Текст книги "Target Manhattan"

Автор книги: Brian Garfield

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Rabinowitz

Your name?

Ira Rabinowitz.

Your position and title?

Chief security officer for the Beaver Street offices of the Merchants Trust Bank.

Is that your exact title, Mr. Rabinowitz?

Assistant Vice-President in charge of security.

Thank you…

We did our best with it, Mr. Skinner. My people in that bank can’t be faulted. If you’re looking for where to pin the blame, you’d better look somewhere else. We’ve got the best internal security systems of any bank in the city. We’ve never had a major vault robbery. Our losses in negotiable securities have been less than any bank’s. We keep tight tabs on our employees and it’s paid off. I just want to make it clear-what some nut does in an airplane, that’s not our job. That’s a job for the FBI or the United States Air Force. It’s not bank security. Our job is to protect the bank against robbery, and we do that job as well or better than any other security organization in the country.

I appreciate that. We’re not trying to pin blame on anyone at all.

I just wanted to make it clear.

Fine. Now, I wonder if you’d tell me when you were first brought into the case.

I had a call from Mr. Maitland’s secretary. She asked me if I’d mind stepping up to his office right away.

This was on May the twenty-second?

Wednesday. Yes, that’s right. The twenty-second.

What time was that?

About a quarter to eleven. In the morning.

And you arrived in Maitland’s office when?

Maybe two minutes later. My office is one floor below the executive suite. I used the stairs.

What did you find when you got there?

The secretary let me go right in. I found Mr. Maitland and another man in the main office.

And?

Mr. Maitland said this man was threatening to blow up the city if we didn’t fork up five million dollars in unmarked cash.

What happened then?

I guess I got a little sarcastic. I mean, this guy really looked like a nut case, you know? He was pretty big, but he had on this herringbone-tweed suit that looked like something they issue you when they let you out of the rubber room someplace. And he was covered with sweat. Eyes bulging out. He looked a lot more scared than Mr. Maitland did.

Did he know you were the security officer?

I don’t think so. I think Mr. Maitland had told him I was a bank officer, that was all. Maybe he expected me to get up the cash.

You said you got sarcastic. What did you say to him?

I don’t remember exactly. I said something about did he have the hydrogen bomb in his hip pocket or his shirt. I guess I wasn’t taking it very seriously at first. But it didn’t take long at all to wise up. This guy didn’t say anything at first. It was Mr. Maitland who did the talking. He told me the guy claimed he had a partner up over the city in an airplane and they were threatening to drop bombs on the city if we didn’t pa the ransom.

Had Ryterband given him a deadline?

I don’t know. You’d have to ask Mr. Maitland.

What I’m getting at, Mr. Rabinowitz, is whether you were informed of the deadline.

Well, of course I was. But it didn’t happen right at the beginning there.

What did happen?

I told Mr. Maitland he ought to take it easy, the chances were the guy was a crazy, he was bluffing.

And?

Mr. Maitland said he realized that. But he said we had no choice but to act on the assumption that the threat was real.

Were those Maitland’s exact words?

Pretty close. Why’d you ask?

Because it sounds like the way Maitland would phrase it.

Anyway I took a seat. This guy looked rattled. I thought the best thing to do was try to calm him down, get him talking. I asked him his name. He stammered a little, then he said he was Willard Roberts. I asked him if he had any identification. He said, “Don’t be an idiot.” He said we were wasting precious time. He started yelling at me to get down to the vaults and start packing the money up. I told him it wasn’t that simple. In the first place we don’t keep that kind of cash on hand-no bank does, except maybe the Fed down at their incinerators-and in the second place, I told him, we had no way to know he wasn’t bluffing.

What did he say to that?

He said we’d find out soon enough, if we didn’t pay off. Then he went over to the window-it’s an old building, the Merchants Trust, it’s got those high ceilings and those tall vaulted windows. He pointed up through the window and told me to see for myself. I walked over to the window and looked the way he was pointing.

And?

I saw the plane.

Where was it?

Circling over the Battery, heading north over Manhattan. It was flying very low-right on top of the buildings.

Did you recognize the aircraft type?

I’m not an expert. I was in the infantry in Korea; I don’t know a whole lot about airplanes. But I could see it was an old one-four propellers. And it was pretty big. It looked like a bomber, if you know what I mean.

