Seven Silent Men (20 page)

Paper currency described as old, used, faded, torn or otherwise damaged bills. Bills banded together in stacks according to denominations … one-dollar notes, ten-dollar notes; fifty-dollar notes, one-hundred-dollar notes. Bands are of varying colored paper … white, gray, manila, yellow. Most bands have no markings. Some white and gray bands might be printed with: U.S. Federal Reserve Bank.

Dunlop states total amount of unfit bills loaded onto Gulf Coast Armored Security truck was thirty-one million dollars ($31,000,000) and that this figure appeared on lading voucher given Swoggins. Dunlop further says duplicate inventory list of serial numbers for every one-hundred-dollar ($100) bill in shipment provided Swoggins.

Swoggins confirms receiving lading voucher for thirty-one million dollars ($31,000,000) as well as copy of inventory list of hundred-dollar bills. Swoggins, Noble, Manly, Dunlop say only after truck was loaded and ready for departure did Dunlop reveal shipment's destination was Federal Reserve Bank at St. Louis, Missouri. Dunlop told them if trouble was encountered en route, Arthur Klines should be telephoned.

Swoggins, Manly, Noble state leaving New Orleans 10:00 P.M. Thursday, 19 August 1971, in armored truck with Noble driving, Swoggins in cab as armed guard, Manly in trailer as armed guard. Anticipated travel time: sixteen (16) hours. Estimated arrival St. Louis: 2:00 P.M. Friday, 20 August 1971. Truck departed New Orleans westward on U.S. Highway 10 to U.S. Highway 55, followed 55 northward for balance of journey. Truck overheated at McComb and Canton, Mississippi, causing delays of two and four hours respectively. Each delay was telephoned to Arthur Klines by Noble. Overheating problem was partially corrected by reducing driving speed from sixty-five (65) miles per hour to forty (40) miles per hour. Once inside Missouri border, Noble reached Klines by telephone advising engine trouble was worse. Noble doubted truck could hold up till St. Louis. Noble suggested replacement vehicle come for load. Klines told Noble to wait by telephone. Klines called back many hours later saying no replacement truck was available. Klines instructed Noble to deliver load to Mormon State National Bank in nearby Prairie Port, Missouri, for weekend safekeeping, then take truck for repair.

Truck reached Mormon State National Bank at 6:45 P.M., Friday, 20 August 1971. Emile Chandler, President, Mormon State Bank, was waiting at premises. Noble, Swoggins and Manly transferred the entire load of unfit money from truck to bank vault. Transfer completed 8:00 P.M.

Noble, Swoggins, Manly moved truck to Majestic Garage, 45 Clayton Street, Carbondale, Illinois, where they remained for weekend while radiator was replaced. Early Sunday morning, 22 August 1971, Noble, Swoggins, Manly departed for Prairie Port in repaired truck to pick up money at Mormon State and complete delivery to St. Louis. En route heard news of robbery on cab radio and stopped to call Klines in Washington, D.C., for instructions. Klines unavailable. Noble called Dunlop in New Orleans. Dunlop ordered them back to Carbondale to await instructions.

At 7:45 A.M. Sunday, 22 August 1971, Emile Chandler, President, Mormon State National Bank, telephoned at home by Chief of Prairie Port Police Department, F. R. Santi, who reported robbery-in-progress at bank premises. Chandler reached premises 8:15 A.M. Chandler unable to contact Klines. 8:30 A.M. Chandler notified Dunlop of robbery-in-progress.

Dunlop states being unable to find his copy of inventory list of serial numbers for unfit hundred-dollar bills. Dunlop further reveals only two such copies of list existed. Dunlop called Chandler, who had no memory of seeing any such list. Dunlop called Swoggins and Noble in Carbondale, Illinois. Swoggins remembered only his own copy of inventory. Noble remembered placing two copies of inventory list into envelope containing lading voucher. Noble stated envelope then put on top money sack nearest hydraulic door inside vault of Mormon State National Bank.

At approximately 9:45 A.M. Sunday, 22 August 1971, Chandler and Dunlop informed vault is empty. Subsequent search revealed no inventory lists or voucher forms in vault or premises. Chandler, Dunlop agree to say nothing of missing thirty-one million dollars ($31,000,000) until speaking with Klines, who was still unavailable. Klines first contacted by Dunlop and Chandler 8:00 P.M. Sunday, 22 August 1971. Subsequent to being told of robbery and continuing count to establish amount of missing money, Klines expressed fears over potential criticism of Treasury Department for mishandling transfer of thirty-one million ($31,000,000) as well as for losing inventory lists. Klines ordered Chandler and Dunlop to continue not to reveal that thirty-one million dollars ($31,000,000) was missing from the vault.

