Donald Hamilton: The Ravagers

I waited for him to elaborate, but he didn't, so I said, "And then there's this guy Ruyter, whatever his real name may be. If we don't know where he is now, do we at least have some notion of where and when Mrs. Drilling is expecting to make contact with him?"

"That contact may already have been made, once."

"How's that, sir?"

"There are about twenty-four hours of her time unaccounted for since she left White Falls."

"Only twenty-four?" I said. "Elaine Harms said three days."

"What Miss Harms' department can account for, and what we can account for, are two different things, Eric."

"Yes, sir," I said, chastened. "I'm beginning to gather that, sir. Like you said, a delicate situation, sir."

"Mrs. Drilling was carefully escorted on her way, for reasons that will become clear to you. The surveillance was intended to be complete and, of course, undetected, at least in the initial stages: she was supposed to think she'd got away from White Falls unobserved. Unfortunately for the completeness, modern cars are built very low, for what purpose I have never discovered, except to knock off your hat as you get in. The man who was keeping an eye on the subject in British Columbia-not one of ours-was driving one of these rakish objects of the automotive designer's art. Mrs. Drilling, as you know, drives a half-ton pickup truck. You can probably guess what happened."

I said, "At a certain point the lady headed out into the boondocks and separated the men from the boys? Or shall we say, the vehicles from the toys?"

"Precisely. She and the little girl went fishing at a mountain lake. Whether by accident or design, they picked a lake, the road to which was atrocious. The truck, with adequate clearance, had no real trouble, but the streamlined sedan quickly came to a halt with a punctured oil pan and other damage. Mother and daughter had brought sleeping bags. They spent the night at the lake, while the agent who was supposed to watch them was busy walking out to find a wrecker. Next day they came back to the trailer, which they ha4 left below, conspicuously displaying a handsome mess of rainbow trout."

"So our girl's a fisherwoman," I said.

Mac said, "Or somebody is. What she encountered up there besides fish remains unknown. The agent with the stylish taste in automobiles was withdrawn after he'd pointed out the right camp to Greg, who took over the job of surveillance a little earlier than had been planned."

I said, "Correct me if I'm wrong, sir, but I'm gradually getting the impression this is a put-up job. If they'd been following her clear from the state of Washington, with just the one slip, they could presumably have stopped her and retrieved the precious documents at any time."

"Any time after the first six hours, approximately." I heard papers rustle a couple of thousand miles away. "According to the report I have here, at three-twenty p.m. of the day she left home Mrs. Drilling stopped in a small town and mailed a well-filled manila envelope to a Mrs. Ann Oberon, General Delivery, Inverness, Cape Breton Isle, Nova Scotia. Inverness is a mining town on the Atlantic coast- an ex-mining town, I should say, since the local coal mines have been shut down for years. Mrs. Drilling's middle name is Ann, and her maiden name was O'Brien. The transition from O'Brien to Oberon has been made before."

I said, "Like the one from Smith to Smythe. Or O'Leary to Alire, down Mexico way. Elaine Harms said she was proceeding on the theory that the lady might have mailed the stuff to herself somewhere, but she didn't seem certain and she didn't seem to know where."

"I have already indicated that Miss Harms' agency has been permitted to know only as much as is considered good for them."

"I see," I said. "So it's definitely a plant. And they're not in on it, but we are."

"Precisely."

"What about the Drilling woman? Does she know the papers are phony?"

"Of course not. Mrs. Drilling's undisciplined, romantic impulses are being harnessed, like the power of the atom, for patriotic purposes. It was known when Ruyter appeared in this country last fall that his mission was to obtain information about Dr. Drilling's work at White Falls. When it became apparent that he was planning to get his information through the wife, the affair was watched with great interest and careful plans were laid to take advantage of it. There was a setback last winter when somebody less susceptible to his charms called the F.B.I. anonymously and suggested that Hans Ruyter's credentials should be investigated. It could have been a test, to see how we-well, the agency then conducting the operation-would react. It could not be ignored. Ruyter was therefore banished in a convincing manner, but it was hoped that he would eventually get in touch with Mrs. Drilling, his last chance of accomplishing his assignment, and he did. When his summons came, she responded eagerly, according to the report. The prepared papers were made available to her, with Dr. Drilling's assistance, and she took them."

I said, "So the husband helped set her up. Nice guy."

"I gather that Dr. Drilling feels that his honor has been besmirched and his reputation tarnished by his young wife's shameless and treasonable behavior."

"He sounds like a stuffed shirt," I said.

"He is one," Mac said. "But let us not complain, since his character operates in our favor. He has cooperated fully to date, and he has promised to give us any further help we may need."

"Good," I said. "I have an idea for a possible approach to the wife and child, but he's going to have to back me up, if somebody should check."

"He will," Mac said. "Tell me what he is to say and he will say it. In addition to his other motives, he fears for his career. To continue with the story, after leaving White Falls, Mrs. Drilling proceeded to drive north. The briefcase she disposed of almost immediately, in a trash burner in a roadside picnic area, making an attempt, not entirely successful, to destroy it by fire. Later the same day she mailed the envelope, as I have said. An agent managed to catch a glimpse of the address without resorting to official means that might have betrayed our interest should anyone inquire later. Naturally, the one thing that must not cross Mrs. Drilling's mind, or the minds of Ruyter and whatever associates he may have, is that we want those papers to go through."

I frowned at the rain on the glass of the booth. "Objection, sir. Anybody can stuff an envelope full of paper and put it in the mail. There's such a thing as a decoy, sir. It would have been more reassuring if the guy had looked inside."

"The risks involved in tampering with the envelope were too great. The next best thing was done instead. The woman was, of course, expecting to be traced eventually, stopped, questioned, and searched. Presumably that was why she had disposed of the incriminating evidence at the earliest possible moment. It was arranged for her expectations to be fulfilled shortly after she entered Canada, and it was definitely established that she no longer had any valuable documents in her possession."

"I see. Elaine said the outfit had been searched. This was before they lost track of her for a day."

"Yes."

"So she had the stuff when she left White Falls and she didn't have it when she got to B.C. And she mailed only one item, I suppose, on the way."

Mac said, "That is how it stands. It is not absolutely watertight, of course, but the agency from which we are taking over feels certain that she is heading for Inverness and that the material will be awaiting her there."

I said, "And we want those papers to go through, you say?"

"Of course. As far as we are concerned, that is the whole purpose of the operation. We are to see that she is successful in retrieving the material in Inverness and making delivery."