Джон Болл - The First Team

Hewlitt shook hands with him for the first time. “I’ll be down to see you off,” he promised.

Andrews Air Force Base was shrouded by a thick low overcast which hung in the air like a pall over the whole area and gave to everything a monotonous gray appearance. The wintry gloom penetrated all of the installations. It was the kind of a day when people had found it difficult to get out of bed and looked forward with more than average anticipation to being free to go home again and enjoy whatever creature comforts awaited them there.

Hewlitt tried hard to keep the mood from affecting him. An episode was ending, but to him it had seemed more like an era. He had gone into it as a White House functionary, accepted for his particular skill and well established in the minor role he had been assigned. Because his work had entailed a few minor and impersonal contacts with the President, he had enjoyed a very limited amount of prestige which had been ladled out according to the strict and stifling protocol which had regulated the government structure. He had worked in the White House, but he had still been classified far down the totem pole as one of those who did not matter.

He mattered now. In the morning papers one of the most important national columnists had given him a major write-up and had printed some of the facts relative to his service with the Thomas Jefferson project during the tenure of Feodor Zalinsky. It was not the first such publicity that he had received. Furthermore, the writer, who was noted for doing such things, had concluded with the firm recommendation that here was a man who was needed in a far more imgprtant level of government. He had already had a number of phone calls, one from the majority leader in the Senate, who had seriously proposed that he consent to fill out an unexpired term in that august body that had fallen vacant. The appointment, he had been firmly assured, was his if he wanted it; he was suddenly a popular hero.

He had no particular desire to become Senator Hewlitt, but he had agreed to think it over. One thing recommended it: he had a lot of ideas now and the opportunity to put some of them to work appealed to him. And he was certainly old enough to hold the job even though the bulk of the Senate was made up of more senior men.

He was touched on the shoulder and turned around to find Percival there. He had been expecting him and held out his hand. “How’ve you been?” he asked.

“All right. There’s been a great deal to do.”

“I believe that. When you’re through, are you going to continue in the business?”

“I’m not sure, Hew. It’s been quite a tour of duty, I’ll say that, but

I’d like to get back to my family, for a little while anyway, if I can.”

“I didn’t know you had one.”

“Three kids, and I don’t want them to grow up without knowing who their father is.”

Hewlitt opened his mouth to speak, then he saw Barbara coming. He waited for her and then put his arm around her in protective greeting for a moment when she stood beside him. “Where is he?” she asked.

“He’s not here yet. They’re bringing him in through the back way to forestall any last-minute problems that might come up.”

He looked at the familiar sleek lines of the four-engined jet transport that was fueled and waiting for its scheduled transatlantic flight. By order of the President, which in this instance probably meant that Admiral Haymarket had been responsible, Feodor Zalinsky and his immediate staff were being sent home in one of the official aircraft as though he had been an honored visitor. It was a bit of stage setting to support the “negotiations” between the premier and the senior American senator who was already overseas.

Hewlitt turned to Percival. “You’re sure that this won’t blow you — put you in any danger?”

Percival shook his head. “Under the circumstances — no. I’ve had advice on it.”

“I would expect so.” He left it at that; his conscience was clear. Before he could take up the next topic in his mind he saw a car coming, a single vehicle that was flying a flag on its front fender that gave it permission to be on the flight line. He watched as it pulled up, and the two secret service men who had been in his small White House cell got out. A few moments later Zalinsky appeared, wrapped in an overcoat which added little to his appearance. Hewlitt noted that; it was good stage setting for his return home, marking him as the humble people’s representative who still chose to wear the nondescript garments which had been his when he had left. Once more he realized that Feodor Zalinsky was not dumb.

He went over a few paces to meet him and was surprised when Zalinsky spoke first. “Good morning,” he said in English. “It is a lie, the day she is terrible.”

Hewlitt shook hands with him again. “I hope that it will be a lot better at the other end, Mr. Zalinsky.”

“It is necessary that it be, it will be my own country.”

“Then have a happy homecoming.”

Zalinsky abruptly changed the topic. “I see that you have the Barbara girl and the other man.”

“Yes, you asked to see them.”

Zalinsky began to walk over to where they were. He addressed himself first to Barbara. “We have also women in our country,” he said, “but you are of very good quality.”

She smiled for him. “Thank you, Mr. Zalinsky.”

“It is my sad fate that it became necessary for me to drive this man here into your arms.”

“Thank you very much,” she answered him.

Zalinsky thrust his hands into the pockets of his coat. “If I had been constructed higher and less round, I might have wished it differently,” he said, “but that for me is a fairy tale.”

He paused and studied the aircraft he was soon to board. “If I insult you I am sorry,” he added.

Barbara put her hands on his shoulders. “That never insults any girl,” she told him, “and if they pretend otherwise, they’re lying. Or they don’t deserve to be called female.”

“This is enlightenment I hope for my own country,” Zalinsky said. “For us Queen Victoria is still a very young person. And now this man.”

Hewlitt did not know how to make the introduction; Percival solved it by taking a step forward and offering Zalinsky his hand. “Since you admire Barbara, we have something in common,” he said.

Zalinsky shook hands with a slight embarrassment. “You are very intelligent,” he said. “I know of you for some time.”

Percival did not comment on that point. “I’m glad that it’s all behind us, Mr. Zalinsky, and I’m glad to meet you. You have done certain things that I personally appreciate.”

“It is good that we say this and then stop,” Zalinsky answered. “Agreed. Come back with your family, as a tourist, and let me show you around. You haven’t even seen the Grand Canyon. We have quite a nice place here.”

“I do not consider that possible.”

“Mr. Zalinsky, very few things are impossible anymore as long as we are living. Things change. People are changing. If you wish it, it can be.”

Zalinsky stared at his feet, then looked up once more. “It is time for me to go home,” he said. “I leave you now here.” He pulled his right hand out of his pocket, chopped a small gesture in the air toward each of them, then turned and walked toward the aircraft.

When he was on board, Barbara said, “I’m going into the terminal for a moment,” and left them.

“Will I be seeing you again?” Hewlitt asked.

“Very possibly,” Percival answered, “especially if you accept that Senate appointment.”

“You know about that.”

“Yes, it came down through channels. Do you care for some advice?”

“Shoot.”

“Take it; I think the admiral would be pleased.”