreand pledge mort Maxwell's health than ginger
Ale unless you have us still concealedaround the house, and if you have,
I will be in duty bound totell Jimmy Reynolds about it. He's
(30:26):
the lad that holds the record forpersistency and cleverness in discovering moonshiners, end
of chapter six,
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