The Osterman Weekend: A Novel

  It was no use. He had to get up, he had to walk around; perhaps eat something, read something, smoke.

  Anything that would help him stop thinking.

  He and Ali had had a number of brandies before going to bed—too many drinks for Ali; she was deep in sleep, as much from the alcohol as from exhaustion.

  Tanner got out of bed and went downstairs. He wandered aimlessly around; he finished the remains of a cantaloupe in the kitchen, read the junk mail in the hallway, flipped through some magazines in the living room. Finally he went out to the garage. There was still the faint—ever so faint now—odor of the gas which had been used on his wife and children. He returned to the living room, forgetting to turn off the lights in the garage.

  Extinguishing his last cigarette, he looked around for another pack; more for the security of knowing there was one than from any immediate need. There was a carton in the study. As he opened the top drawer of his desk, a noise made him look up.

  There was a tapping on his study window and the beam of a flashlight waving in small circles against the pane.

  “It’s Jenkins, Mr. Tanner,” said the muffled voice. “Come to your back door.”

  Tanner, relieved, nodded to the dark figure on the other side of the glass.

  “This screen-door latch was broken,” said Jenkins softly as Tanner opened the kitchen door. “We don’t know how it happened.”

  “I did it. What are you doing out there?”

  “Making sure there’s no repetition of this afternoon. There are four of us. We wondered what you were doing. The lights are on all over downstairs. Even in the garage. Is anything the matter? Has anyone phoned you?”

  “Wouldn’t you know if they had?”

  Jenkins smiled as he stepped through the door. “We’re supposed to, I guess you know that. But there’s no accounting for mechanical failures.”

  “I suppose not. Care for a cup of coffee?”

  “Only if you’d make enough for three other guys. They can’t leave their posts.”

  “Sure.” Tanner filled the hot water kettle. “Instant be all right?”

  “Be great. Thanks.” Jenkins sat down at the kitchen table, moving his large police holster so it hung free from the seat. He watched Tanner closely and then looked around the room.

  “I’m glad you’re outside. I appreciate it really. I know it’s a job, but still …”

  “Not just a job. We’re concerned.”

  “That’s nice to hear. You have a wife and kids?”

  “No sir, I don’t.”

  “I thought you were married.”

  “That’s my partner. McDermott.”

  “Oh, I see.… You’ve been on the force here, let’s see … a couple of years now, isn’t it?”

  “Just about.”

  Tanner turned from the stove and looked at Jenkins. “Are you one of them?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I asked if you were one of them. This afternoon you used the name Omega. That means you’re one of Fassett’s men.”

  “I was instructed what to tell you. I’ve met Mr. Fassett of course.”

  “But you’re not a small-town policeman, are you?”

  Jenkins did not have time to answer. There was a cry from the grounds outside. Both men in the kitchen had heard that sound before, Tanner in France, Jenkins near the Yalu River. It was a scream in the instant of death.

  Jenkins bolted to the screen door and raced outside, Tanner following at his heels. Two other men came out of the darkness.

  “It’s Ferguson! Ferguson!” They spoke harshly, but they did not yell. Jenkins rounded the pool and ran towards the woods beyond Tanner’s property. The news director stumbled and tried to keep up with him.

  The mutilated body lay in a clump of weeds. The head was severed; its eyes were wide, as if the lids had been pierced and held with nails.

  “Get back, Mr. Tanner! Stay back! Don’t look! Don’t raise your voice!” Jenkins held the petrified news director by the shoulders, pushing him away from the corpse. The two other men ran into the woods, pistols drawn.

  Tanner sank to the ground feeling sick, frightened beyond any fear he’d ever known.

  “Listen to me,” whispered Jenkins, kneeling over the trembling man. “That body in there wasn’t meant for you to see. It has nothing to do with you! There are certain rules, certain signs we all know about. That man was killed for Fassett. It was meant for him.”

  The body was wrapped in canvas and two men lifted it up to carry it away. Their moves were silent, efficient.