Were the bomb-bay doors open?

I don’t know. I don’t think so.

Go on, Mr. Rabinowitz.

He said that was his partner. He said he had a full load of five-hundred-pound bombs in the plane. He said his partner was going to circle over Manhattan Island until the ransom was paid or the time ran out. If the ransom was paid he’d go away. If it wasn’t paid by the deadline, the bombs would be dropped on New York City. Then he told me the deadline was ten minutes after five in the afternoon. He said the money had to be paid by then or the bombs would drop.

Did he say why they’d picked that particular time? Ten minutes after five?

It was because the largest number of people would be on the streets at that time. I don’t remember whether he explained that right then or later.

Actually didn’t he insist that the money be paid over somewhat earlier than that?

That was later.

How much later?

Maybe forty-five minutes, an hour. After the police came. Maybe after the FBI came.

Let’s break for lunch, shall we?

Toombes

Your name, please?

Andrew V. Toombes.

Your title?

Deputy Police Commissioner, New York Police Department. I have a statement I’d like to read into the record, if that’s permissible?

Of course. Go right ahead.

I’ve cleared this statement through the Commissioner. He concurs in it. I thought it might save us some time-the Commissioner’s a rather busy man, as you can imagine.

We hadn’t intended asking either the Commissioner or the Mayor to testify here, Mr. Toombes. Neither of them had any direct role in the events that are the subject of this inquiry. The Mayor was in Chicago at the mayors’ conference, and I believe the Police Commissioner was in Los Angeles attending a three-day symposium.

Yes sir, that’s right. Assistant Deputy Mayor Swarthout was the highest-ranking city official on the case. Then of course there were the federal authorities. Ultimately the case was their responsibility.

Well, that’s partly what we’re here to determine, isn’t it? If you’d read your statement now?

Just one more thing. This isn’t solely my personal statement. I’ve included information from reports from police officers of various ranks who were involved in the case. In the interests of saving time, you see. I realize you may still want to call some of these officers to testify, but maybe this statement will cut down on the number of them you’ll want to talk to personally. I don’t like to take a cop off his beat any oftener than I have to.

Thank you. We appreciate it, and we don’t intend calling unnecessary witnesses. If you’d care to proceed?

Thank you. I’ll skip over the formal address and such…

“The Craycroft-Ryterband case first came to the attention of NYPD through a telephone call from the Merchants Trust Bank to the First Police Division on Twenty-first Street. The call was placed by Mr. Ira Rabinowitz, chief of security for the bank. It was logged in at the Thirteenth Precinct at ten forty-eight A.M., May twenty-second.”

Excuse me for interrupting. Is the Merchants Bank on Beaver Street in the jurisdiction of the Thirteenth Precinct?

No. It would be in the First Precinct, on Front Street. Rabinowitz is a former police officer, however He put the call through direct to division headquarters, which is located in the Thirteenth Precinct building. It was the correct thing to do; it saved a bit of time.

I see. Go on, please.

“Information was received by Captain Henry L. Grofeld, chief of First Division, that a crime was in progress at the Merchants Trust Bank. This information was received at eleven oh nine, and Captain Grofeld responded by-”

Excuse me again. But that indicates a gap of twenty-one minutes between the time Rabinowitz phoned the division and the time the case came to the attention of the divisional commander. Isn’t that excessive?

No, sir. It’ll explain itself as I read on.

Very well. I’m sorry to keep interrupting you.

It might go faster if I simply read the whole statement into the record and you asked your questions afterward, Mr. Skinner.

I’ll try to do that. Proceed.

“Captain Grofeld responded by ordering Special Investigations Squad to dispatch a team of officers to the Merchants Trust Bank. He was informed that this action had already been taken by his deputy commander, Lieutenant James O’Hara, and that O’Hara had also instructed the nearest street-patrol team of officers to respond to the call personally.

“According to statements by officials of Merchants Trust Bank, the first officers to arrive on the scene-foot patrolmen Lester Weinstein and Salvatore Cris-cola-entered the offices of the bank president at ten fifty-seven. They were informed of the facts, to the extent of his limited knowledge, by Mr. Rabinowitz. They then informed the perpetrator, then identified as Willard Roberts, that he was in custody. The perpetrator was advised of his rights.

