7 Tuesday, August 12th, 1947 (Part II - The Search)

Graham Godwin was gone. That was all Gwen had been able to tell me before I hung up the phone and dashed back to the car and an impatient Vera. She didn't understand my panic at first, at least not until I told her of what I had learned only moments ago. Now we were heading back to Long Island as fast as the car could take us. Just when it seemed the pieces might be coming together, one of my two main suspects had gone missing. It couldn't have been more coincidence that such a thing should happen today of all days. Another layer of mystery had been added to this case.

For it was only hours ago I had heard the news of Carter Matthews' death, which was doubtless the handiwork of the Trident. Now Godwin had turned up missing. In my mind, two alternative scenarios were forming. One in which the chauffeur fled voluntarily in order to escape prosecution, the other where the Trident had somehow managed to get a hold of him and eliminate him before he could turn on Burton. It would not have been difficult. To me, this seemed the most likely of the two, and if true, it meant time was running short for all of us...

"So he bolted on you?"

"Possibly. That or your friends in the Trident have gotten to him. Either way, we need to get back to Long Island as quickly as possible."

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Vera glancing out of the window gloomily. A fine mist of rain had begun to fall as we Manhattan. At times like this I wished I knew what she was thinking about. I still didn't know if I could trust her, yet I could not help but find my empathy growing for her as I learned more of tbe Trident and her history with it.

"...If the Trident got to him, it's already too late," she muttered. "Nobody lives unless they want them to live."

I took her words in with the grim knowledge that so far, this lined uo exactly with what I knew of this organisation. Carter Matthews had lived for as long as they had wanted him to. I could still hear his words ringing in my ears as he had described the peculiar encounter with the masked shooter om the day after Sanford's death. He recounted to me how he had received a brief note from "T". Next time, we won't miss. And those words had been eerily prophetic. For he lived on that day, but just a day after meeting with me, he had been disposed of.

"There's just one thing that bothers me, Vera...if what you say is true, then the Trident has eliminated everyone associated with them who has come into contact with me...everyone except you."

She had no answer and we continued on in silence, but my own words continued to weigh on me, deepening the mystery of Vera Walters. It troubled me that I could not discern her motive for turning against the Trident so suddenly, or why she had decided to cooperate with the investigation. To be sure, I'd dealt with plenty of witnesses who couldn't be counted on to tell the truth. Yet in each of these cases I had been able to either prove or disprove their testimony by comparing it to more reliable witnesses and hard evidence from the scene. There were no other witnesses to this crime, however, and the only hard evidence of foul play was the discovery of gasoline being used as an accelerant to burn the car and Sanford's body. With Matthews dead and Godwin now possibly having shared his fate, I more than ever found myself relying on Vera, the only one who could provide the answers I needed.

Yet my question continued to linger im my mind. She had not answered it, and my thoughts could not help but wander to the darkness when I thought of the dream I had last night. She had stood just feet away while the mysterious hitmen of the Trident restrained and dropped me into the abyss. The fact reminds that of the two members or the Trident I had met with yesterday, one was dead, the other still living. And if the Trident were meticulous enough to figure out that Matthews, a lowly coerced witness, had talked, then how could they have overlooked one of the main co-conspirators, someone who was actually living on the victim's property no less?

Nobody lives unless they want them to live...

If this was true, and there had not been a massive oversight on their part, then the Trident wanted Vera alive for a reason. The obvious conclusion, the only one that made sense, was that the Trident had laid a trap for me, and Vera was the bait to draw me in. Even so, I knew it was too late to back out. With Godwin missing, Vera was the only one who could identify Alistair Burton as the mastermind of Sanford's murder. For this reason, I was determined to cling to any hope that the chauffeur might still be alive.

By the time we were back in the city, the rainfall had increased to a steady downpour, which only further impeded our progress as traffic slowed to a crawl. The sunset had been blocked out by the overcast conditions which had taken hold or the skies, causing the streets to become congested with cautious drivers and anxious droves of pedestrians eager to get home or find shelter from the rain. In spite of my efforts to get around them, we were still taking far too long, and I was beginning to let my frustration get the best of me. This must have been evident to Vera, who had been sitting silently taking occasional drags of a cigarette. But now she suddenly spoke for the first time since our previous exchange nearly half an hour ago.

"You're no good to Miss Sanford dead, Ray."