  “You’re wife’s still sleeping,” said Fassett quietly. “That’s good.… The boy got up and came downstairs. McDermott told him you were making coffee for the men.”

  Tanner sat on the grass on the far side of the pool, trying to make sense out of the last hour. Fassett and Jenkins stood above him.

  “For God’s sake, how did it happen?” He watched the men carrying the body and his words could hardly be heard. Fassett knelt down.

  “He was taken from behind.”

  “From behind?”

  “Someone who knew the woods behind your house.” Fassett’s eyes bore into Tanner’s and the news director understood the unspoken accusation.

  “It’s my fault isn’t it?”

  “Possibly. Jenkins left his post. His position was adjacent…. Why were you downstairs? Why were all the first-floor lights on?”

  “I couldn’t sleep. I got up.”

  “The lights were on in the garage. Why were you in the garage?”

  “I … I don’t remember. I guess I was thinking about this afternoon.”

  “You left the garage lights on.… I can understand a man who’s nervous getting up, going downstairs—having a cigarette, a drink. I can understand that. But I don’t understand a man going into his garage and leaving the lights on.… Were you going somewhere, Mr. Tanner?”

  “Going somewhere?… No. No, of course not. Where would I go?”

  Fassett looked up at Jenkins who was watching Tanner’s face in the dim reflection of the light coming from the house. Jenkins spoke.

  “Are you sure?”

  “My God.… You thought I was running away. You thought I was running away and you came in to stop me!”

  “Keep your voice down, please.” Fassett rose to his feet.

  “Do you think I’d do that? Do you think for one minute I’d leave my family?”

  “You could be taking your family with you,” answered Jenkins.

  “Oh, Christ! That’s why you came to the window. That’s why you left your …” Tanner couldn’t finish the sentence. He felt sick and wondered if he threw up where he could do it. He looked up at the two government men. “Oh, Christ!”

  “Chances are it would have happened anyway.” Fassett spoke calmly. “It wasn’t … wasn’t part of any original plan. But you’ve got to understand. You behaved abnormally. It wasn’t normal for you to do what you did. You’ve got to watch every move you make, everything you do or say. You can’t forget that Ever.”

  Tanner awkwardly, unsteadily, got up. “You’re not going on with this? You’ve got to call it off.”

  “Call it off? One of my men was just killed. We call it off now and you’re also dead. So’s the rest of your family.”

  Tanner saw the sadness in the agent’s eyes. One didn’t argue with such men. They told the truth.

  “Have you checked on the others?”

  “Yes, we have.”

  “Where are they?”

  “The Cardones are at home. Tremayne stayed in New York; his wife’s out here.”

  “What about the Ostermans?”

  “I’ll go into that later. You’d better get back inside. We’ve doubled the patrol.”

  “No you don’t. What about the Ostermans. Aren’t they in California?”

  “You know they’re not. You placed a call to them on your credit card at four-forty-six this afternoon.”

  “Then where are they?”

>   Fassett looked at the news director and replied simply. “They obviously made reservations under another name. We know they’re in the New York area. We’ll find them.”

  “Then it could have been Osterman.”

  “It could have been. You’d better get back. And don’t worry. We’ve got an army out here.”

  Tanner looked over at the woods where Fassett’s man had been murdered. His whole body involuntarily shook for a moment. The proximity of such a brutal death appalled him. He nodded to the government men and started towards his house feeling only a sickening emptiness.

  “Is it true about Tremayne?” asked Jenkins softly. “He’s in the city?”

  “Yes. He had a fair amount to drink and took a room at the Biltmore.”

  “Anyone check the room tonight?”

  Fassett turned his attention from the figure of Tanner disappearing into the house. He looked at Jenkins. “Earlier, yes. Our man reported that he went—probably staggered—to his room a little after midnight. We told him to pull out and pick Tremayne up again at seven. What’s bothering you?”

  “I’m not sure yet It’ll be clearer when we confirm Cardone’s situation.”

