Shall We Tell the President? Read online

  Mark looked at him, about to speak.

  “No, don’t add anything about Nick; that’s why you’re here, and don’t ask me to change my opinion of the Bureau. I’ve been a crime reporter for over thirty years and the only change I’ve seen in the FBI and the Mafia is that they are both bigger and stronger.” He poured the Sambuca into his coffee, and took a noisy gulp. “Okay. How can I help?”

  “Everything off the record,” said Mark.

  “Agreed,” said Stampouzis. “For both our sakes.”

  “I need two pieces of information. First, are there any senators with close connections in organized crime and second, what is the attitude of the mob to the Gun Control bill?”

  “You don’t want much, do you?” said the Greek sarcastically. “Where shall I begin? The first is easier to answer directly, because the truth is that half the senators have loose connections with organized crime, by which I mean the Mafia, however out-of-date that is. Some don’t even realize it but if you include accepting campaign contributions from businessmen and large corporations directly or indirectly associated with crime, then every President is a criminal. But when the Mafia needs a senator they do it through a third party; and even that’s rare.”

  “Why?” queried Mark.

  “The Mafia needs clout at the state level, in courts, with deals, local by-laws, all that. They’re just not interested in foreign treaties and the approval of Supreme Court justices. In a more general way, there are some senators who owe their success to links with the Mafia, the ones who have started as civil court judges or state assemblymen and received direct financial backing from the Mafia. It’s possible they didn’t even realize it; some people don’t check too carefully when they are trying to get elected. Added to this are cases like Arizona and Nevada, where the Mafia runs a legit business, but God help any outsiders who try to join in. Finally, in the case of the Democratic party, there’s organized labor, especially the Teamsters Union. There you are, Mark, thirty years’ experience in ten minutes.”

  “Great background. Now can I ask you some specifics. If I name fifteen senators, will you indicate if they could fall into any of the categories you have mentioned?” Mark asked.

  “Maybe. Try me. I’ll go as far as I feel I can. Just don’t push me.”

  “Bradley.”

  “Never,” said Stampouzis.

  “Thornton.”

  He didn’t move a muscle.

  “Bayh.”

  “Not that I have ever heard.”

  “Harrison.”

  “No idea. I don’t know much about South Carolina politics.”

  “Nunn.”

  “Sam Sunday-School? Scout’s Honor Nunn? You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “Brooks.”

  “Hates the President but I don’t think he’d go that far.”

  Mark went down the list. Stevenson, Biden, Moynihan, Woodson, Clark, Mathias. Stampouzis shook his head silently.

  “Dexter.”

  He hesitated. Mark tried not to tense.

  “Trouble, yes,” Stampouzis began. “But Mafia, no.”

  He must have heard Mark sigh. Mark was anxious to know what the trouble was; he waited but Stampouzis didn’t add anything.

  “Byrd.”

  “Majority leader. Not his style.”

  “Pearson.”

  “You’re joking.”

  “Thank you,” said Mark. He paused. “Now to the Mafia’s attitude towards the Gun Control bill.”

  “I’m not certain at the moment,” began Stampouzis. “The Mafia is no longer monolithic. It’s too big for that and there has been a lot of internal disagreement lately. The old-timers are dead set against it because of the obvious difficulty of getting guns legally in the future, but they are more frightened by the riders to the bill, like mandatory sentences for carrying an unregistered gun. The Feds will love that; for them it’s the best thing since tax evasion. They will be able to stop any known criminal, search him, and if he is carrying an unregistered gun, which he is almost certain to be, wham, he’s in the courthouse. On the other hand, some of the young Turks are looking forward to it, a modern-day Prohibition for them. They will supply unregistered guns to unorganized hoodlums and any mad radical who wants one, another source of income for the mob. They also believe the police won’t be able to enforce the law and the cleaning-up period will take a decade. Does that get near to answering the question?”

  “Yes, very near,” said Mark.

  “Now, my turn to ask you a question, Mark.”

  “Same rules?”

  “Same rules. Are these questions directly connected with Nick’s death?”

  “Yes,” said Mark.

  “I won’t ask any more then, because I know what to ask and you’re going to have to lie. Let’s just make a deal. If this breaks into something big, you’ll see I get an exclusive over those bastards from the Post.”

  “Agreed,” said Mark.

  Stampouzis smiled and signed the check; the last comment had made Mark Andrews a legitimate expense.

  Mark looked at his watch; with luck he would make the last shuttle from La Guardia. Stampouzis rose and walked to the door; the bar was still full of men drinking heavily, the same men with the same wives. Once on the street, Mark hailed a cab. This time, a young black pulled up beside him.

  “I’m halfway there,” said Stampouzis, puzzling Mark. “If I pick up anything that I think might help, I’ll call you.”

  Mark thanked him and climbed into the cab.

  “La Guardia, please.”

  Mark rolled down the window, Stampouzis stared in briefly.

  “It’s not for you, it’s for Nick.” He was gone.

  The journey back to the airport was silent.

  When Mark eventually reached his own apartment, he tried to put the pieces together in his mind ready for the Director the following morning. He glanced at his watch. Christ, it was already the following morning.

  Monday morning

  7 March

  7:00 A.M.

  The Director listened to the results of Mark’s research in attentive silence and then added his own unexpected piece of information.

  “Andrews, we may be able to narrow your list of fifteen senators even further. Last Thursday morning a couple of agents picked up an unauthorized transmission on one of our KGB channels. Either temporary interference from some commercial station caused us to tune in a different frequency momentarily or else some guy is in possession of an illegal transmitter for our frequency. The only thing our boys heard was: ‘Come in, Tony. I just dropped the Senator back for his committee meeting and I’m …’ The voice stopped transmitting abruptly and we couldn’t find it again. Perhaps the conspirators had been listening in on our conversations, and this time one of them without thinking started to transmit on our frequency as well; it’s easy enough to do. The agents who heard it filed a report concerning the illegal use of our frequency without realizing its particular significance.”

  Mark was leaning forward in his chair.

  “Yes, Andrews,” said the Director. “I know what’s going through your mind: 10:30 A.M. The message was sent at 10:30 A.M.”

  “10:30 A.M., 3 March,” said Mark urgently. “Let me just check … which committees were already in progress …” He opened his file. “Dirksen Building … that hour … I have the details at hand somewhere, I know,” he continued as he flicked through his papers. “Three possibilities, sir. The Foreign Relations and Government Operations committees were in session that morning. On the floor of the Senate they were debating the Gun Control bill: that seems to be taking up a lot of their time right now.”

  “Now we may be getting somewhere,” said the Director. “Can you tell from your records how many of your fifteen were in the Capitol on 3 March and what they were up to?”

  Mark leafed through the fifteen sheets of paper and slowly divided them into two piles. “Well, it isn’t conclusive, sir, but I have no record of these eight”—he placed his