The Anderson Tapes

The Anderson Tapes

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by Lawrence Sanders
     
 

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The explosive Edgar Award–winning debut novel—told entirely through surveillance recordings, eyewitness reports, and other “official” documents—by New York Times bestselling author Lawrence Sanders

New York City. Summer 1968.Newly sprung from prison, professional burglar John Anderson is preparing for the

Overview

The explosive Edgar Award–winning debut novel—told entirely through surveillance recordings, eyewitness reports, and other “official” documents—by New York Times bestselling author Lawrence Sanders

New York City. Summer 1968.Newly sprung from prison, professional burglar John Anderson is preparing for the biggest heist of his criminal career. The mark is a Manhattan luxury apartment building with the tony address of 535 East Seventy-Third Street. Enlisting a crew of scouts, con artists, and a getaway driver, Anderson orchestrates what he believes to be a foolproof plan. To pull off the big score, he needs one last thing: the permission of the local mafia, who expect a piece of the action.  But no one inside Anderson’s operation knows that the police have recorded their conversations. The New York Police Department has hatched a plot of its own—but even its task force may not be enough to stop such a cunningly planned robbery.

Product Details

ISBN-13:
9781453298442
Publisher:
Open Road Media Mystery & Thriller
Publication date:
02/12/2013
Sold by:
Barnes & Noble
Format:
NOOK Book
Pages:
328
Sales rank:
128,266
File size:
724 KB

Read an Excerpt

The Anderson Tapes


By Lawrence Sanders

OPEN ROAD INTEGRATED MEDIA

Copyright © 1970 Lawrence A. Sanders Enterprises, Inc.
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4532-9844-2


CHAPTER 1

THE BUILDING AT 535 East Seventy-third Street, New York City, was erected in 1912 as a city residence for Erwin K. Barthold, a Manhattan merchant who owned Barthold, Inc., a firm that dealt in rope, tar, ships' supplies, and marine gear of all types. On the death of Mr. Barthold in 1931, his widow, Edwina, and his son, Erwin, Jr., lived in the house until 1943. Erwin Barthold, Jr., was killed on 14 July, 1943, while engaged on a bombing mission over Bremen, Germany. This was, incidentally, the city in which his father had been born. Mrs. Barthold died six months after the death of her son, from cancer of the uterus.

The house on Seventy-third Street then passed to a brother of the original owner and builder. He was Emil Barthold, a resident of Palm Beach, Florida and shortly after the will was probated, Emil Barthold sold the house (16 February, 1946) to Baxter & Bailey, 7456 Park Avenue, New York City.

This investment company then converted the town house into eight separate apartments and two professional suites on the ground floor. A self-service elevator and central air conditioning were installed. The apartments and suites were sold as cooperatives, at prices ranging from $26,768 to $72,359.

The building itself is a handsome structure of gray stone, the architecture generally in the French chateau style. The building has been certified and listed by the New York City Landmark Society. Outside decoration is minimal and chaste; the roof is tarnished copper. The lobby is lined with veined gray marble slabs interspersed with antiqued mirrors. In addition to the main entrance, there is a service entrance reached by a narrow alleyway which stretches from the street to a back door that leads to a wide flight of concrete stairs. The two apartments on the top floor have small terraces. There is a small apartment in the basement occupied by the superintendent. The building is managed by Shovey & White, 1324 Madison Avenue, New York.

Prior to 1 September, 1967, for a period of several years, Apartment 3B at 535 East Seventy-third Street had been occupied by a married couple (childless), Agnes and David Everleigh. On or about that date, they separated, and Mrs. Agnes Everleigh remained in possession of Apartment 3B, while David Everleigh took up residence at the Simeon Club, Twenty-third Street and Madison Avenue.

On approximately 1 March, 1968 (this is an assumption), David Everleigh engaged the services of Peace of Mind, Inc., a private investigation agency located at 983 West Forty-second Street, New York. With David Everleigh's assistance—this is presumed, since he still possessed a key to Apartment 3B and was its legal owner—an electronic device was installed in the base of the telephone in Apartment 3B.

It was a microphone transmitter—an Intel Model MT-146B—capable of picking up and transmitting telephone calls as well as conversations taking place in the apartment. A sum of $25 per month was paid to the superintendent of 534 East Seventy-third Street—the building across the street—to allow Peace of Mind, Inc., to emplace a voice-actuated tape recorder in a broom closet on the third floor of that building.

Thus, it was not necessary for an investigator to be present. The voice-actuated tape recorder recorded all telephone calls and interior conversations taking place in Apartment 3B, 535 East Seventy-third Street. The tape was retrieved each morning by an operative from Peace of Mind, Inc., and a fresh tape installed.

