Show Me a Hero by Ted Allbeury

Author:Ted Allbeury
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dover Publications
Published: 2017-04-14T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 32

The bus from the airport dropped Aarons at Grand Central and he walked down 41st Street as it started to rain. At the shop he searched in his pockets for the keys and a man with an umbrella stood beside him, looking in the shop window and Aarons heard the man say, “Don’t look at me, Andrei, and don’t talk to me. It’s Myron. Myron Harper. I just wanted to tell you I’ve been subpoenaed to appear before McCarthy’s congressional committee. They’re already checking on all my friends and contacts. I just wanted to warn you. I won’t be giving them any names I promise you. But others might. You’ve got to be very careful.”

He walked away before Aarons could respond.

As Aarons made his way upstairs to his apartment he was shocked at Harper’s news. And grateful that he’d taken so much trouble to warn him. He found out later that Harper had watched the shop for four days.

There was a pile of mail on the table in the living room, most of it business mail. There was an envelope that had not gone through the mail with his name handwritten on the cover. When he opened it he found a note from Serov to say that he had tried to contact him and was coming to see him in a couple of days’ time at the weekend.

As he stirred his glass of hot chocolate he remembered seeing newspaper photographs of the Senator who was in charge of the committee. There was the Senator and a lawyer, his assistant. A man named Cohen, or was it Cohn? It was he who provided the Senator with his material for questioning witnesses. He would have to find out more about them. But there was nobody in his network who was a member of the Party and only two had been members way back. Harper and the longshoreman. But he’d had their Party records destroyed long ago.

The next day Aarons walked down to the address Lensky had given him in Greenwich Village. The name of the woman was Tania Orlovsky and the house was in what was more or less a lane not far from Washington Square. It was a row of houses that had once been the servants’ quarters of the big houses on the next street. Number 31 was a three-storey house in reasonable repair. At street level what had once been a stable had been converted into what looked like a garage. A flight of four stone steps led to a door painted a bright blue with brass fittings and on the wall beside the door was a plate with name labels. Apartment 3 gave the name Orlovsky.

Aarons pressed the bell and a few moments later there was a buzz and the blue door clicked open. The stairs were narrow but carpeted and the handrail was new and varnished. On the top floor there was a short corridor with a window at the far end that cast a square of sunshine on a print of an Impressionist painting, framed and hanging on the plain white wall.

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