  “We did confirm it. He’s at home.”

  “We assume he’s at home because we haven’t had any reason to think otherwise up to now.”

  “You’d better explain that.”

  “The Cardones had dinner guests. Three couples. They all came together in a car with New York plates. Surveillance said they left in a hurry at twelve-thirty.… I’m wondering now if Cardone was in that car. It was dark. He could have been.”

  “Let’s check it out. With both. The Biltmore’ll be no problem. With Cardone we’ll have Da Vinci make another phone call.”

  Eighteen minutes later the two government men sat in the front seat of an automobile several hundred yards down the road from the Tanner house. The radio came in clearly.

  “Information in, Mr. Fassett. The Da Vinci call got us nowhere. Mrs. Cardone said her husband wasn’t feeling well; he was sleeping in a guest room and she didn’t want to disturb him. Incidentally, she hung up on us. The Biltmore confirmed. There’s no one in room ten-twenty-one. Tremayne didn’t even sleep in his bed.”

  “Thank you, New York,” said Laurence Fassett as he flipped the channel button to OFF. He looked over at Jenkins. “Can you imagine a man like Cardone refusing a telephone call at four-thirty in the morning? From Da Vinci?”

  “He’s not there.”

  “Neither’s Tremayne.”

  15

  Thursday—6:40 A.M.

  Fassett told him he could stay home on Thursday. Not that he had to be given permission; nothing could have dragged him away. Fassett also said that he’d contact him in the morning. The final plans for the total protection of the Tanner family would be made clear.

  The news director put on a pair of khaki trousers and carried his sneakers and a sportshirt downstairs. He looked at the kitchen clock: twenty minutes to seven. The children wouldn’t be up for at least an hour and a half. Ali, with luck, would sleep until nine-thirty or ten.

  Tanner wondered how many men were outside. Fassett had said there was an army, but what good would an army be if Omega wanted him dead? What good had an army been for the government man in the woods at three-thirty in the morning? There were too many possibilities. Too many opportunities. Fassett had to understand that now. It had gone too far. If the preposterous were real, if the Ostermans, the Cardones or the Tremaynes really were a part of Omega, he couldn’t simply greet them at his door as if nothing had happened It was absurd!

  He went to the kitchen door and quietly let himself out. He’d go towards the woods until he saw someone. He’d reach Fassett.

  “Good morning.” It was Jenkins, dark circles of weariness under his eyes. He was sitting on the ground just beyond the edge of the woods. He couldn’t be seen from the house or even the pool.

  “Hello. Aren’t you going to get any sleep?”

  “I’m relieved at eight. I don’t mind. What about you? You’re exhausted.”

  “Look, I want to see Fassett. I’ve got to see him before he makes any more plans.”

  The patrolman looked at his wristwatch. “He was going to call you after we gave him the word you were up. I don’t think he expected it’d be so early. That may be good though. Wait a sec.” Jenkins walked a few feet into the woods and returned with a canvas-pack radio. “Let’s go. We’ll drive over.”

  “Why can’t he come here?”

  “Relax. Nobody could get near your house. Come on. You’ll see.”

  Jenkins picked up the radio by its shoulder strap and led Tanner through a newly created path in the woods surrounding his property. Every thirty to forty feet were men, kneeling, sitting, lying on their stomachs facing the house, unseen but seeing. As Jenkins and Tanner approached each man, weapons were drawn. Jenkins gave the radio to the patrol on the east flank.

  “Call Fassett. Tell him we’re on our way over,” he said.

  “That agent was killed last night because the killer knew he’d been recognized. One part of Omega was identified and that was unacceptable.” Fassett sipped coffee, facing Tanner. “It was also another sort of warning, but that doesn’t concern you.”

  “He was murdered fifty yards from my house, from my family! Everything concerns me!”