“A team of three officers from Special Investigations, headed by Sergeant William J. O’Brien, reached the scene at eleven oh six.”

O’Brien

Your name, please?

Yes sir. William J. O’Brien, Sergeant, New York Police Department. Assigned to Special Investigations Squad of the First Division, Manhattan.

Do you have a prepared statement, Sergeant?

No, sir. Captain Grofeld told me there was a formal statement coming in from the PC’s office. He told me to just answer your questions to the best of my ability.

We’ve been told you were sent to the Merchants Trust on the morning of May twenty-second, and you arrived there with two other officers at a few minutes after eleven. Is that correct?

Yes, sir.

What did you find when you got there?

Two uniformed patrolmen had the suspect in custody. That was in the bank president’s office.

Who was present when you arrived?

Do you mind if I consult my notes, sir?

Not at all.

Well, those present when we arrived were as follows: Mr. Paul Maitland, president of the bank. Mr. Ira Rabinowitz, security officer for the bank. Mrs. Leslie Villiers, who is Mr. Maitland’s secretary-she let us in, but she didn’t stay in the office. I assume she went back to her desk in the outer office. Uniformed patrolman Salvatore Criscola. Uniformed patrolman Lester Weinstein. And the suspect, of course. He gave his name as Willard Roberts, but later we found out his name was Charles Ryterband.

No one else was present at that time?

Not inside the main office, no, sir. There were a couple of bank security guards posted in the outer office. I believe Mr. Rabinowitz had stationed them there to prevent the suspect from trying to get away.

Had you been advised in advance of the nature of the case?

Lieutenant O’Hara had told me there was a nut down there who was threatening to blow up the city unless the bank paid him a fortune in cash. I’d put in a call to the bomb squad from the cruiser when we were on our way to the bank. The bomb-squad fellows arrived about five minutes after us, but of course there wasn’t anything for them to do there. They hung around, on my orders, in case any questions came up that they might be able to answer-about the bombs in the airplane, you know.

When did the FBI come into it?

Not until after I’d tried to interview the suspect, and reported back to headquarters by telephone. Then I believe Captain Grofeld consulted with the Deputy PC, and they decided to call in the federal officers. The FBI agents, two of them, arrived at the bank at approximately twelve fifteen, and about twenty minutes later the FBI District Director showed up.

That was more than an hour after you reached the scene, then.

It didn’t take that much time to establish that the threat was authentic, but there were a lot of phone calls to the lieutenant and the captain and the Deputy PC before they rang through to the federal people. It couldn’t be helped, you know. Things were a little confused.

I can readily understand that, Sergeant. Now let’s get back to the point where you first arrived. What did you do?

I asked Patrolman Criscola to report. He filled me in, as much as he could. He didn’t know much more than we did at that point. Ryterband hadn’t said much to him-just given him the name Willard Roberts.

What was Ryterband’s general attitude at that point?

I’d have to call it stubborn nervousness, sir. He was scared, but he was smug at the same time. He knew he had us over a barrel.

Did he seem perturbed that the banker had called in the police?

Not particularly, no, sir. He seemed to have expected it.

Then he hadn’t told Maitland or Rabinowitz to keep the police out of it?

Not to my knowledge.

Isn’t that a bit curious?

He probably knew there was no way to avoid having us brought in.

Why not?

Because he was asking for such a tremendous amount of money. He must have known the bank would have to go outside its own resources to raise that much cash. The word was bound to get around. He figured things would go faster if the authorities were in on it right from the beginning. They had a fairly foolproof scheme, sir. At least that was the way it looked to us.

How quickly did you form that opinion, Sergeant?

Pretty fast, to tell you the truth. Criscola brought me up to date as soon as I walked into the room. It happened that the B-17 was making a pass over the Wall Street area just then. I could see it from the window, going overhead. It was right down on the deck. Maybe fifteen hundred feet above sea level. You could just about count the rivets in its belly. I doubt he was clearing the World Trade Center and the Empire State Building by more than a few hundred feet. If he had armed bombs in the plane there was no way to get him down without blowing something up.

You know something about airplanes, then?

I was a bombardier in the Eighth Air Force, sir. On B-24s, but it comes to the same thing.

