George Chesbro - Two Songs This Archangel Sings

"I know," I ventured at last. "I just don't look like a spy. That's why I'm so good at it; people don't take me seriously. Garth is the one who looks like a spy, and that's always been a problem. I insisted that the Russians hire him, too, as kind of a package deal. He needed the money."

"You think this is a joke?" the trooper asked in a low voice that was surprisingly lilting. His nameplate said McGarvey. Irish.

"I think the idea of Garth and me being spies is a joke."

"I take you very seriously, Frederickson. I won't bullshit you if you don't bullshit me."

"Somebody's already bullshitting you, Captain, and it isn't me."

"What the hell's going on?"

"Didn't my brother tell you?" I asked with more than passing interest.

"You tell me. What happened up in those mountains? We found seven corpses up there; one was really just a pile of burned bones.

Six of those men were dressed in uniforms and armed to the teeth; they'd all had their throats slashed and their right thumbs severed. It also looks like somebody was dropping firebombs from a plane; I've seen burn patterns like that before, in Viet Nam. It looked like a Goddamn war zone up there."

It appeared that Garth hadn't told the man anything, which didn't surprise me. "That's because there was a war, Captain."

"Will you tell me what's going on, Frederickson?"

"I'm the one who should ask you that. Your men said that Garth and I are wanted on espionage charges. Somebody's pulling your chain, not to mention a lot of strings. I think you know that, or at least suspect it strongly."

"Nobody pulls my chain, Frederickson," McGarvey said evenly. "Maybe that's why I'm sitting here asking you to tell me what's going on."

"I think I hear what you're saying. But I notice that you didn't say anything about strings. If you'd done even an itty-bitty check on Garth and me before your men jumped our asses, you'd have known that the charges were ridiculous-maybe something dreamed up on the spur of the moment by somebody in a panic and very desperate to get us locked up where he can get at us. The New York State Police are being used as baby-sitters, and that's what this is all about. In fact, I might even venture a wild guess that you were pointedly requested not to interrogate us. How am I doing, Captain? Do I win a prize?"

McGarvey's heavy eyebrows raised slightly. "Like I said, Frederickson, nobody pulls my chain. But now you're trying to; you still haven't told me anything."

"I'm working on it."

"Work harder."

"What person or government agency asked you to pick us up? F.B.I.? I mean, the charges against us would fall into their jurisdiction, right?"

"I'll ask the questions, Frederickson," McGarvey replied dryly. "You may be the smaller of the Frederickson brothers, but you've certainly got the biggest mouth and smoothest tongue."

"Garth gets disgusted easily, Captain. When he gets disgusted, he either takes a swing at you or gives you the silent treatment. I'm more patient."

The captain's response was both unexpected and disturbing. "Your brother's a dangerous man, Frederickson," he said in an odd tone of voice.

"Indeed," I replied, feeling uneasy. The expression on the other man's face was one of genuine concern, and I wasn't sure I liked that.

"I don't think you understand what I mean. He's not living on the edge; he's hanging over it by his fingertips. I've seen men in that condition before. He's going to explode one of these days, maybe when you least expect it."

"Is this knock-the-brother business some new kind of interrogation technique?"

"No. It's an observation. He has a drug pallor, you know. Is he on anything?"

"Garth doesn't even do aspirin."

"Well, my suggestion is that you two get this business behind you as quickly as you can. In my opinion, he needs professional help-and quickly."

"What did he say to you?" I asked, feeling genuinely alarmed, yet not certain that I wasn't being manipulated. Captain McGarvey knew his business; he could play both good guy and bad guy at the same time.

"It's not what he said; it's the way he looks."

"Garth's just cranky this morning," I said, trying to get my mind off Garth and back to the business at hand. "Being shot at and having napalm dropped on your head does that to some people; it puts them off their feed."

"He's very protective of you."

"Yeah, well, I'm his brother and he doesn't like it when people shoot at me and drop napalm on my head, either."

"Who shot at you and dropped the napalm?"

"Just maybe the same people who called you and asked that we be picked up. I'm sure it's occurred to you that there just might be a very direct connection. What about it, Captain? Does that give you pause?"

The answer was clearly yes. McGarvey was silent for some time, and then he abruptly reached over and turned off the tape recorder. A few things might be bothering Garth, but something was also bothering this New York State trooper a great deal. He obviously smelled a whole barrelful of dead fish-but then, it wouldn't take a genius to do that. What McGarvey also smelled was tremendous power, power to, at the least, destroy his career; despite his confident, almost defiant, demeanor, the smell of that power had to frighten him. He had pride in his person and his job, but-exactly like Garth and me-he had to be wondering what kinds of wheels were furiously turning in Washington and how he was going to avoid being crushed under them.

"I'd heard of you a long time before this, Frederickson," McGarvey said at last. "And I've done my own checking on the report I got."

"What report?"

"I told you I'll ask the questions."

"We're not very likely spies, are we?"

"You still haven't told me what happened up in the mountains."

"I'm not sure you want to know," I said carefully.

"Why not?"

"Because then the same people who want Garth and me dead might want to kill you. Remember that you didn't get a request to pick us up until after the bullets and napalm had missed."

McGarvey rewarded me with a brief nod of his head. "An interesting observation, Frederickson, and it's noted," he said in a flat voice. "But you let me worry about my safety."

"Captain, let us ponder this problem together. Why don't you tell me what government agency told you that we're wanted on espionage charges?"

"Frederickson, why do you want to play games with me?"

"Is that what I'm doing? Maybe I just want the two of us to reach some unpleasant conclusions together. And whatever happened to the Miranda rule? Aren't Garth and I entitled to the services of a lawyer?"

"We have a right to hold you for forty-eight hours; this is a special case. Do you want a lawyer?"

"It's a moot question. There's no way Garth and I are going to be allowed to talk to a lawyer, and you know it."

"If you're innocent, it's in your interests to talk to me, Frederickson."

"Okay, let me ponder the problem by myself. First, let me assure you that Garth and I are perfectly happy to be sitting here in your lockup. We're a hell of a lot safer here than we would be out on the streets. In fact, I'm surprised that we're still here; I wouldn't be surprised to find out that you're stepping on some very big toes right now, because you were under pressure to turn us over to the other interested party yesterday, right after you arrested us. Am I right?"

Captain McGarvey said nothing, but the trooper's face now revealed a great deal; he was a commanding officer who feared that his organization and men were being used, and didn't like it.

"Now I think we may be getting somewhere," I continued quietly. "Captain, if you had turned us over, Garth and I would be dead right now. Up to this point, we probably owe you our lives. If I'm right, you were perfectly willing to cooperate fully with the people who called you-except for one thing. You didn't believe the story they told you, and that stuck in your craw. There were too many unanswered questions, and you figured that the New York State Police have a right to know what's going on in their own state-especially when it involves firebombing in the Catskills and seven dead men. That's really what this interrogation is all about, isn't it? It's personal."