  “All right!… Try to understand. We can assume the information on you has been returned; remember, you’re just Tanner the newsman, nothing else. They’re circling like hawks now, wary of each other. None knowing whether the others have accomplices, scouts of their own.… The killer—one tentacle of Omega—ran a private surveillance. He collided with the agent; he had no choice but to kill. He didn’t know him, he’d never seen him before. The only thing he could be sure of was that whoever posted the man would become concerned when he didn’t report. Whoever was responsible for that man in the woods would come and find him. That was the warning; his death.”

  “You can’t be sure of that.”

  “We’re not dealing with amateurs. The killer knew the body would be removed before daylight. I told you in Washington, Omega’s fanatic. A decapitated body fifty yards from your house is the kind of mistake that would call for an NKVD execution. If Omega was responsible. If not …”

  “How do you know they’re not working together? If the Ostermans or the Cardones or the Tremaynes are any part of it, they could have planned it together.”

  “Impossible. They haven’t been in contact since the harassment began. We’ve fed them all—each of them—contradictory stories, illogical suppositions, half truths. We’ve had cables routed through Zurich, telephone calls from Lisbon, messages delivered by strangers in dead-end streets. Each couple is in the dark. None know what the others are doing.”

  The agent named Cole looked up at Fassett from the chair by the motel window. He knew that Fassett could not be absolutely sure of his last statement. They’d lost the Ostermans for nearly twelve hours. There was a surveillance lapse of three and three-and-a-half hours, respectively, with Tremayne and Cardone. Still, thought Cole, Fassett was right to say what he did.

  “Where are the Ostermans? You said last night—this morning—that you didn’t know where they were.”

  “We found them. In a New York hotel. From what we’ve learned, it’s doubtful Osterman was in the area last night.”

  “But, again, you’re not sure.”

  “I said doubtful. Not beyond doubt.”

  “And you’re convinced it had to be one of them?”

  “We think so. The killer was male almost certainly. It … took enormous strength.… He knew the grounds around your property better than we did. And you should know we’ve studied your place for weeks.”

  “For God’s sake then, stop them! Confront them! You can’t let it go on!”

  “Which one?” Fassett asked quietly.

  “All of them! A man was killed!”

  Fassett put his coffee cup down. ??
?If we do as you suggest, which, I admit, is tempting—it was my man who was killed, remember—we not only wash out any chance we have to expose Omega, but we also take a risk with you and your family that I can’t justify.”

  “We couldn’t be taking any greater risk and you know it.”

  “You’re in no danger. Not as long as you continue to act in a normal manner. If we walk in now we’re admitting the weekend is a trap. That trap couldn’t have been set without your assistance.… We’d be signing your death warrants.”

  “I don’t understand that.”

  “Then take my word for it,” said Fassett sharply. “Omega must come to us. There’s no other way.”

  Tanner paused, watching Fassett carefully. “That’s not entirely true, is it? What you’re saying is … it’s too late.”

  “You’re very perceptive.”

  Fassett picked up his cup and went to the table where there was a thermos of coffee. “There’s only one more day. At the most two. Some part of Omega will break by then. All we need is one. One defection and it’s over.”

  “And one stick of dynamite in my house blows us to hell.”

  “There’ll be nothing like that. No violence. Not directed at you. Put simply, you’re not important. Not any longer. They’ll only be concerned about each other.”

  “What about yesterday afternoon?”

  “We’ve put out a police-blotter story. A robbery. Bizarre to be sure, but a robbery nevertheless. Just what your wife thinks happened, the way she thinks it happened. You don’t have to deny anything.”

  “They’ll know it’s a lie. They’ll call it.”

  Fassett looked calmly up from the thermos. “Then we’ll have Omega, won’t we? We’ll know which one it is.”

  “What am I supposed to do? Pick up a telephone and call you? They may have other ideas …”

  “We’ll hear every word said in your house starting with your first guest tomorrow afternoon. Later this morning two television repairmen will come to fix the sets damaged in the robbery. While tracing antenna wiring they’ll also install miniaturized pick-ups throughout your home. Starting with the first arrival tomorrow, they’ll be activated.”