At 7:00 A.M. Monday, 23 August 1971, Klines met with A. R. Roland, assistant to the Director, FBI, and explained matter. Subsequent to hearing missing thirty-one million dollars ($31,000,000) had not yet been declared to the auditors from Brink's Incorporated and Mormon State who were tabulating the loss, Roland suggested information continue to be withheld until facts could be confirmed. Boland dispatched special headquarters team to investigate Klines's statements. At 3:00 P.M. Monday, 23 August 1971, money counters for Brink's Incorporated, without authorization, announced publicly total amount stolen from vault was sixty-five hundred dollars ($6,500). Klines upset by revelation but deferred to Boland's wish that nothing yet be said about shipment of unfit currency. Confirmation of Klines's statements established. Late evening Monday, 23 August 1971, Roland referred matter directly to Director Hoover. Subsequent to reviewing Roland information, Director Hoover ordered press conference for following morning.

9:00 A.M. Tuesday, 24 August 1971, Director Hoover met with press and revealed an additional thirty-one million dollars ($31,000,000) stolen in robbery of Mormon State National Bank.

“Swiss cheese!” Billy Yates muttered as he stood beside the twelfth-floor teletype machine reading the message.

Denis Corticun, prim and immaculate, who was entering the communications cubicle, looked over at him. “What's that?”

“This report has more holes in it than Swiss cheese,” Billy told him.

“What's your name?”

“Yates, W.B.”

“From what field office?”

“He's from down on the eleventh floor,” the communications agent said from a far desk. “They sent him up to get that teletype.”

Corticun took out a pad and pen. “Your full name.”

“William Butler Yates.”

“Any relation to that poet?”

“Not unless he's Jewish.”

“… Jewish?”

“Jewish like in Hebrew. Gog like in synagogue. The other William Butler is Irish. I'm of the Hebraic persuasion. He spells his name Y-E-A-T-S. I spell mine Y-A-T-E-S.”

Corticun scrutinized the flaxen-haired young man who looked every bit as Aryan as a recruitment poster for Hitler Youth, then jotted down the name. “I suggest, Mister Yates, you behave like a courier rather than an analyst and bring that report to Mister Sunstrom without delay or comment. Only Mister Sunstrom.”

The second assistant medical examiner, as he routinely did on his midnight-to-eight
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. shift, reviewed the day's autopsy reports to make certain everything was in order. The folder on Teddy Anglaterra, listed as a John Doe, stated the unknown cadaver had sustained severe beating on its head, shoulders and chest, possibly inflicted by a lead pipe, and then had been stabbed in the upper torso fourteen times. The cause of death was attributed to a stab wound in the right ventricle of the heart. Shortly after expiration the corpse was submerged in water, most likely river water from the look of secondary bruise marks and traces of sludge and water both on the skin and in the internal organs. The time of death was placed between Thursday, August 19, and noon on Friday, August 20.

Noticing that no fingerprints had been taken, the conscientious second assistant M.E. went upstairs to the forensic department's cadaver room, brought out Teddy's body and printed all ten fingers and the heel of each hand twice, once on the autopsy form itself and then on a state police identification card. When the ink had dried he put the card into the morgue's latest toy … a facsimile machine for relaying fingerprints and photographs directly to the crime information center at state police headquarters. Transmission began at 2:45
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Sister Huxtable, her long-sleeved nightgown properly covered by a linen robe, hurried down the steps of the convent kitchen and out into the blackness of the night holding on high a butane lantern. Seventy-eight-year-old Sister Eleanora, attired in a scapulary chemise, hurried behind carrying a crowbar … followed the older Huxtable down the hillside and through the peach orchard and beyond the vegetable garden and pig sty and ancient stone dairy barn … on into a small, unelectrified brick building that once, long ago, had been used for sheep-dipping. A half-dozen more nuns, most of them hurriedly dressed in their Benedictine habits, stood near the far wall. The knocking had been going on for many minutes, Sister Eleanora was told. “It's like someone's trapped down there.” Sister Eleanora took the butane lantern from Sister Huxtable, lowered it over a heavy iron cistern cover in the floor and with the crowbar clanked on the metal twice.

Three distinct answering thuds sounded from under the cover.

Sister Eleanora clanked four times more.

Six thuds echoed back.