Then it would appear you were the right man at the right place at the right time.

Just coincidence, sir. And it turned out there wasn’t much I could do about it. Having a knowledge of old bombardment aircraft didn’t do me much good-it just confirmed in my mind that the suspect’s threats had real teeth in them.

Who suggested calling in the Air Force?

I did, sir.

At what time did you make that suggestion, and to whom?

My first telephone report to Lieutenant O’Hara. That was at approximately eleven twenty.

Then it was no more than fifteen minutes between the time you arrived at the scene and the time you made your first report back to the lieutenant?

Yes, sir. It took us that long to get a coherent story. Everybody was trying to talk at once, you know how it is. I stuck to Criscola until I had the outlines of the thing. Then I talked briefly with Ryterband. He didn’t add anything new-only repeated his threat and his demands. Then I called the lieutenant, reported in, told him about the situation, told him I’d actually seen the airplane up there. He said he’d seen it too, of course. It was flying back and forth, the length of Manhattan. I suppose most everybody had seen it by that time. A few people I’ve talked to thought, it was some kind of publicity stunt or somebody making a movie.

In fact, that was the department’s official explanation at the time, wasn’t it?

It was until the explosions, yes, sir. I mean the damn thing was there in plain sight of anybody in New York. Anybody over forty would recognize the plane from the war, and a lot of younger people had seen movies and TV shows like Twelve o’clock High. I mean, at that altitude nearly everybody on the street recognized it for what it was, and naturally there were a lot of telephone inquiries. The news media were particularly curious, but then that’s understandable. We had to tell them something. I mean the department had to. I don’t know who dreamed it up, but the official line that was given out was that they were making a movie. Naturally a gang of reporters kept after us to tell them what movie and what producer and what studio and who was the star. I don’t know how the department shunted those questions off, but I gather they did. Of course you know New Yorkers-everybody had their own theory. All kinds of street-corner superstitions and wise-ass ideas. Some middle-aged German immigrant had a heart attack on Forty-third Street. Turned out he’d been in Dresden during the war.

So you suggested to the lieutenant that they ought to bring in the Air Force?

Yes, sir. Somebody who might be able to figure out how to handle the situation. He agreed right away.

But it was quite some time before anybody from the Air Force actually entered the case, wasn’t it?

Yes, sir, it was.

Harris

Your name, please?

Jack Harris.

Is that your full name?

Yes. Jack no-middle-initial Harris.

Your employment, Mr. Harris? For the record.

Reporter. Free-lance.

Oh? Weren’t you working for one of the stations during the Craycroft episode?

I was doing a feature story for WIMS-TV, yes. I wasn’t in their employ, not on salary. I do features for radio and TV news departments. If they like the idea, they buy it from me. I’m an independent.

That’s interesting. I didn’t know it could be done on that basis.

Well, I usually sell the story before I do it. In other words, I’ll call one of the stations, ask them if they’d like me to do a story on such-and-such. They give me the go-ahead and then I do the story.

You must have a fine nose for features then.

That’s my bread and butter, Mr. Skinner.

And perhaps a bit of ESP? Prescience? Is that how you happened to be there on the day Craycroft pulled his episode?

That was blind luck, nothing else. I was doing a story on the reconstruction of the West Side Highway. I wanted to go up and take some aerial footage-I do some of my own photography. I happened to have a contact at the Port Authority, one of the chopper jockeys, fellow named Woods. I went up with him that day. At that point I didn’t know Craycroft existed.

Is it normal for civilians to hitch rides on Port Authority helicopters?

They don’t mind. They’ve got a spare seat. You’ve got to sign a waiver, of course. And they don’t take ordinary people up. Joyriders, tourists, that kind of thing. But if you’ve got a legitimate reason to be there, they don’t mind. As long as you sign the waiver. They don’t want to get sued if you crack up. That’s life in these modern times, isn’t it-everybody’s got to cover his own ass.

I’m a bit surprised they agreed to. take you up on that particular flight. Wasn’t the pilot ordered to do a close-up surveillance on Craycroft’s aircraft?