"I am well aware of that," I curtly assured her as I continued to weave through traffic, ignoring the angry yells and crude gestures of motorists whom I had cut off. I didn't expect Vera to understand why I needed to be back by Gwen's side as soon as possible. Why I needed to find Godwin before he escaped justice or befell a terrible fate at the hands of the Trident. She'd come of age on the streets, where emotional attachments were viewed as weakness, and people were only to be used for what you could get from them.

"Look, all I'm saying is you shouldn't make the Trident's job easier by taking yourself out of the picture."

"And since when are you so concerned with my well-being?"

Vera seemed to ponder this for a moment. "Well firstly, since you are the closest thing to a friend I have had in a very long time, which speaks volumes of my past, mind you. And as I have said before, I have become find of you, and I would not wish any harm on you, even though you have displayed shocking malpractice by not promising me immunity from prosecution."

All the frustration seemed to melt away in the immediate silence following her words. Yet more than her words alone, I was suprised to hear candor in Vera's voice. When she had first expressed these sentiments, I had written them off in as an attempt to seduce me, to get me to lower my guard. Now her tone had changed, and when she gave another small smile that I caught from the corner of my vision, it did not appear scheming, but warm. I wondered if it was possible that Vers might be sincere after all. I was about to open my mouth to respond when she continued, forever cutting off whatever I might have said. It was likely for the best.

"And secondly, seeing as how we are both in this car, I would think that my well-being is just as important as yours. So in fact I am amending my earlier statement and ordering you to not get us killed."

I couldn't help but grin at her tenacity. "I can truthfully say I have never met anyone quite like you, Miss Walters."

Vera put out her cigarette in the ashtray and subtly smiled. "May I take that as a compliment, Mr. Allison?"

I contemplated for what seemed an eternity on what to say to her in reply. It was not a lie, Vera was one of a kind. She was bold, confident, and clever. Her personality and motives were as much a mystery as when we had first met. had admitted to taking part in a brutal murder, albeit peripherally, yet she had also displayed a capacity, if only in glimpses, for compassion and kindness that I had not expected. Now that I knew her story, I could not ignore her complexities and write her off as a typical criminal. Yet what I did not know was how much of what I was feeling was a genuine new understanding of Vera or something I had beem manipulated to feel. Perhaps I should have just kept my mouth shut, but suddenly I wanted her to know. I wanted her to know that I was not merely another heartless detective, that I believed it was not yet too late for her.

"Yes, you may."

1662 Seagrove Lane

Long Island, New York

Nightfall

What little natural light permeated the overcast clouds had been extinguished by the time we reached the estate, replaced by the soft glow of electric street lights. The normally busy streets of Long Island has fallen silent as the wind continued to kick up the rain into whirlpools of chilly sleet that pitter-pattered the car and everything around us. When we made it to the estate, I quickly exited with my umbrella open and rushed to open Vera's door. I offered her my hand, which she accepted, and together we huddled under the umbrella and moved as quickly as we could up the driveway to the front door.

Although I had not noticed it at the time, perhaps we had stood a little too closely under that umbrella. Perhaps I hadn't minded when our hands brushed briefly, or when our bodies were so close that I made contact with her shoulder, bringing our faces mere inches apart. Perhaps I should have seen the signs then, yet I was too wrapped up in my own thoughts. In my determination to ensure Gwen's safety, to find Graham Godwin. Those were the only thoughts which occupied my mind as I rang the doorbell once more, half-expecting Godwin to answer as he had done before. Instead, the person who had answered was Gwen Sanford herself.

"Ray?"

Once she realized it was me, her eyes seemed to instantly light up. I was internally relieved myself to see that she was all right.

"Thank goodness you're here. I've searched everywhere. I would've taken the car but it seems Mr. Godwin took it himself. I know he was a suspect, but I don't know what on earth's gotten into him!"

"I have a few theories," I muttered. "May we come in?"

"Yes of course," Gwen quickly stepped aside to let us through and closed the door behind us. The three of us were now standing in the foyer while the rain continued to beat against the walls of the estate. The place was even more silent than usual, and I wondered where all the staff had gone.

"I sent them home," Gwen said, as if reading my thoughts. "I couldn't risk putting them in any further danger. But I did make note of the one maid who-" she stopped herself short as she suddenly seemed to realize that Vera was here listening to all of this. "-who had information useful to the investigation."

