Hanratty wheeled the new Buick Model 57 recklessly into his parking slot behind the federal building and rushed up to the squad bay on the third floor. There he saw Miceli and Big Al Schroeder in an animated conversation.
"Boss," Miceli breathed, "Thank God you're here. We got a call from my snitch in the bootlegging gang."
"Shorty? That the one you mean?" Hanratty asked, panting from the run up the stairs.
"Actually, it's 'Short Z'. That's the code name HQ gave him. He's 6'2" and his name starts with A, so I guess they thought that would disguise him. Cheez, what a buncha dopes. Anyway, the delivery is being made tonight. The booze is offshore, and the Coast Guard can intercept the boat any time. But the Canadian guys on the boat don't know nuthin'. That'll just get us a few crates of hooch and some small fry. The payoff for the shipment - we don't know where that is, yet, or who's doin' it."
"Only the gang leader will drop off the cash. He's the key to the operation," Hanratty said with assuredness. "And he's here in the U.S. where we can do something about it. Will ShortZ be able to tell us where the payoff is?"
"Not a chance, Boss," Big Al chimed in. "He got away to make one quick call to us, but he said they're all being watched by K3's goons until the operation is over. K3 is the gang leader, but Short Z don't know his real name or what he looks like."
Hanratty stroked his chin. "Maybe Knute Klein - the hit man for the Miami mob? What's his middle initial?"
"I think he's still in Leavenworth, Boss," Miceli replied. "How about that Kathy Kingston broad - from Vancouver. That's where the distillery is. If Short Z ain't met him, maybe 'him' is a dame. Or maybe some redneck Klan member - you know, KKK?"
"Well, what did the snitch say? Did he give us anything to go on?"
"Yeah, he said K3 devised some kinda devious code to broadcast the coordinates of the payoff location. The head of the boat crew sent the coordinates in Morse code over the shortwave. K3 is gonna take the cash to the spot and leave it. Once the cash changes hands, the crew will deliver the goods onshore. He heard the radio making noise with beeps, but he don't know Morse code. He said the radioman copied it down and then did some kind of translation or something. The guy mumbled a few phrases as he was doing it. Short Z said he heard 'Marvel ... upbeat zinc cowboy...pickax...just jog grab blue tyke....' It's got to be some kind of enciphered code. He gave us the frequency. We tuned in just in time to catch a repeat transmission. I guess they do that in case it didn't all come through clearly the first time. It came in six strings. The first three lines were repeated, then the second three." Miceli handed a sheet of paper to Hanratty. "This is what we got."
Hanratty scowled as he looked at the gibberish on the page. "Figuring out K3's identity is the key to this case," he muttered. "We got to break this code and get there before K3 does. Or least before the boat crew picks up the cash; then we could get fingerprints to identify K3. Even if we break this code, how good are the coordinates going to be?"
"The ship has a professional navigator. They can take a reading on land in the usual degrees, minutes, seconds format with good accuracy," Big Al responded. "Same as us. That should get us within a few yards if we can break it. Who knows how it's going to be concealed. Could be anything."
Hanratty handed the paper back. "Get to work," he barked.
The two men stared at the characters written on the sheet.
CQUUYHAXVIHZWVJNHFFXVVIK
QNCXYETWZGGIKCIFMHYKTXM
UQQUQQJSWZZXKEHQZKYF
JRASTLIQQBBFVNTWVNKGUUCRDHTBWNE
OKGUOFYYBTVVNKQUESQYRBNJQYJTGUUQNNQB
MRYMTYVKBJJNFIQXXFBU
Hanratty retreated to his office and almost fell into his chair. He pushed his fedora back on his head and spread that day's New York World out on his desk. The headline read "Graf Zeppelin Attempts Flight Around World." No sooner had he filled his cup with the lukewarm sludge that passed for coffee than Big Al rushed in with Miceli right behind.
"Boss," he growled excitedly, "using the plaintext sequences Short Z was able to overhear, we broke the cipher. It's just a simple cryptogram. The first three lines use one alphabet, and the second three use another. We've got it into English words, but they don't make no sense. We don't know what to do next. And why did they use two different alphabets for the two halfs?" He dropped the sheet onto Hanratty's desk.
Hanratty's eyes narrowed. "There's something odd about this code," he muttered, almost to himself. "Look how the words are all from two to six letters. And why are there so many doubled letters?" He shifted his gaze from the code sheet to the newspaper. Then an idea came to him. He began to scribble furiously. After a few minutes he looked up, a ragged grin creasing his weathered face. "I don't know who or what K3 is, but I know where to look for the payoff." He showed the sheet to the two agents.
"That's amazing, Boss" Miceli stuttered. "C'mon, let's go check a map." As they filed out, he whispered to Big Al, "Why does the boss always read that New York newspaper here in California? If he's gonna read a New York rag, why not the Times? That's the real McCoy, y'know?"
Schroeder muttered back, "I dunno what it is with him. For the last 16 years he's read only the World. There's something about it that fascinates him."