Джон Болл - The First Team

Of course she could be made unpregnant, and perhaps that would be the thing to do, but that decision should be hers and no one else’s. The occupying authorities had put out an edict about that, but he doubted very much if anyone paid any real attention to it except to see that some additional precautions were taken.

The movement of the members of the little ex-White House party had been handled very smoothly indeed. A Helio Courier aircraft had picked them up out of an almost impossibly small field and had carried them a considerable distance at night and at very low altitude with the aid of terrain-avoidance radar. Later there had been a much faster aircraft on an unspecified kind of disguised business and then a Land Rover ride up to the mountain hideaway where Senator Solomon Fitzhugh had been housed. In that retreat there had been a blessed opportunity to bathe, to sleep, and to savor a fresh sense of freedom.

Percival did not accompany them past the point where the Courier aircraft had taken them on board. He had left them without explanations other than a very brief farewell. “I’ve got a great deal to do in a short time,” he had said. After that he had shut the cabin door and waved once at them before he had disappeared into the darkness.

Hewlitt did not know when he would be summoned for his promised meeting with the First Team, but he kept himself as prepared as he was able. He was considerably relieved when his luggage was delivered to him with almost all of the essential things that had been in his apartment. Everything had been tossed in evident great haste, but Barbara obligingly pressed a few items for him along with her own clothes and restored his confidence in his ability to make a presentable appearance. When he met the First Team, he wanted to look like the man from the White House who had faced Colonel Rostovitch and had outbluffed him, even if only for a few minutes.

When Mrs. Smith came for him, he was ready. He rode beside her in the simple car she had brought and talked with her about relatively neutral topics during the considerable ride that followed.

He noticed that she had modified her appearance somewhat; she was still very much the same person, but the chic, perfectly turned-out look that had characterized her in Washington was replaced by a far less sophisticated outward image. She had transformed herself into what appeared to be a properly dressed, well-mannered Midwestern housewife, one who had three children to care for and when she was not doing that, belonged to the church women’s club and subscribed to the Reader’s Digest. Her manner changed, too, to match her altered appearance; she was simpler in what she did and more matter-of-fact. It was Hewlitt’s judgment that she had blended herself remarkably well into the environment in which she was apparently now living and, despite the fact that she was notably attractive, she could pass all but unnoticed almost anywhere.

“We could stop for lunch,” she suggested. “I believe that it would be quite safe unless we had a particularly bad break. Or, if you prefer, we can keep going for another two hours or so.”

“How about yourself?” he asked.

“It’s immaterial to me.”

“Then I suggest that we go on. I’m in favor of avoiding any risk that it isn’t essential to take.”

She drove on; Hewlitt looked at her profile and wondered whether or not she had been testing him with that bit of business. If she had wanted to stop to eat, she would have known the proper place and would have pulled in without consulting him.

It was close to three in the afternoon when they turned off onto a side road and were out of sight of the highway in a matter of a minute or two. Hewlitt rode on, awaiting what lay before him. When they reached the boarded-up entrance to an old mine shaft, he was slightly surprised to find a hunter with a gun who took over the car without comment as soon as they had gotten out. The man drove away farther into the mountains and they were alone, appar-endy in the midst of desolation.

He knew better very shortly thereafter. As soon as they were both inside Mrs. Smith dropped her provincial manner and became what could have been a highly efficient executive secretary. “You are expected, of course, Mr. Hewlitt,” she told him, “but we have an operation under way right now and your interview may be delayed for a little while. I believe that all I need to tell you is that anyone you meet here you may and should talk to freely and with total candor.”

“I understand,” Hewlitt said. “This is the headquarters, I take it.”

“Yes, it is, and the knowledge of its location is one of the most vital secrets we have.”

“I understand,” he told her. “You can rely on me.”

She gave him the fraction of a smile. “If we had not been totally convinced of that, you would be in Canada right now.”

With that she left him and he was alone for perhaps half an hour. Then a man came into the room who at first glance seemed to be, like Percival, a trim but otherwise undistinguishable individual. Then he noticed that part of one of his hands was missing. That meant an industrial accident or possibly a combat injury; Hewlitt cataloged the fact away in his mind and waited for what the man had to say.

He came to the point without formalities. “Mr. Hewlitt, my name is Pappas. I’d like to talk to you about several things if you don’t mind.”

“Certainly.”

“I understand^ that you had an interview with Colonel Rostovitch.”

“Yes, sir, I did.”

“And after you talked to him, you returned to your desk briefly and then left the White House in Miss Stoneham’s company.” “That’s right.”

“Did Colonel Rostovitch accuse you of being a member of the underground?”

“Yes, his exact words to me were, ‘You are an agent; as soon as I finish with you, you will be taken out and shot.’ ”

“You have a good memory, Mr. Hewlitt.”

“Thank you; it’s an asset that’s helpful at times.”

“I believe that. However, you were not shot.”

“Fortunately, no.”

“Colonel Rostovitch is not noted for relenting on promises of that kind. I would be very interested to know what you said or did to cause him to change his mind.”

Hewlitt didn’t know who this man was, but the manner in which he spoke implied authority — not forcefully, but in a very quiet practical way that suggested maximum capability. “The answer I believe is Amy Thornbush,” Hewlitt said.

“Who is she?”

“I don’t believe that she is anyone,” he replied. “The first time that I talked to Mr. Zalinsky he asked me if I knew Amy Thornbush. I remembered the name. Later it was mentioned to me once more. Since I was certain that I had not met any such person, I considered it possible that it was some sort of a code.”

“Please go on.”

“When I met Colonel Rostovitch he said to me very positively, ‘You have been sleeping with Amy Thornbush.’ That narrowed the field immediately — either it meant Barbara Stoneham or it was a recognition signal. At least those were all the possibilities that occurred to me at that moment.”

“There were no other young ladies who had favored you?”

“Yes, there were, but the colonel’s method of speaking implied a steadily continuing relationship, and there was no one else who would come under that category.”

“That’s all you had to go on.”

“Yes, sir, at that moment.”

“What did you do?”

“I gambled; I had to. There was a possibility, of course, that Barbara Stoneham was also known by another name, but since the colonel was aware that I knew her as Barbara, he wouldn’t logically have thrown the other name up to me if he had had her in mind.”

“You reasoned that out.”