I contemplated all of this. There had been a witness who saw Vera entering Godwin's room on the morning of the murder. The two events could have been unrelated, but that deemed highly unlikely. The question was how they were comnected. And that could only be answered by two people. Confronting Vera however, held too many risks. We needed to be on good terms in order for her to continue to cooperate. Godwin was the man who I needed to hear from. But this would never happen if the Trident had already gotten to him.

"I will speak with her after we find Godwin. So there is no one else here but us?"

Gwen nodded, and I took an internal breath to steady my nerves. It was difficult not to feel hopelessness setting in when things seemed so bleak. The splendorous mansion had never quite felt as lonely as it did now.

"That is likely for the best."

Gwen was no longer looking at me, however, her emerald eyes had shifted their focus to Vera, and although it was subtle, I observed her countenance had become just a tad annoyed with the fact that we were still standing close to each other. For a moment I feared she might broach the subject, but the moment quickly passed.

"What did you discover?" She asked instead. 

In my rush to get back to her and Godwin, I had almost forgotten the original purpose of our excursion. I proceeded to explain the new evidence we had unearthed.

"The check to Godwin was undoubtedly written by someone other than your father. The bank teller confirmed it, and if we can her her to testify at the trial for the prosection, the jury shan't have any doubt either. That mystery man would have to be the only other who had access to the master account of the company. It would have to be Alistair Burton."

"There's something else, isn't there?" Gwen pressed. I should have known I wouldn't be able to avoid mentioning it. She knew enough now to know when I wasn't telling her everything. In fact I had been planning on revealing it her anyways. It was a major driving factor in my desire to immediately have Burton arrested and prosecuted, and it proved that we weren't safe so long as the Trident continued to hunt us.

"Yes, there was something that troubled me greatly, and still has me completely mystified. As we were leaving the bank, a young man chased us by foot, then by car, all the way into the countryside. He was clearly determined to catch us for some reason. Yet when we pulled over to confront him9(, he continued as if nothing had occurred. He simply gave up the chase. I found it most strange."

"What Ray is forgetting to mention is that it was my idea to pull over," Vera chimed in breezily. Now she seemed back to her old self again, no sign of the candor and earnestness of the young woman I had spoken with in the car. I couldn't help but wonder which was the real Vera. 

"Is that true?" Gwen asked me pointedly.

"Yes," I replied as diplomatically as I could. "It seems Miss Walters' instincts may have served us well on that occasion."

"I'm not so certain of that," Gwen objected. "You could've been put in harm's way."

"On the contrary, it spared us a great deal of trouble," Vera shot back, the breeziness now gone, replaced by just a tiny amount of the defiant demeanor I had become accustomed to.

"Reckless decisions like that are asking for trouble, if I may say so."

Vera sighed. "Listen doll, I was trying to give us an advantage in the fight, to keep Mr. Allison here alive. And in the end, nothing happened anyhow. See, I've been nothing but helpful to the both of you, yet all I see before me is ingratitude. By all means, I can walk out now and let you try to solve this case on your own."

"Now there's an idea I can get behind," Gwen grumbled.

Before our discussion could escalate any further however, the doorbell rang again, bringing the reality of our situation crashing down. Who could it be? Godwin? Somebody sent to eliminate Gwen? To eliminate all of us? I slowly opened the door with my gun ready, but found only a middle aged man attired in a formal dinner jacket and had clutching an umbrella in one hand and a rolled up item that appeared to be paper in the other. I had never seen this man before, yet I instantly sensed a terrible aura about him. The news he brought would not be good, of that much I was certain. Sure enough, he handed me the roll of paper.

"The Trident sends its warmest regards, Mr. Allison." He spoke these few words in a slight New York accent and promptly turned to leave. I could not even be sure of whether he had a car, for he seemed to simply vanish into the downpour. I stood alone at the door clutching a piece of paper that might turn out to be useless, or hold the key to finding answers about Godwin and the Trident.

"What is it?" Gwen and Vera huddled around me, the previous quarrel seemingly all but forgotten. I unfolded the paper, revealing what appeared to be map, although I could not initially make sense of the crudely drawn lines and rectangular shapes. For all I knew, this could've been a map of anything, But after only a few seconds, Vera let out a small but noticeable gasp.

