Jason, a year into his purchase, couldn’t meet his debt payments. The airplane industry was in a recession. No one wanted the splines that were Diamond Head’s specialty. And even if they did, sales wouldn’t begin to cover his interest payments, let alone to repay the principal.
But the pension fund for Diamond Head’s work force was currently valued at twenty million. If Jason could cash that in, he could breathe more easily. The catch was, an informal poll of the rank and file showed he’d probably lose a vote on converting the fund to an annuity. But Eddie Mohr, the president of the local, agreed on the union’s behalf. In exchange for a cash settlement of five hundred thousand dollars, he signed documents allowing Diamond Head to sell the union pension fund and convert it to an annuity.
But how could they get away with it? There were all those pensioners like Mr. Contreras. Surely they would notice when their checks went down in value. I was about to call out to my neighbor, when I found the answer. The annuity would be structured so that current pensioners would be paid what they presently received. The paying institution would change from the Ajax Insurance Company, which managed the union fund, to Urban Life, an insurance company owned by U.S. Met’s directors—which also agreed to acquire a significant amount of Diamond Head junk.
I felt myself gasping for air. Cash in the pension fund without union consent and pay off Eddie Mohr to make it possible. Of course, he was the duly elected representative of the union. The feds might rule that that made it a legal transaction. But Eddie, knowing Mitch Kruger had died sniffing around the deal, might have felt unable to face another old buddy from the shop. When Mr. Contreras called, maybe it pricked his loyalty to the local. Maybe he called Milt Chamfers and told him he just couldn’t keep cheating his buddies. I wondered if I’d ever know.
A gold-rimmed carriage clock on Harriet’s desk chimed the hour. I looked up with a start: two o’clock and I still had three drawers to go. Mr. Contreras came in to see how I was doing.
“I just got back from scouting around. I think we’ve got the place to ourselves now. Need me to do anything?”
“Want to copy some of these documents? I think I’ve found something pretty hot. Don’t stop to read the stuff now; it’ll only get you too mad to go on.”
He was happy to help out, but had never used a copier before. Harriet’s Xerox was so complicated that it took a fair amount of time to get him comfortable using it. It was close to three when I got back to my papers.
I riffled through the remaining files quickly, hoping to find a reference to Chicago Settlement. When I couldn’t find anything, I stashed the papers back where they belonged and turned once again to the stack dealing with Paragon Steel. Mr. Contreras finished his photocopying. Laying the copies next to me, he said with a delicate cough that he was going to find a men’s room. I nodded absently, forgetting Dick’s private John until after he’d disappeared down the hall.
I had just gotten to what looked like a juicy section, dealing with Paragon’s obligation to keep Diamond Head functioning, when Mr. Contreras came racing back in.
“Someone’s come in, doll. I think it may be the cops. I’d sort of wandered to the front, just giving the place the once-over—”
“Pack up your tools and explain the rest to me later. If they come here, I want them to find you in the act of restoring the vent cover.”
He stumbled back to the waiting room. I shoved the papers back in their folders and jammed them into the drawers any old way. I looked at the photocopies in momentary indecision. If it was indeed the cops and I got searched, I couldn’t be found with those on me.
I opened Harriet’s side drawer and took out a large manila envelope with Crawford, Mead’s return address on the corner. Stuffing my copies into it, I addressed the envelope to myself at my office and sprinted down the hall. I called out to Mr. Contreras as I left not to worry, that I wasn’t abandoning him.
Mr. Contreras was right: we had cops. I could hear them at the bottom of the interior staircase planning how to search the upper floors. Panicking slightly, I went from room to room until I found one with outgoing mail in a basket. I slid my envelope into the middle of the stack and walked back up the hall to join Mr. Contreras.
I got there just as one of the patrolmen came down the hall with the night guard from the lobby.
Chapter 42 - Off the Hook
Fred Roper, the night guard, was triumphant. “I knew there couldn’t be something wrong with the air-conditioning. Not without them telling me about it when I came on duty.”