The resulting recordings became the basis of David Everleigh's suit for divorce (Supreme Court, New York County) on the grounds of adultery (Everleigh v. Everleigh, NYSC-148532), and transcriptions of the tapes have become a matter of public record, which allows them to be reproduced here. It is of some interest to note that the verdict of the trial judge, in favor of David Everleigh, has been appealed by Mrs. Everleigh's attorneys on the grounds that David Everleigh did not obtain a court order, and had no legal right, to implant an electronic surveillance device in Apartment 3B, despite the fact that he was legal owner of the premises in question.

It is expected this litigation will eventually reach the Supreme Court of the United States and will result in a landmark decision.

The following is an excerpt from the transcription made from the Peace of Mind, Inc., tape recording made at approximately 1:15 A.M. on the morning of 24 March, 1968.

This is tape POM-24MAR68-EVERLEIGH. Those present, Mrs. Agnes Everleigh and John Anderson, have been identified by voice prints and interior evidence.

[Sound of door opening and closing.]


MRS. EVERLEIGH: Here we are ... make yourself at home. Throw your coat anywhere.

ANDERSON: How come a classy place like this don't have a doorman?

MRS. EVERLEIGH: Oh, we have one, but he's probably down in the basement with the super, sucking on a jug of muscatel. They're both a couple of winos.

ANDERSON: Oh?

[Lapse of seven seconds.]

ANDERSON: Nice place you got here.

MRS. EVERLEIGH: So glad you like it. Mix us a drink. The stuff's over there. Ice in the kitchen.

ANDERSON: What'll you have?

MRS. EVERLEIGH: Jameson's. On the rocks. With a little soda. What do you drink?

ANDERSON: Got any cognac? Or brandy?

MRS. EVERLEIGH: I have some Martell.

ANDERSON: That'll do fine.

[Lapse of forty-two seconds.]

ANDERSON: Here you are.

MRS. EVERLEIGH: Cheers.

ANDERSON: Yeah.

[Lapse of six seconds.]

MRS. EVERLEIGH: Sit down and relax. I'm going to take off my girdle.

ANDERSON: Sure.

[Lapse of two minutes sixteen seconds.]

MRS. EVERLEIGH: That's better. Thank God.

ANDERSON: Are all the apartments in the building like this?

MRS. EVERLEIGH: Most of them are larger. Why?

ANDERSON: I like it. Class.

MRS. EVERLEIGH: Class? Jesus, you're too much. What do you do for a living?

ANDERSON: I work on a folding machine in a printing plant. For a supermarket newspaper. A daily. Their specials and things like that.

MRS. EVERLEIGH: Aren't you going to ask me what I do?

ANDERSON: Do you do anything?

MRS. EVERLEIGH: That's a laugh. My husband owns this apartment. We're separated. He doesn't give me a cent. But I do all right. I'm the buyer for a chain of women's lingerie shops.

ANDERSON: That sounds interesting.

MRS. EVERLEIGH: Go to hell.

ANDERSON: Are you lushed?

MRS. EVERLEIGH: Some. Not enough.

[Lapse of seventeen seconds.]

MRS. EVERLEIGH: I hope you don't think I make a habit of picking men up off the street?

ANDERSON: Why me?

MRS. EVERLEIGH: You looked clean and reasonably well dressed. Except for that tie. God, I hate that tie. Are you married?

ANDERSON: No.

MRS. EVERLEIGH: Ever been?

ANDERSON: No.

MRS. EVERLEIGH: Jesus Christ, I don't even know your name. What the hell's your name?

ANDERSON: Another drink?

MRS. EVERLEIGH: Sure.

[Lapse of thirty-four seconds.]

MRS. EVERLEIGH: I thank you. What the hell's your name?

ANDERSON: John Anderson.

MRS. EVERLEIGH: That's a nice, clean, neat name. My name's Agnes Everleigh—Mrs. David Everleigh that was. What do I call you—Jack?

ANDERSON: Mostly I'm called Duke.

MRS. EVERLEIGH: Duke? Royalty, for God's sake. Jesus, I'm sleepy....

[Lapse of four minutes thirteen seconds. At this point there is evidence (not admissible) that Mrs. Everleigh dozed off. Anderson wandered about the apartment (supposition). He inspected the intercom system connected to the bells and the microphone in the lobby. He inspected the locks on the windows. He inspected the lock on the front door.]

MRS. EVERLEIGH: What are you doing?

ANDERSON: Just stretching my legs.

MRS. EVERLEIGH: Would you like to stay the night?

ANDERSON: No. But I don't want to go home yet.

MRS. EVERLEIGH: Thanks a lot, bum.

[Sound of loud slap.]

MRS. EVERLEIGH [gasping]: What did you do that for?

ANDERSON: That's what you wanted, isn't it?

MRS. EVERLEIGH: How did you know?