"Vera?" I asked with concern, "are you all right?"

"...I think I know where he is."

The Search

"I should've known all along. This is what the Trident always does with people whom they find particularly troublesome," Vera explained. "Warehouse number 3 on the docks of the Long Island Sound, Manhattan side. It was abandoned years ago, which meant the Trident was free to take it over and use it as an HQ."

"What exactly goes on there?" I asked.

"Well...only a select few have ever seen it. There's those who administer the punishment, and those who receive it. But as I told you, no one survives punishment from the Trident unless they desire it."

"And you're certain this is where Mr. Godwin has been taken?" Gwen asked.

Vera nodded, but she appeared frightened as she held the drawing in her trembling hands. "I have rarely seen something like this before. In fact this may be the first occasion..."

"How do you mean?"

"If they wanted him alive, he would have walked through that door long ago. If they wanted him dead, they might have sent a personal item of his as proof, or done nothing at all and waited for the press to report it."

Like Carter Matthews, I thought to myself.

"But this...this is unlike anything I have ever encountered. They sent this map expecting you to know where it was."

Because we had Vera, a member of the Trident, on our side now. The wheels in my mind began to turn once more. They knew Vera was helping me, yet they did not target her as they did the others. Why? What was she not telling me? Gwen was right in a way, this investigation would be far less risky without Vera's invvolvment. But Vera had been helpful. Despite every suspicious thing about her, she continued to cooperate fully. Now I needed her to decipher the Trident's mystifying motives.

"Then what is it the Trident wants with Graham Godwin? Do they want him dead or alive?"

Vera paused to consider this. "It seems neither..." she whispered quietly. "They want you to search. To see if you can make it to him in time. This is all a cruel game to them."

Then, as if brought back from the brink, my heart began to pound frantically in my chest once more. There was a chance Godwin might still be alive. It didn't matter that going to him might play into the Trident's hands. I hadn't let gangs intimidate me before and I certainly wasn't going to start now. I would find Godwin, and if he still had a breath left in him, I would preserve whatever words arose from it in the record. I would do everything to get justice for Stephen Sanford, for Gwen.

"We must go at once," I said, urging them to the door. "Come on, both of you."

I would have been to blind to not have seen the brief yet intense glares Gwen and Vera exchanged immediately after I had spoken. Their mutual mistrust was understandable, but I found myself hoping that the rift between them wouldn't get in the way of our investigation. There were more important matters at hand, although I did care for both of them, despite their vastly different personalities...

Gwen was a member of elite society, yet she was far more than that. She was sweet, caring, cultured, intelligent and determined to avoid her father's sins. Vera was from a broken home, had turned to crime which had hardened her heart over the years. She was possessed of many qualities which served men and women well who joined gangs early in life. A brash attitude, a cutthroat mentality, an irresistable charm that pulled in all who came near, and an intuition on par with that of any hardened detective. Yet beneath all of these layers, I had begun see another side of her, a side that dared not come out for fear that it would run her afoul of the Trident. Now here they stood, and I was reminded of the things they shared in common. They were steadfast, passionate, and not afraid to speak their minds. I could not have come this far in my efforts to solve this case without both of them. yet it seemed the only way to help one was to harm the other.

At last, the gravity of the situation allowed them to break their standoff and follow me out into the downpour. Gwen shared my umbrella and was gracious enough to lend her own to Vera, although I knew it more than a simple altruistic gesture. There was no time to dwell on such thoughts as we piled into the car. I opened the passenger side door for Gwen, but Vera quickly entered the back seat without waiting for me. I put my foot to the accelerator as we hit the slick road, and we began our return to Manhattan, the search for Graham Godwin had become yet another race against time.

The Docks

Thanks to Vera's directions, we were soon crossing back into Manhattan. The rain had begun falling so heavily that even with the lights to guide us, visibility was worsening and the skyline appeared only faintly in the distance. Yet Vera seemed to know this route by heart, and she guided us with the same cool, unemotional reserve with which she had led me to Public National Bank earlier. Meanwhile, Gwen say silently in the seat next to me, staring out the window much as Vera had done. I would have given anything to gain an insight as to what she was thinking of. Godwin? Her father? Me? She had sounded so devastated on the phone, I wished only that I could have comforted her then just as I longed to now. Yet now with Vera in the car, with Godwin missing, I knew it was still not thr right time. And a part of me feared that time might never come. And so the silence remained, hanging over us as a storm cloud, and no one dared to break it.