Sister Eleanora turned and looked up at Sister Huxtable. Huxtable pondered, then nodded. Aged Eleanora gave the lantern to the nearest nun, with the crowbar tried to pry under the lid. The lid resisted. She began hitting it around the edges. The lid still wouldn't give. Sister Eleanora called for a chisel and hammer and when the tools arrived, chipped away at the heavy rim, managed to get the chisel down under the edge of the cover, slid the crowbar in beside the chisel, stood and leaned on and pushed the long end of the lever. Fell onto the bar with all her weight. Had other nuns fall onto it with her.

A hiss, like air escaping from a punctured tire, was heard. Grew louder. With a pop, a geyser of mud blew the heavy iron cover high into the air and away, splattered the cowering nuns.

Wiggles, jaybird-naked and covered from head to toe in mud, clambered out of the opening … free at last from the underground maze of tunnels and caves where he had been trapped since after robbing Mormon State. On his hands and knees he kissed the stone floor beside the cistern hole. Continued kissing.

He looked up. Saw the semicircle of thoroughly startled and mud-flecked nuns staring down at him. Crossed himself. Grabbed the nearest hand and kissed it. Thanked it for releasing him from purgatory. Began moving on his knees and kissing every hand, muttering snippeted Hail Mary's and Glory Be's and Confiteors. Then he leapt to his bare feet, thrust a mud-crusted wad of something into the hand of an astonished Sister Eleanora and limped rapidly off through the open rear door into the night.

At 3:30
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. the state police communications center, which since a call from Cub Hennessy some three hours earlier had been putting out alerts for all known criminals in Missouri with a capacity to perpetrate a Mormon State-like crime, transferred the just-received photocopies of Teddy Anglaterra's fingerprints into a transmission machine that tied into the identification division in Jefferson City as well as trooper headquarters in adjoining states.

Music woke Alice Maywell Sunstrom at 4:55
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. Downstairs she saw her husband standing over his desk in his bathrobe and slippers … obviously pleased. Spread on the blotter before him were photographs and open files.

“John, are you all right?” she asked.

“Best day of my life.” He turned and looked at her. “Best except for the day I married you. I was just about to go up and wake you. You are beautiful.”

She was also dumbstruck. It had been quite a while since Strom had said anything of this sort to her. “Can I fix you something to eat?”

“Drink would be more fitting.” He indicated the silver wine bucket off to the side, a bucket containing an opened and chilling bottle of Dom Perignon. “Fetch it, will you, darling? Two glasses.”

Alice, unsteady and unsure, did as she was asked and brought two filled glasses back, handed one to him.

He clinked his glass against hers, raised it in a toast. “Here's to all the misery I've caused you of late. I apologize and pledge it shall never happen again.”

They went upstairs, and he made love to her for the first time in years. Her silent prayers had been answered. She wept in both joy and passion.

NINE

Warbonnet Ridge is a three-quarter-mile-long, slate gray granite cliff rising out of the fast swirl of Mississippi River at a place called Cyclone Bend. The Bonnet runs in a due north-south direction, on the Missouri side of the river. Its upstream or northern or “tall” tip reaches an altitude of three hundred and fifty-one feet. The southern or downstream or “low” tip is an even hundred yards above river level. For most of the ascent from Low Tip toward Tall Tip, Warbonnet Ridge is seldom wider than fifty yards. Over the final fourth of the journey, to the northern crest, the width almost doubles. The drop to the forest floor, beside the Bonnet, is sixty-eight feet at Tall Tip and seventeen feet at Low Tip. No one quite recalls when the roadway leading up to Low Tip was built.

In 1958 Warbonnet Ridge was officially incorporated as part of the United States National Parks system. This had created problems, since in 1945 the same cliff had been incorporated as the northeasternmost corner of the city of Prairie Port. Older residents were vaguely aware that the State of Missouri had spent years working out a compromise whereby the park site remained within the city limits, but as a federal enclave. In exchange for their mediation, Missouri officials had managed to have the United States fund construction of a scenic, double-lane road running along atop 12.6 miles of rock palisades fronting the river between Warbonnet Ridge and Lookout Bluff downstream. Under whose orders the Army Corps of Engineers shored up sections of palisades over this same stretch was never made known. But they did shore up and shape. The initial deal between Missouri and the federal government seems to have also included the U.S. going fifty-fifty with the state in restoring a historic corner of the city, the old pre-Civil War riverfront village of Steamboat Cove, which lay right behind Lookout Bluff.