Chapter 16

The weather was nicer so I thought we would leave the office early and take a ride through town in my Auburn. We were cruising up Fifth Avenue enjoying the fresh spring air. I thought a special treat was needed and we stopped at the Empire State Building. Sarah told me it was a wonderful idea and we took the express elevator to the observation deck on the 86^th floor. We were enjoying the brisk breeze that had made dirigible docking on the 102^nd floor impractical and the views from the observation decks. We were enjoying sights like the George Washington Bridge over the Hudson river, the surrounding countryside of New Jersey, Pennsylvania and Connecticut, today was so clear you could almost see to Massachusetts.

The idyllic calm of the observation deck was broken by a scream and a hand pointing up above where two figures hanging out of a window near the mooring masts struggled for supremacy, a supremacy that would decide between life and death. One man was larger than the other and he had the advantage. He propelled the smaller man out of the window where he clutched for life on the T of a mooring mast.

The large man drew a heater from under his arm and pointed it at the smaller man. I thought I made the big guy. I shouted, "Marks!" He looked down at me with a sneer of contempt and coldly shot the man. Sarah and I had to dodge out of the way as the man fell lifeless to the observation deck. Marks disappeared into the building and I lost sight of him.

Sarah and I rushed for the stairs hoping to cut off Marks before he could escape. We didn't pass anyone on the stairs and were soon looking down at the broken body from the open window. A quick search crabbed the special elevator that ran from the 102^nd floor to the 86^th floor. We took it down and found the bulls already there. We spent several minutes being given the third by New York's finest. It turns out the stiff was Lester Swartz, a gee who jumbled numbers.

Sarah and I took the express elevator down and asked to see the building manager. Sarah flashed her FBI buzzer and everyone was eager to help us. It seemed that Marks had an office on the 88^th floor and had enough moxy to register the office under his own moniker!

The fact that we (Sarah) were with the FBI, got us the key to Mr. Marks' office. We took the regular elevator to the 88^th floor. There weren't many plugs using this elevator, so went there pretty quick. I guess what they say about this being the 'Empty State Building' was true.

The elevator boy seemed happy to have the business and I tipped him two bits. It was like I had made a friend for life. The door to Marks office was wide open, which was jake for us, because he had changed the lock. That was a big goof on his part and he probably would not get his lease renewed. Sarah and I took it apart looking for anything to pin on Marks. His books and records were not-so-surprisingly missing, but we got the slant that Swartz was a book keeper. Hey, even Al Capone needed someone to jumble the numbers, so I shouldn't be so surprised that Marks needed one. It seems the master race was not above using so-called inferior plugs for their skills.

We dropped the twister off with the building manager and told him that Marks had changed the lock. Needless to say, he was not happy about that. Our travels led us back to my car, which has a parking ducat on it. I was not happy either.

We arrived back at Mrs. O'Grady's in time to hear the Lone Ranger on the ether. Deputy Scruggs had made me into a hop-head for his show. Saturday Mrs. O'Grady put the screws on me to get her yard ready for Spring. I liked it, it was honest work and no gee was rubbed out, burnt or had to go to the hospital. Sunday was pleasant enjoying Mama O'Grady's special Irish boiled dinner of beef brisket, leeks, carrots and potatoes. Sunday evening I cuddled up to Sarah while we listened to the Press-Radio News where we heard:

The British Admiralty today denied the existence of 'Pirate Submarines' off the coast of Spain. Capt Jules of the destroyer HMS May was quoted as saying, "We have not had any run-ins with the so-called 'Pirate Submarines'. Since we have not seen these submarines we cannot tell their country of origin, for example Germany or Italy."