Джон Болл - The First Team

As Barbara returned to the living room Hewlitt put the tips of his thumb and first finger together and raised his hand for her to see it.

“You were thorough?” she asked.

He nodded. “All the closets, under the beds, the shower stall, the attic entry, behind all of the doors. Did I miss anything?”

She sat down on one end of the low-priced davenport and the tension visibly eased out of her. “I’m sure you didn’t,” she answered, and her voice was eloquent with relief. “Come over and sit down. Now we can talk.”

Hewlitt sat besicfe her. “Who lives here?” he asked.

“I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter. These houses come on and off the rental market all the time. The woman in the real estate office used to be with the Agency; she still helps out now and then. It’s simply impossible for them to bug every house in Washington and then listen in on all of them, so when some perfectly ordinary people move out, we use the premises.”

“How long has this been going on?” Hewlitt asked.

“Not too long, only since we discovered how much listening in was being done all over town. When they get onto this trick, we’ll use something else.”

“I understand. Now let’s get down to cases; you wanted to see me.”

Barbara shifted her position and folded her legs up underneath herself.

“Yes. First, did you hear what happened to Bob Landers?”

“I was there; I saw it.”

She brushed a hand through the air. “I don’t mean that. Captain Scott, who’s more or less an Air Force messenger boy between the

White House and the Pentagon, asked to see Zalinsky. He got in. When he did he asked if Mr. Z minded what he did with the body. He was told that it didn’t make the slightest difference; he could do with it as he liked.”

“Scott was a little nervy,” Hewlitt commented.

Barbara nodded. “He was. He took the body to a mortuary and had Bob properly laid out. The next day he got some people from the Navy and some others, and made some fast arrangements — I don’t know just how. Anyhow, they took Bob to Arlington and buried him there, military honors and all.”

Hewlitt felt a surge of admiration for the men who had done that even while he was evaluating the risk that they had taken. “Is Scott one of our people?”

“Not so far as I know, but he’ll bear looking into. Now let’s get serious for a minute. Answer me point-blank — are you Asher?” “No, positively not. Are you?”

The moment he said it he realized the absurdity of the question, but once more his mouth had been faster than his brain.

Barbara ignored the slip. “I’ve checked with Mary; she hadn’t been contacted either. So as far as we know, there’s iust the three of us.”

“Let me tell you what I think,” Hewlitt said. “Since this organization has been set up for some time, I don’t believe that we should trust anyone — no matter who — until Asher appears on the scene. Somebody gave Bob away. He looked pretty bad just before…” He stopped to reshape his words. “I’m sure they put him through hell before he was shot, and God only knows whether he was able to keep his mouth shut or not.”

“Did he look as though he’d been drugged?” Barbara asked.

“No.”

“Then we’ll have to go on the assumption that he was able to protect us. If not…” She shrugged her shoulders and let them fall. “I agree with you absolutely that we trust nobody — take nobody in — until we are contacted in some way by Asher. If after a month nothing has happened, then we can talk about it again.” “That long?” Hewlitt asked.

Barbara nodded. “I know a little more about this sort of thing than you do, at least I think I do. Impatience is one of the worst enemies.”

“One month, then,” Hewlitt agreed. “I hope it isn’t that long.”

“If you hear,” Barbara continued, “let me know. Invite me to lunch and suggest an Italian restaurant if you’ve met him, a Chinese one if you’ve heard in some way.”

“Fine.”

“Two more things: first, don’t contact Mary; that’s to prevent too obvious a connection between the three of us. Don’t underestimate her either; she’s a very bright girl and knows how not to let it show.”

“All right.” He was a little frustrated that she had no more concrete news for him. “What’s the other thing?”

“This is my idea pure and simple, but until we get orders to the contrary, I suggest that you become my visible boyfriend. I just got rid of one, so it’s all right. That will cover any contacts we make.”

“I’d been thinking of the same thing,” Hewlitt said. “To be sure that I understand the ground rules, just how far does this, or is this, likely to go?”

Barbara looked at him. “That’s up to you,” she said. “Just don’t take too much for granted, that’s all.”

On Monday morning Zalinsky sent for him. This time he welcomed it; if he was to be confronted with a question about Landers he wanted it over and done with. Any kind of action was preferable to the inertia he had been enduring. He took pad and pencils and presented himself, feeling for the first time that he could face this man unafraid.

When he had been admitted Zalinsky waved him to a chair. He was again wearing the poorly cut suit he had had on during his first day at the White House and Hewlitt noted it; the President seldom wore the same suit twice in one month.

“Today we will converse in my language,” Zalinsky said.

“Very well,” Hewlitt answered. The idiom he used suggested that he had given his consent. Zalinsky noted it and looked up, but he made no comment.

“You are now extremely displeased with me,” Zalinsky went on in his own tongue, “because of the execution of Major Landers. He was your friend — I know. By the way, what does T.G.I.F. mean?”

“Thank God It’s Friday.” Hewlitt switched to English, as he had to.

“I see. I have no desire whatever to enlist your sympathy, I have no need of it, but do you know why I ordered the execution of your friend Landers so promptly?”

Hewlitt saw the trap: if he gave any indication that he was aware of Landers’ underground activities he would condemn himself with the same breath. He allowed a suggestion of suppressed rage to show momentarily on his face. “I have no idea whatsoever. Furthermore, he was a very outstanding man. You destroyed.

He stopped as though he were incapable of going on.

Zalinsky put his fingers together. “I told you that he was a fool — that was true. Like Don Quixote he wanted to fight the world when he was defeated hopelessly before he began. But he was a soldier who would not surrender; you should have had more of them.”

“And for this you ordered him shot,” Hewlitt said. He was totally unafraid now. When Zalinsky spoke his own language some of his crudity disappeared and he gave ample evidence of being an educated man. Hewlitt realized fully that he spoke Zalinsky’s language far better than Zalinsky spoke his.

“That is correct,” Zalinsky continued. “You will recall that I told you you were children at this game; you should take note of that fact. We became aware of the fact that Landers, your friend, was engaged in a reckless attempt to annoy us against our specific warnings to the contrary. My security people, who are not as stupid as their sometimes commonplace faces might suggest, reported this to me and also to their headquarters at home. Major Landers was inconclusively questioned after which I ordered his immediate execution. These instructions were carried out approximately one hour before I received orders to ship him back at once under close guard for complete interrogation in my country. The outcome would have been the same, but if you possess the intelligence that I suspect that you do, you will see that I spared him a great deal. A very great deal; many men would have prayed to God, if they had one, to be allowed to shoot themselves rather than to undergo professional interrogation such as we are able to administer.”