The docks were suitably abandoned on such a dreary evening, giving the line of old warehouses a forlorn appearance as they took a constant beating from the howling rain. The ferry from Manhattan to Long Island had once been a booming industry, but since the building of the Queensboro bridge and the rise in auto ownership, its prestige had gradually declined. Now it was the ideal place for an organisation such as the Trident. I slowed as we examined each of the warehouses for any sign of Godwin. Vera had said to look for Warehouse #3, however the buildings were numbered in reverse from the direction we had approached. We slid past #12, then #11, crawling towards our destination. Still I could see nothing. No signs of life, no signs that anyone had been here.

"What if they are expecting us?" Gwen whispered to me, finally ending the silence which had become nearly unbearable.

I felt for my gun. 'We will do what we must."

"They would have taken us out by now. This is all part of their plan," Vera said quietly. This thought did not exactly assure me, but it did seem plausible given that we'd been allowed to make it this far.

Our pace had slowed to barely registering on the speedometer. My eyes continually scanned, desperate to catch sight of anything in the torrent. Warehouse #6 came and went, then #5, then #4...

"Look! There he is!"

Gwen's words stunned me, but as I turned my eyes to follow her line of vision, I became aware of what at first appeared to be a clump of clothing in front of Warehouse #3. As we drew near, that clump of clothing began to take on a more defined shape, until it became apparent that it was in fact a crumpled body lying motionless, face down on the cold concrete while the rain battered it. The possibility that anyone could have survived a serious wound, let alone in these conditions, was practically nil. My heart sank into my stomach, we were too late.

Vera's voice was soft and sympathetic as she leaned foreward from the back seat and placed her hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry Ray, I did tell you this might happen-"

"No..." Gwen said, interrupting Vera, as if reading my thoughts. My eyes turned to her, had she seen something I had missed? "Look again! He moved, it was only slight, but it was movement. He's alive!"

I strained my eyes to pierce the hazy precipitation, and to my shock, Gwen was right. The fallen man almost seemed to be trying to push himself up or roll over on his back, trying to do anything within his feeble remaining strength to get our attention.

"Quick now, let's get him into the car!" I urged. For I knew he might at best have only minutes to live if he did not receive immediate treatment.

We quickly disembarked from the car, no time for umbrellas, leaving us chilled and soaked to the bone, but it was a far cry from the condition of the man.

"Good lord..."

"Mr. Godwin..." Gwen gasped.

As we finally stood over him, I could see that it was indeed none other than the man we had been searching for, Graham Godwin. There was no sign of a gunshot, but the proud chauffeur was only an apparition of his former self. his arms and face were horrifically bruised and bleeding and his fine clothes torn and tattered. There could be little doubt about who had done this. He had taken a terrible beating, and it was simply a miracle that he was still alive at all. 

Together, we lifted him and placed him upright in the back seat of the car.

"We'll have to take him to the nearest hospital," I said grimly. "Gwen, is my tape recorder in the glove box?"

Gwen quickly checked the glove box and nodded her confirmation to me.

"Good," I replied. "Because this may be the only chance I get to talk with him."

I hated to further dampen Gwen's spirits with this solemn assessment, and it pained me greatly to see the tears that sprang to her eyes as she contemplated what practically amounted to another death in her family. I cared too much for her, however, to tell a lie at this point, even a comforting one. I owed her at least my honesty.

And so it had come to this. The Trident had come for Godwin, one of my top suspects in the case. What he had to tell had the potential to either confirm my suspicion or break the case wide open. So far, I had Vera telling me he was in on it and a maid saying she saw Vera entering his room on the morning of the murder. That still left a lot of missing pieces. Pieces that only Mr. Godwin could fill in. As we raced back into the city in search of a hospital, I could only hope that his ragged breathing and broken spirit would hold on for just a little while longer. That he would not take his secrets to the grave with him.

And yet, even as my thoughts turned towards saving Godwin, those words from Vera continued to drift through my mind.

Nobody lives unless they want them to live.

The Trident wanted Godwin to live, or at least they had no objection to it, or they would have dealt with him as efficiently as they had Carter Matthews. The question, as ever, was why? I could only hope that it was not too late to uncover the truth...