Джон Болл - The First Team

The senator sat like a man transfixed, his visitor forgotten. His lips moved unconsciously as they shaped words which were not to be spoken; his eyes focused on something an infinite distance away. He struggled to regain his composure. “I find this very hard to believe,” he said.

“I well understand that, sir.”

“How sure are you of your facts? I don’t know you at all and I have never heard of you before.”

“If I had any different facts to lay before you, senator, I would not have chosen these. My personal reputation doesn’t enter into it.”

Fitzhugh’s voice acquired an edge. “You could be trying to take advantage of me. My positions in regard to important public issues are well known and some of them are highly unpopular with the militarists.…”

That was a challenge Hewlitt refused to ignore. He was doing his best to be considerate of Fitzhugh, but personal abuse was beyond what he was willing to accept. He put a bite into his own voice to let the senator know precisely that. “Sir, if I must declare myself personally, I am in total disagreement with your announced position on the matter of the armed forces, but this has nothing whatever to do with the distasteful job before me now. Whether you have heard of me or not, the fact remains that I am not careless with the truth and in my position, which was one of high responsibility within certain limits until recently, the greatest accuracy was constantly required.”

Fitzhugh spoke in a different tone. “If I offended you, I’m sorry. You must understand that I find your message incredible. The premier is my close personal friend.”

Hewlitt held onto the advantage. “May I ask how often you have seen him, sir?”

“Only once, face to face, but we had a very clear and basic understanding…”

Hewlitt recrossed his legs and folded his hands in his lap; he was in the driver’s seat now and knew that he would have to stay there. “Senator, I have some very specific information concerning your meeting with the premier; it comes directly through Mr. Zalinsky. I will leave it to you whether you wish to hear it or not.”

“Yes, of course. I find no virtue in ignorance.”

“On that point, sir, we are in complete agreement. You will have to accept my word that I did not invent this: Mr. Zalinsky told me very plainly that the premier saw you when you were in his country for only one reason. He wanted you to gain face from the meeting so that you would be reelected.”

“I find that very farfetched.”

It was a definite thrust in the old Fitzhugh manner; Hewlitt answered with one of his own. “It is exceedingly farfetched, sir, to find our country conquered and ourselves in the hands of victorious enemies. These people do not do things by the rational set of rules that we try to follow.”

The toughness which had long characterized Fitzhugh on the

Senate floor refused to let him yield. “Mr. Hewlitt, I will confide in you a little since I see that you are worthy of trust: the premier did not just grant me an audience for the sake of the news value, we had an extremely warm and very candid meeting of considerable duration. We share many views in common.”

“I don’t question that impression, senator; the premier is rather famous for his technique under such circumstances. Do you know what they call him in his own country?”

“No.”

“Literally translated, ‘the Actor.’ ”

Fitzhugh considered that and weighed it against the unpleasant realities he could no longer deny. When he had faced up to it, he looked at Hewlitt squarely and said, “In other words…”

“Man to man, sir, and American to American, you were had.”

The senator drummed his fingertips slowly on his desk. “Did Mr. Zalinsky say that in so many words?”

“Substantially so, yes, sir.” This time he felt that he had to add a bit more. “Let me say something on my own: I told you that I didn’t agree with all of your policies, but at no time have I ever questioned your patriotism. It would be impossible to do so now. You’ve attempted something fine for all of us and, speaking as one individual, I profoundly appreciate it.”

The senator had his thoughts elsewhere. “There is no possible doubt that Mr. Zalinsky has been instructed to advise me to attempt no more communications with his government.”

“That is it, sir, precisely.”

“You could not have misunderstood him.”

“No, senator, I can guarantee that.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because of the precise words which he used.”

“I would like to know what they were.”

“I would prefer not to repeat them, senator, I have too much respect for you for that.”

“Nevertheless, I want to know. I want to be absolutely certain in my mind.”

“Very well, sir. Mr. Zalinsky said that if you didn’t stop, it might be necessary to take your toys away from you.”

“In those exact words.”

“Yes, sir. I’m sorry.”

A pause hung in the air, then the senator found his dignity. “Thank you for coming to see me, Mr. Hewlitt.”

Hewlitt rose to his feet. “Thank you for receiving me, senator.” That was not the moment to say anything more and he knew it. He shook hands formally and left. As he walked down the nearly empty corridor toward the exit, his relief at having the unpleasant interview behind him was overshadowed by a new opinion of Fitz-hugh. Politically he still considered the senator a near disaster, but he had taken a tough one right on the chin and he had taken it like a man.

Walter Wagner was the finest athlete that his Pennsylvania high school had ever known. He was not particularly tall, but he had a phenomenal physique, extraordinary reflexes, and an agile brain. For three years he was a superb principal quarterback on the football team; he displayed an almost unerring ability to call the right play in a crucial situation and to scramble for yardage with dazzling changes of direction that kept the opposing linebackers in a state of sustained frustration. He was too short for basketball, but in the pole vault he took the state championship with a display of form that attracted the attention of the Olympic Committee. As his graduation neared, college athletic scouts descended en masse; he could have had a scholarship at almost any school he chose. Unfortunately he was not able to accept any of these offers; a critical situation at home complicated by a drawn-out final illness of his father forced him to abandon his plans for a higher education and go to work.

His first job after graduation was as a lifeguard. He had excelled at that, so much so that the manager of the pool where he worked had conceived the idea of featuring him in a diving exhibition every weekend as a means of attracting more patrons. After a few weeks he received an offer to join a water circus troupe in Atlantic City. The salary offered was not a great deal more than he was already making, but after the season closed, there was a possible tour of South America in the offing. That was tempting, because he had had a sustained interest in seeing the world for as long as he could remember.

Three weeks after he arrived in Atlantic City the featured high diver with the troupe was injured in an automobile accident, not seriously but badly enough so that he could not perform for at least two weeks. Walter Wagner had climbed his rigging on the day that the news had come in and had looked down at the tiny-appear-ing circle of water in the eight-foot-deep tank. Having watched the diver many times, he knew exactly how he let his body turn in the air and how he hit the water to avoid injury. Coming down the ladder to the twenty-foot level he had made a practice dive and found it easy. He dove several more times that same day from ever greater heights, but he was still far short of the tiny platform at the very top.