ANDERSON: A big, beefy lady executive like you ... it had to be.

MRS. EVERLEIGH: Does it show that plainly?

ANDERSON: No. Unless you're looking for it. Should I use my belt?

MRS. EVERLEIGH: All right.

The following is supposition, supported in part by eyewitness testimony.

When he left Apartment 3B at 3:04 A.M., John Anderson spent a few moments examining the lock on Apartment 3A, across the foyer. He then took the self-service elevator up to the fifth floor, examined the locks, and made his way slowly downward, examining doors and locks. There were no peepholes in apartment doors above the ground floor.

When he exited from the lobby—still unattended by a doorman—he was able to examine the security arrangements of the outside doors and the bell system. He then waited on the corner of East Seventy-third Street and York Avenue for a cab, and rode home to his Brooklyn apartment, arriving there at 4:26 A.M. The lights in his apartment were extinguished at 4:43 A.M. (testimony of eyewitness).

CHAPTER 2

AT 2:35 P.M., ON the afternoon of Wednesday, 17 April, 1968, a black sedan was parked on the north side of Fifty-ninth Street, New York City, between Fifth Avenue and Avenue of the Americas. The vehicle was a 1966 Cadillac Eldorado (with air conditioning), license HGR-45-9159. It was registered as a company car by the Benefix Realty Co., Inc., 6501 Fifth Avenue, New York, New York.

The chauffeur of the car—later identified as Leonard Goldberg, forty-two, a resident of 19778 Grant Parkway, the Bronx, New York—was observed lounging nearby.

The sole occupant of the parked car, seated in the back, was Frederick Simons, vice-president of the Benefix Realty Co., Inc. He was fifty-three years old; approximately 5 feet 7 inches; 190 pounds. He wore a black bowler and a double-breasted tweed topcoat. His hair and mustache were white. He was a graduate of Rawlins Law College, Erskine, Virginia, and was also licensed as a certified public accountant in the State of New York (#41-5G-1943). He had no criminal record, although he had twice been questioned—by the New York Federal District Attorney (Southern District) and by a grand jury convened by Manhattan Supreme Court—regarding the control of the Benefix Realty Co., Inc., by an organized criminal syndicate, and the role Benefix had played in the procurement of liquor licenses for several taverns and restaurants in New York City and Buffalo, New York.

Approximately five months prior to this date, on 14 November, 1967, a court order (MCC-B-189M16) had been obtained for the emplacement of an electronic transmitting device in the vehicle described. Application was made by the Frauds Division, New York State Income Tax Bureau. A Gregory MT-146-GB microphone transmitter was concealed under the dashboard of the aforesaid vehicle. It was implanted in the garage where cars registered to the Benefix Realty Co., Inc., were serviced.

At 2:38 P.M., on the afternoon of Wednesday, 17 April, 1968, a man was seen approaching this car. He was later identified by an eyewitness at the scene and by voice prints.

John "Duke" Anderson, thirty-seven, was a resident of 314 Harrar Street, Brooklyn, New York. He was 5 feet 11 inches; 178 pounds; brown hair and brown eyes; no physical scars; dressed neatly and spoke with a slight Southern accent. Anderson was a professional thief, and four months previously had been paroled after serving twenty-three months at Sing Sing (#562-8491) after his conviction on 21 January, 1966, in Manhattan Criminal Court on a charge of breaking and entering. Although it was the first conviction on his record, he had been arrested twice before in New York State, once for burglary, once for simple assault. Both charges had been dropped with no record of trial.

Tape NYSITB-FD-17APR68-106-1A begins:


SIMONS: Duke! My Lord, it's good to see you. How you been?

ANDERSON: Mr. Simons. Mighty fine to see you. How you been?

SIMONS: Fine, Duke, just fine. You're looking well. A little thinner, maybe.

ANDERSON: I expect so.

SIMONS: Of course, of course! We've got this little refreshment stand here. As you can see, I'm already partaking. Can I offer you something?

ANDERSON: Cognac? Or brandy?

SIMONS: How will Rémy Martin suit you?

ANDERSON: Just right.

SIMONS: Pardon the paper cups, Duke. We find it's easier that way.

ANDERSON: Sure, Mr. Simons.

[Lapse of five seconds.]

SIMONS: Well ... here's to crime.

[Lapse of four seconds.]

ANDERSON: God ... that's good.

SIMONS: Tell me, Duke—how have things been going for you?

ANDERSON: I got no complaints, Mr. Simons. I appreciate everything you all did for me.

SIMONS: You did a lot for us, too, Duke.

ANDERSON: Yes. But it wasn't much. I got the letters through when I could. Sometimes I couldn't.

SIMONS: We understood, I assure you. We don't expect perfection when you're inside.

