“Our hands.”
“How many of you were there?”
“Six,” Cantor said, “including the Colonel.”
“And you all benefited equally from this item or items remaining in American hands?”
“Not exactly equally, but everybody was pretty much satisfied with the arrangement.”
“Pretty much satisfied? That means that at least one of you was pretty much dissatisfied, doesn’t it?”
“You could look at it that way.”
“Bob, how much did you, personally, benefit from this… patriotic act?”
“Let me put it this way, Stone: You’ve been in my shop.”
Stone had indeed been in Cantor’s shop, which was filled with exotic electronic equipment. “I have.”
“You and I are on pretty much the same pension. Where did you think I got the wherewithal to own, say, two, three hundred grand’s worth of gear?”
“I suppose it crossed my mind. I thought maybe you inherited something from somebody.”
“My father pressed pants on Seventh Avenue. Inherit?”
“Okay, I get the picture. How much better did the Colonel do than you?”
“It was the Colonel’s deal: He took half; the other five of us took equal splits of the other half.”
“And how did you transport this windfall back to the States?”
“Safely,” Cantor said. “By governmental means, you might say. We didn’t do the split until it was on these shores and not on government property any more.”
“How wise of you.”
“It wasn’t us; the Colonel is a very wise man. He found a way to convert the, ah, discovery, to cash, and at something close to its actual value.”
“So what went wrong?”
“What makes you think something went wrong?”
“Bob, the Colonel had an outstanding war; he was up for general. It is what every Marine officer at his level lives and breathes for; but he resigned his commission.”
“Well, yeah, there was that.”
“Why?”
“He had his reasons.”
“Come on, Bob, what were they?”
“Some brass hat got suspicious.”
“Was there an investigation?”
“Yes.”
“Were you investigated?”