attended a rally supporting the terrorists’ manifesto.”
That did not overly surprise me. Many left-wing intellectuals had been supportive of the movement’s aspirations.
“There’s more.” The smugness in his voice seemed to rise a notch. “The power behind the throne who probably recruited Symansky.”
“Oh? Who?”
“His wife. Stella. Quite an assortment of characters you had up there in those days,” he paused and I could hear him shuffle his notes, “her older brother was FBI. He’s retired now. She was recruited as an FBI informant when she was a student at Columbia. She married Symansky just after graduation. Hence her activities predate her husband’s. In Canada they worked as a pair on small retainers for both the CIA and the FBI. The FBI, of course, were also interested in the Bull project! Apparently, Bull had become an American citizen, but had violated an American embargo against shipping weapons to South Africa.”
“I know. He eventually got slapped on the wrist for it. Spent a few months in an American jail just south of the border. I gather it was some kind of plea bargain arrangement. Doesn’t sound like they were terribly concerned. But, Jesus, I still can’t get over what you’re telling me about the Symanskys!”
Haylocke laughed. “Their family backgrounds probably explain it. Deep roots in countries under Communist rule with European relatives who hoped that America would someday liberate them. For the Symanskys, attitudes towards Vietnam and China back then were probably a kind of litmus test of American loyalty. They must have hated the Monaghans and the group of ideological lefties at Winston. At least anyone who was American.”
“Yeah. Makes sense. Sort of. Did the name Montini come up at all?”
I could see Gina go still.
“No. None of the others either. So where are the Symanskys now?”
“At a college less than a hundred miles from here. Guess I’ll have to pay them a visit.”
“Let me know if you want a follow up from here.”
“Will do. And thanks for everything. I’ll check back with you before I write anything.”
“Right. Be careful what you say to the Symanskys. Don’t want to ruin my sources.”
“Will do.”
I put down the receiver. I filled Gina in on what she had not grasped from hearing my side of the conversation.
I gave Gina a baleful look. “I think this is all out of my league,” I said.
She gave me a thoughtful look. “You’re not going to quit, are you?”
“No,” I muttered. “I’m not a quitter. Just a swimmer who is out of his depths.”
She seem relieved. “Good. Now at least we know what the Symanskys were. Professional snits and liars.” She snorted contemptuously. She shook her head in distaste. “Monaghan we’ve discovered was an arrogant shit. Gooden is unco-operative and full of himself. And Hendricks is an evasive drunk. No wonder they turned out not to be the friends my father thought they were.”
“Fair weather friends,” I muttered, “We’ve all had our share of them.”
“All we have to do now,” she said, “is to keep hounding them. A murderer can’t hide behind arrogance and lies forever.”
It sounded simple enough. I wasn’t so sure. I glanced at my watch. It was time to visit Joe Gibbs. This time I did not object to Gina coming along. Joe had been more efficient than I had expected. We left with a large manila envelope full of documents. Gina and I went to the cafeteria.
“So what did he give you?”
I glanced quickly through the documents. “Where all their offices were located when the murder was committed. The courses they were teaching. Their class lists. What projects they had worked on or were working on. Let me see, what else? What grants they had. Any evaluations of their work or their conduct at the university. Their bios and publications.” I put the papers back “I want to have a quick look at the building where Monaghan was killed.”
We went out through a door that
That did not overly surprise me. Many left-wing intellectuals had been supportive of the movement’s aspirations.
“There’s more.” The smugness in his voice seemed to rise a notch. “The power behind the throne who probably recruited Symansky.”
“Oh? Who?”
“His wife. Stella. Quite an assortment of characters you had up there in those days,” he paused and I could hear him shuffle his notes, “her older brother was FBI. He’s retired now. She was recruited as an FBI informant when she was a student at Columbia. She married Symansky just after graduation. Hence her activities predate her husband’s. In Canada they worked as a pair on small retainers for both the CIA and the FBI. The FBI, of course, were also interested in the Bull project! Apparently, Bull had become an American citizen, but had violated an American embargo against shipping weapons to South Africa.”
“I know. He eventually got slapped on the wrist for it. Spent a few months in an American jail just south of the border. I gather it was some kind of plea bargain arrangement. Doesn’t sound like they were terribly concerned. But, Jesus, I still can’t get over what you’re telling me about the Symanskys!”
Haylocke laughed. “Their family backgrounds probably explain it. Deep roots in countries under Communist rule with European relatives who hoped that America would someday liberate them. For the Symanskys, attitudes towards Vietnam and China back then were probably a kind of litmus test of American loyalty. They must have hated the Monaghans and the group of ideological lefties at Winston. At least anyone who was American.”
“Yeah. Makes sense. Sort of. Did the name Montini come up at all?”
I could see Gina go still.
“No. None of the others either. So where are the Symanskys now?”
“At a college less than a hundred miles from here. Guess I’ll have to pay them a visit.”
“Let me know if you want a follow up from here.”
“Will do. And thanks for everything. I’ll check back with you before I write anything.”
“Right. Be careful what you say to the Symanskys. Don’t want to ruin my sources.”
“Will do.”
I put down the receiver. I filled Gina in on what she had not grasped from hearing my side of the conversation.
I gave Gina a baleful look. “I think this is all out of my league,” I said.
She gave me a thoughtful look. “You’re not going to quit, are you?”
“No,” I muttered. “I’m not a quitter. Just a swimmer who is out of his depths.”
She seem relieved. “Good. Now at least we know what the Symanskys were. Professional snits and liars.” She snorted contemptuously. She shook her head in distaste. “Monaghan we’ve discovered was an arrogant shit. Gooden is unco-operative and full of himself. And Hendricks is an evasive drunk. No wonder they turned out not to be the friends my father thought they were.”
“Fair weather friends,” I muttered, “We’ve all had our share of them.”
“All we have to do now,” she said, “is to keep hounding them. A murderer can’t hide behind arrogance and lies forever.”
It sounded simple enough. I wasn’t so sure. I glanced at my watch. It was time to visit Joe Gibbs. This time I did not object to Gina coming along. Joe had been more efficient than I had expected. We left with a large manila envelope full of documents. Gina and I went to the cafeteria.
“So what did he give you?”
I glanced quickly through the documents. “Where all their offices were located when the murder was committed. The courses they were teaching. Their class lists. What projects they had worked on or were working on. Let me see, what else? What grants they had. Any evaluations of their work or their conduct at the university. Their bios and publications.” I put the papers back “I want to have a quick look at the building where Monaghan was killed.”
We went out through a door that
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