Джон Болл - The First Team

There was a smaller group in the living room this time although the same volunteer bartender was on duty. “How about a drink?” Frank asked.

“I could go for a bourbon and water.”

When Frank came back from the bar with two drinks Hewlitt looked around and asked, “Do you know who that Chinese fellow is?”

“You oughta know him,” Frank answered. “He works in the restaurant where you ate with Scott.”

Memory focused then and he recognized the quiet-mannered headwaiter. “I figured that you’d tumble to that,” Frank continued, “when you got that fixed-up fortune cookie.”

He hadn’t tumbled and it bit into his confidence. “Is he your boss?” he asked.

“No, but he’s a real good man. He thought up the fortune cookie trick and fixed the slip. And he got a good tape of your talk with Scott.”

Hewlitt looked at him. “That place is bugged?”

Frank tasted his drink. “Sure, but this time we’re doing it. Like I told you, this is no kid setup.”

As he was speaking the bartender set up a small table and then loaded it with an eight-millimeter projector and five rolls of film. As someone else set up a screen he threaded the machine and adjusted the focus. “O.K., you guys?” he asked.

For answer the man nearest the door turned off the light switch. A hazy cone of light crossed the room from the projector to the screen and a not too clear image appeared. In what was obviously a motel room a man and a girl began to embrace while they were seated on a small davenport.

“All right, let’s go,” Frank said. He opened the rear door of the room and waited until Hewlitt had followed him into the narrow corridor. “Sorry you’ll have to miss the show,” he added, “but you know the plot anyway.”

He led the way upstairs and then back to a rear room where he paused and knocked.

The man who opened the door was an even six feet tall, of narrow athletic build, and had on a suit which was trimly cut to his figure. He wore his hair in a near crew cut which suggested at once a military officer or a highly skilled technician accustomed to an active life. “Come in, gentlemen,” he invited.

Frank performed the introduction. “This is Raleigh Hewlitt. Hew, this is Percival.”

The man called Percival offered Hewlitt a hand that had steel in its fingers, then motioned toward two chairs which helped to fill what was essentially a sparse office. He sat down himself behind a simple desk with the manner of a man who knows precisely what he is about. Hewlitt estimated his age as between thirty-five and forty, but sensed at the same time that he could be wrong in either direction. Also he noted that there were no distinguishing characteristics in the man’s features, they were normal and regular and that was all.

“Hew, I hope that you’ll excuse me if I don’t give you my name at this point,” he said. “That isn’t because of any lack of confidence in you; it’s the way we have things set up.”

“That’s all right,” Hewlitt answered.

“I’ve been authorized to give you some information,” Percival continued. “I believe that Bob Landers told you that this organization was set up quite a while before we got into the late war; the President read the handwriting on the wall and prepared for what might happen. And did. You know which President I mean.”

“Yes, sir.”

Percival pulled out a drawer and stretched his legs across the top, tipping back in his chair as he did so. “Contrary to some press reports you might have seen, we had, and still have, a pretty competent intelligence organization going for us. Through it we got some very clear indications about what was coming, but the temper of the times — the public mood all across the country — made things difficult. The Orberg decision didn’t help us, and there were other problems.”

“Fitzhugh, for example.”

“Exactly. He didn’t consciously try to wreck things the way that Orberg and Wattles did, among others, but he’s been a damn nuisance.”

“Do you want me to leave you two guys alone?” Frank interrupted.

Percival gave him a half gesture. “I’d rather you’d stay; some of this may concern you.”

Frank nodded his compliance and lapsed back into silence.

“By the way,” Percival said. “I understand that you had a meeting with Fitzhugh the other day.”

“I did. He thought he was going to negotiate for us and save the country.”

“A little late for that, as far as he’s concerned.” He laid his arms on the desk. “Getting back to cases, we’ve been keeping a file on you for some time, largely because of your language capability. We thought of using you to translate intercepted messages and other material that we might get our hands on. All of the reports that we have had on you have been good, particularly as regards your ability to keep your mouth shut.”

“There isn’t any choice about that,” Hewlitt said.

Percival nodded his approval. “Glad that you see it that way. We had thought of pulling you into our headquarters, but as things have worked out, we want to leave you where you are for the time being. You seem to have established a certain rapport with Zalinsky that could be vitally important at the right time.”

“That’s all right with me,” Hewlitt said once more, “but in a way, I’m disappointed. I’d like a little more action if that’s possible.” Percival looked at him quite sharply for a moment, as though he were making a re-evaluation. “Before this is all over, I suspect that you’ll get all the action you want. We have certain operations planned which you will know about quite soon.”

Hewlitt leaned forward. “Where do I fit in?” he asked.

Percival rested his arms on the top of the desk and became thoroughly practical. “You know Captain Scott of the Air Force. We’ve had a tip-off that, for reasons unknown, he may be the person who betrayed Bob Landers — but it isn’t definite. We’ve been watching him very closely. Frank here knows about that. When you came up with the fact that Zalinsky saw him on short notice, that was an important piece of information that we had missed. We want to move fast on this before he can do any more damage, if he is the person we want. I listened to the tape of your dinner conversation with him; there is no doubt that he was probing you for a possible entrance into the underground.”

“He had me believing him,” Hewlitt said.

“Remember — he may still be absolutely O.K.”

“I hope that he is,” Hewlitt admitted. “But if he is our man, then why did he blow the whistle on Bob Landers so fast? That couldn’t help but hurt him in what he was trying to do.”

Percival raised one forearm and pointed upward as though he were addressing a classroom. “Suppose it was the other way around. It is very possible that Bob got onto him. In that case, if Scott detected it, he would want to get rid of Bob posthaste in order to protect himself. And he could get cooperation from Zalinsky.” Hewlitt thought. “It’s entirely possible, but very hard to believe. Scott seems to be so much a totally right kind of person. Also, what reason would he have to betray his country?”

Percival did not comment on that. “To get the answers to some of these questions, I had it in mind to use you — that is, if you want to come to the party. We can keep you pretty well covered and, if you’re really interested, it would be a chance to get a little field experience. But there is a very real element of risk and in your case it could be accentuated — you can see why.”

“What do you want me to do?” Hewlitt asked.

Percival studied him for a moment before he spoke. “We are up against a man who calls himself Colonel Rostovitch; he’s a modern-day Beria who heads up the enemy secret police. That’s a good old Balkan term for any kind of a suppressive force. Rostovitch is a terror, and he’s here now — ostensibly headquartered at what used to be their embassy. But he has other operating bases; one of them is a house something like this one which they have had for some time; we only got on to it a short while ago.