ANDERSON: I'll never forget that night I got back to Manhattan. The hotel room. The money. The booze. And that cow you sent over. And the clothes! How did you know my sizes?

SIMONS: We have ways, Duke. You know that. I hope you liked the woman. I picked her out myself.

ANDERSON: Just what the doctor ordered.

SIMONS [laughing]: Exactly right.

[Lapse of nine seconds.]

ANDERSON: Mr. Simons, since I got out I been walking the arrow. I work nights on a folding machine in a printing plant. We do a daily sheet a chain of supermarkets gets out. You know—special buys for the day, things like that. And I report regular. I don't see any of the old gang.

SIMONS: We know, Duke, we know.

ANDERSON: But something came up I wanted to ask you about. A wild idea. I can't handle it myself. That's why I called.

SIMONS: What is it, Duke?

ANDERSON: You'll probably think I'm nuts, that those twenty-three months scrambled my brains.

SIMONS: We don't think you're nuts, Duke. What is it ... a campaign?

ANDERSON: Yes. Something I came across about three weeks ago. It's been chewing at me ever since. It might be good.

SIMONS: You say you can't handle it yourself? How many will you need?

ANDERSON: More than five. No more than ten.

SIMONS: I don't like it. It isn't simple.

ANDERSON: It is simple, Mr. Simons. Maybe I could do with five.

SIMONS: Let's have another.

ANDERSON: Sure ... thanks.

[Lapse of eleven seconds.]

SIMONS: What income do you anticipate?

ANDERSON: You want me to guess? That's all I can do—guess. I guess a minimum of a hundred thou.

[Lapse of six seconds.]

SIMONS: And you want to talk to the Doctor?

ANDERSON: Yes. If you can set it up.

SIMONS: You better tell me a little more about it.

ANDERSON: You'll laugh at me.

SIMONS: I won't laugh at you, Duke. I promise.

ANDERSON: There's a house on the East Side. Way over near the river. Used to be a privately owned town house. Now it's apartments. Doctors' offices on the ground floor. Eight apartments on the four floors above. Rich people. Doorman. Self-service elevator.

SIMONS: You want to hit one of the apartments?

ANDERSON: No, Mr. Simons. I want to hit the whole building. I want to take over the entire fucking building and clean it out.

CHAPTER 3

ANTHONY "DOCTOR" D'MEDICO, FIFTY-FOUR, legal residence at 14325 Mulberry Lane, Great Neck, Long Island, was identified before the U.S. Senate Special Subcommittee to Investigate Organized Crime, (Eighty-seventh Congress, first session), on 15 March, 1965 (Report of Hearings, pp. 413-19), as being the third-ranking capo (captain) of the Angelo family. The Angelos were one of six families controlling the distribution of illicit drugs, extortion, prostitution, loan-sharking, and other illegal activities in the New York, New Jersey, Connecticut, and eastern Pennsylvania area.

D'Medico was president of the Benefix Realty Co., Inc., 6501 Fifth Avenue, New York City. His other holdings included half-partnership in the Great Frontier Steak House, 106-372 Flatbush Avenue, Brooklyn, New York; full ownership of the New Finnish Sauna and Health Club, 746 West Forty-eighth Street, Manhattan; one-third ownership of Lafferty, Riley, Riley & D'Amato, brokers (twice fined by the Securities and Exchange Commission), of 1441 Wall Street, Manhattan; and suspected but unproved ownership or interest in several small taverns, restaurants, and private clubs on the East Side of Manhattan catering to male homosexuals and lesbians.


(Continues...)

Excerpted from The Anderson Tapes by Lawrence Sanders. Copyright © 1970 Lawrence A. Sanders Enterprises, Inc.. Excerpted by permission of OPEN ROAD INTEGRATED MEDIA.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

Meet the Author

Lawrence Sanders (1920–1998) was the New York Times bestselling author of more than forty mystery and suspense novels. The Anderson Tapes, completed when he was fifty years old, received an Edgar Award from the Mystery Writers of America for best first novel. His prodigious oeuvre encompasses the Edward X. Delaney, Archy McNally, and Timothy Cone series, along with his acclaimed Commandment books. Stand-alone novels include Sullivan's Sting and Caper. Sanders remains one of America’s most popular novelists, with more than fifty million copies of his books in print.      

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The Anderson Tapes 4.3 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 4 reviews.
Just_the_facts_Maam More than 1 year ago
When I read the description for this book, I was a little hesitant because it said the story was told through fragments of police reports, interrogations, reports of wiretaps, and statements. As I began to read it, however, I was drawn into the story and I came to appreciate the author's clever idea of structuring the story in this manner. The action moves forward, the characters develop and you can imagine the scenes as the story unfolds. It kept my attention and was interesting. I recommend this book without reservation.
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