Джон Болл - The First Team

And when he had had Nat phone that clown Zalinsky in Washington, because it was high time that Marc Orberg was recognized and rewarded for what he had done, the self-centered fool had had the nerve to refuse to see him.

If he had had anything that he could have smashed, he would have seized it and beaten it against the wall.

Then a forgotten memory flashed into his brain. He had promised, long before any of the invaders had set foot on American soil, that he would be the first to welcome them. Since then, he knew, thousands of them had come and he hadn’t met a one of them.

All right, it was something to do. He would make a big deal out of it somehow, and get some publicity. Pictures on the front page of him shaking hands with the commander, if there was one. All he had to do was to find the right time and place and then have Nat let the press know.

Going to meet a plane at an airport would be no good, flights had been coming in all the time for weeks.

Then he had an idea: there had been something in the papers about clearing a stretch of the Maryland east shore. Enemy amphibious forces were coming in and they were going to hit the beach in classic style. There would be a lot of action during the exercise, thousands of men and a major commander of one kind or another, and he, Marc Orberg, would welcome them! The news media would all be there and millions of Americans would hate the very idea of the unopposed enemy landing. He could ride into town in the commander’s vehicle and shove it right down their throats.

He liked that, he liked it a lot. The idea grew and expanded in his mind until it gave birth to another. When that happened he found release at last from his blinding frustration and the acid anger that was consuming him. With his fame and prestige they would be damn glad to get him — as an active partner in the new government!

Hewlitt could hardly contain himself as Frank pulled his cab away from the West Entrance to the White House and entered the flow of home-going traffic. He sat silently, knowing that he had to, and waited to see if the enforced restraint of the past two days was to continue, but impatience burned within him.

“Did your girl friend put out yet?” Frank asked.

Relief flooded through Hewlitt. “If she doesn’t pretty quick I’m going to get a new girl friend,” he answered. “Have they had you wired?”

“I think so; I picked up some fellows following me and I didn’t like the looks of it. Davy went over the car and found something. He didn’t tell me the details. Anyhow, I think you’re under investigation.”

“How about yourself?”

Frank waited until he had emerged from closely packed traffic. “All right, I think. This morning the thing was gone from the car, so I’m thinkin’ that it was sort of routine, general snooping around.”

“Davy was sure?”

“You better believe it, and he’s a good boy. I told you that.”

“I believe it; right now I’m trusting my neck to him. Frank, I’ve got something: you were right about Captain Scott, I think I can prove it.”

“Let’s have it.”

“When Bob Landers was shot Scott saw Zalinsky and got permission to bury the body — remember?”

“That’s right.”

“I didn’t wake up to it until you slipped me that note in a fortune cookie, but normally Zalinsky doesn’t see anybody; he turned down Fitzhugh and a lot of others who are pretty important. But Scott walked right in, and he’s only a captain. And he got a concession on the first try. It doesn’t add up.”

“Now there you really got somethin’, my boss will like that! He tol’ me that Scott might be all right, but maybe not. I’ll get this to him right away before anybody else can get trapped. Anything more?”

“Yes, Fitzhugh wrote Zalinsky’s boss — the premier himself — and offered to negotiate as peacemaker for this country. I haven’t seen the letter, but I don’t need to. Zalinsky sent me to tell Fitzhugh to forget it and to pick up his marbles. The senator took it hard; he thought that he was going to emerge as the savior of the country.”

“Not likely, not him.”

“The Brown hearings are off, which isn’t too surprising. Brown himself is claiming that the Ravirod was O.K. and that the Air Force didn’t know how to fly it.”

“Horseshit,” Frank said. “Now listen, this is important — you ready?”

“Shoot.”

“We’re goin’ to start movin’, you included. I get the word that somethin’ big is shaping up.”

“I’m damn glad to hear it.”

Frank stopped for a light and the conversation remained suspended until they were in motion once more. “I don’t know anythin’ about what it is, but it ought to be pretty good. Now this is orders: you tell Barbara that she’s to move into Davy’s house. An’ she’s to tell Mary to do the same thing. Just as soon as they can work it to make it look right.”

“Frank, how can that look right? They’re both pretty high-class government girls. They just wouldn’t do that!”

“That’ll be taken care of, you just pass on the orders. Remember that I tol’ you we were going to make Davy’s place into a real nice whorehouse. Not for real, of course, but it’s goin’ to look that way.” “I still can’t buy it.”

“You will, when you see how it works out. Has Cedric Culp been playing up to Mary like I said?”

“Yes, but not too much. He’s married, remember.”

“I know, but he could be playing around a little. It’s been known to happen.”

“Hell, yes.”

“Now we’re goin’ to be showing some stag movies at the house tonight and you’re to come, got it?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll pick you up about eight-thirty. You’ll find out more after you get there.”

As Hewlitt let himself into his apartment he reflected that the stag movies were a good gag — it would account for his presence in a questionable neighborhood and his associating with a cab driver if that fact ever came to light. And because of the prudishness of his own country, Zalinsky would believe it. Whether the invisible but deadly Colonel Rostovitch would was another question.

A few minutes after eight Hewlitt put on a turtle-necked sweater, a pair of dark slacks, and the most inconspicuous jacket that he owned. He exchanged the leather shoes he had worn all day for a softer suede pair with rubber soles and then slipped a few extra dollars into his wallet. He did not know what lay ahead for the evening, but he knew that he was not going to be wasting time watching stag films.

When he went outside at eight-twenty-five Frank was just pulling up. Hewlitt got in without making the mistake of looking around first.

As soon as they were under way Frank inquired about his girl friend and then provided some news. “You’re goin’ to meet my boss tonight. He was mighty pleased with that idea of yours about Scott. He wants to talk to you directly. He is a sharp boy; you’ll find that out.”

“Has he a code name?”

“Yes, it’s Percival — not Percy; remember that.”

“And you absolutely vouch for him.”

“Hew, if he ain’t straight, you can forget about the whole thing.”

“Have you any idea what’s on the program for tonight?”

“Not too much. I think it has to do with Scott, but I don’t know for sure. Anyhow, there’s more goin’ on now and maybe Percival will have some things to tell you.”

A half hour latej, Frank pulled the cab into an unpaved driveway next to the house. A battered service truck parked at the end carried a legend for Jones’ TV Service. Frank pulled up behind it and pointed toward a side door which badly needed painting. When they opened it to go inside, Hewlitt noticed that despite its weatherbeaten appearance it swung silently on its hinges.