Not originally, no. If that had been the case, you can bet they wouldn’t have allowed me to ride along. No, what happened was they’d assigned Woods to the standard harbor-survey flight. They do periodic spot checks to make sure the shipping traffic is keeping inside the buoy markers, look for hazardous debris floating on the water, even sometimes people stranded in small boats or life preservers. It’s a big harbor, New York. Anyway Woods was assigned to fly the normal spot check, and he’d arranged his flight path to give me a good run over the lower west side of Manhattan so I could get my footage of the highway construction. We were already in the air when he got instructions by radio to discontinue the normal survey and go chasing after Craycroft.

What time was this?

I don’t know exactly. You might ask the PA people-they must have kept a log. I know it was somewhere around twelve thirty, maybe twelve forty-five. We’d taken off at noon, but I can’t be sure how long we’d been up before Woods got the new orders.

Had you noticed the bomber before that?

Sure. We weren’t over Manhattan, of course-we were out the other side of Staten Island a good part of the time. But we’d come in over Port Newark and made one or two circuits around the Hudson estuary. We’d seen the plane a couple of times. I must have gawked at it for a while. I’m kind of an old-plane buff myself.

So I understand. You have a pilot’s license, don’t you?

Single engine. I flew Sabres when I was in the service. Never liked them much. Too fast to maneuver. One time I checked out in a Mustang-now, there was an airplane.

You fly for a hobby, don’t you?

Once in a while I go up to Rhinebeck and tootle around in the air show in some old biplane. I’m not a serious pilot. More of a fan. I wrote a novel about fliers once, but it got turned down-they said it was too closely imitative of Ernest K. Gann. I’d never read Gann at the time. After that I latched onto everything he ever wrote. Spectacular stuff. Have you ever read him?

I don’t read fiction much, I’m afraid.

Well, we’re not here to talk about that anyway, are we?

You said you’d noticed Craycroft’s plane.

Who wouldn’t? It looked brand-new. He’d done a marvelous restoration job. I mean that B-17 had to be at least thirty years old. They stopped making them around the end of the war.

What was the plane doing when you first noticed it?

Making a steep turn over the Battery and that corner of Brooklyn down where all the bridges are. I remember watching it cruise back up north-it was flying over the east side of Manhattan. I remember thinking what a beautiful goddamn airplane it was. They never built a plane that had so much grace, you know?

A rather brutal kind of grace, I’d say.

There’s violence in most grace.

Did you wonder what Craycroft was up to?

I assumed it was a publicity stunt for that new war movie that just opened at the Loew’s on Third Avenue. You know, the one about the Hiroshima raid.

Those weren’t B-l 7s at Hiroshima, were they?

No, they were B-29s that dropped the bomb. But you can’t expect Hollywood to pay attention to technicalities like that, can you?

When the radio message came through to Woods, what exactly did it say? What did it tell him to do? What did it tell him about Craycroft?

I don’t know, I didn’t have a headset. All I know is what he told me. He said he had to break off the flight pattern and go chasing after the B-17, the people on the ground wanted him to take a look at it. Later on he got more chatter on the radio and he told me the guy had bombs in the plane and was threatening to drop them on New York, but that was after we’d made our first pass at the plane.

How close did you fly to it?

Pretty close. We hovered out over the docks down around the Staten Island ferry slip at the foot of Manhattan. We hung there while Craycroft made his turn over the Battery and swung out over the bridges and went back up the east side.

What was your impression at the time?

Of our instructions or of the plane?

Both.

Well, as for the instructions, Woods hadn’t filled me in, but I assumed he was supposed to try and wave the plane off. There are restrictions against flying low-altitude over inhabited areas, you know. Craycroft was violating every FAA and CAA statute I’d ever heard of. He was flying treetop over the tops of the skyscrapers in Manhattan. Incidentally that’s a hard stunt to pull off, you know. The updrafts from those street canyons toss you up and down like a kite. I could see right away he was a hell of a pilot. As for the plane, I’ve already told you that. I thought it was splendid. Beautiful.

Did you get a glimpse of the pilot?

We could see the pilot all right. But we weren’ close enough to see his face. He was wearing a radio headset, I could tell that much. Earphones, not a helmet. The plane was running like a clock. All four engines in beautiful sync. When he made his turns he made them as smooth and easy as if he was ice-skating.

Were the bomb-bay doors open?

Not at first.