One Police Plaza by William Caunitz

Author:William Caunitz
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781504028349
Publisher: MysteriousPress.com/Open Road

“I want to see your boss,” Malone bawled.

The receptionist stared at him then hurriedly swung around to the switchboard.

Within minutes David Ancorie was leading him through the corrugated security tunnel that snaked into the interior of Eastern Shipping. Ancorie held the door open and Malone sallied into the cramped, smoky office and plopped himself down in a chair next to Anderman’s desk.

Anderman smiled confidently. “You just won’t give up, will you, policeman?”

“We’re a persistent bunch,” he said, placing the cassette recorder he had brought with him onto the desk. He looked his adversary in the eye and snapped down the play button. The slow-moving spindles churned out Andrea St. James’s disconsolate voice. Anderman’s face twisted with anger. He spun in his chair, showing the policeman his back; his head and shoulders sagged. Words that Malone had listened to dozens of times now filled the office.

When the tape played out, Malone pushed the stop button. Anderman remained still for a moment then spun around and started to raise himself up, an angry finger stabbing the space in front of him. His breathing was labored and his eyes leered down at the policeman. “You! Take your tape. Recorder. And get out of this building. And don’t ever come back. I am going to sue you. The City. And the police department. You’re harassing me! Preventing me from conducting my business.” His face was inches from Malone. The breath was hot and coated with garlic and cigarettes. Suddenly he slammed his hands over the desk with such force that Malone thought he surely must have broken his wrists.

Malone looked at him, a sarcastic grin on his face. He was savoring his moment. And now for the square knot. He reached into his pocket and removed the box of 9mms which he casually tossed onto the desk.

Anderman stared at the box. He picked up a letter opener and fished the point into the open end. One by one the bullets tumbled out. Anderman gnawed his lower lip, his head shaking with diminishing belief.

Anderman said, “Where did these come from?”

“A warehouse in New Jersey.”

“I’ve been getting reports of strange occurrences.” He slapped his knee in frustration. “I really underestimated you, policeman.” He looked at him. “Can we still do a little business?”

“Wise men can always do a little business.” He started to gather up the bullets. “I want to know about Eisinger. The Braxtons. Marku. Yaziji. A cop called Westy. The Unit and a man by the name of Captain Madvick. You can start any place you want.”

“How many people know about the warehouses?”

“I know and my detectives. But only me and a friend know what’s inside of them.” He grinned. “A little life insurance.”

“And if I tell you what you want to know, you’ll return the list to me personally?”

“I will.”

“Where did you find it? We searched everywhere.”

“Hidden inside the binding of her Bible.”

“Humph.” He lit a cigarette. “And if I don’t tell you?”

“In that case, your military depots will be page one in the morning editions.

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