Mickey Spillane: Survival... ZERO!

"You should have asked me," I said.

The others were all waiting, quiet and deadly, their faces full of venom, tinged with total dislike and anticipating selective revenge. Screw them too, I thought.

There weren't any introductions. The big guy with the bulging middle and the florid face simply pointed to a chair and after I looked at it long enough and decided on my own to sit down, I sat, then spun my butt into the middle of their big, beautiful mahogany company table and grinned when another one glared at me a second before picking it up and dropping it in a huge ceramic ashtray.

Everyone sat down with such deliberate motion you'd think we were about to go into a discussion of a successful bond issue. But it wasn't like that and I wasn't about to let them open the meeting. I waited until the last chair had scraped into position and said, "If you clowns think you're about to steamroller me, you'd just better start thinking straight. Nobody asked me here, nobody advised me of my rights, and right now I'd just as soon kick any or all of you on your damn tails ... including my erstwhile buddy

here ... and all you need to start the action is one little push."

"You're not under arrest, Hammer," the fat one said.

"Believe it, buddy, that I'm not. But I'm sure interested in getting that way."

When they looked at each other wondering what kind of a cat they had caught in their trap I knew I had the bull on them and I wasn't about to let go. For the first time I looked directly at Pat "I saw Eddie Dandy's show tonight myself. You've already been informed by Captain Chambers here that I was a recipient of confidential information. It was given me in way of explanation so I wouldn't do any loose talking, so I assume everyone here figures I picked up a few fast bucks by passing that information on. Okay, right now, hear this just once. It was Eddie Dandy who suggested the idea and I just made a few discreet inquiries that shook up my good pal Pat to the point where he had to fill me in on the rest." I tapped out another butt and lit it. Somebody shoved the ashtray my way. "Pat, I said nothing, you got that?"

He was still the cop. His expression didn't change an iota. "Sorry, Mike."

"Okay, forget it."

"It can't be forgotten," the fat guy said. "Do you know who we are?"

"Who the hell are you trying to kid?" I asked him. "You're all D.C. characters playing political football with something you can't handle. Now you got Eddie Dandy on your backs and can't get him off."

One of the others snapped a pencil in two and stared at me, his face tight with rage. "He'll be here to explain his part in this."

"There isn't any part, you nut. All you can do now is offer excuses or start lying. Which is it? Or do you discredit Eddie? Tell me, is it true?"

Everybody wanted to talk at once, but the fat guy at the end silenced them with one word. Then he looked down the table at me and folded his hands with all the innocence of a bear trap. "Tell me, Mr. Hammer, why are you so militant?"

"Because I don't dig you goons. You're all bureaucratic nonsense, tax happy, self-centered socialistic slobs who think the public's a game you can run for your own benefit. One day you'll realize that it's the individual who pulls the strings, not committees."

"And you're that individual?"

"I can pull more than strings, friend, that's why you got me here. Right now I'm all for going out and really sounding off about what I know. How about that?" I sat back and listened to the quiet.

Pat broke the eerie stillness. "Don't push him, Mr. Crane. The whole thing shook me for a minute, but I'd rather have him on our side."

"Protecting yourself, Captain?"

"Another remark like that and you'll be protecting yourself, Mr. Crane. I'll rap you right in the mouth."

The big man from the State Department took one look at Pat's face and the knuckles of his interlocking fingers whitened. "Captain ..."

"You'll be better off just telling him, Mr. Crane. He isn't kidding."

They could talk with their eyes, this bunch. They could just look at each other and have a conversation, hash the problem out and come to a decision. When it was made, Crane gave an almost imperceptible nod and stared at me again, his eyes cold. "Very well. I don't approve, but considering how far out on a limb we are, we'll give you the story."

"Why?" I asked.

"Simply because we can't afford to have anyone prying into this affair. After Eddie Dandy's report we'll have everyone in the news media asking questions. They don't like negative answers. They'll go directly to Dandy and we're hoping you can influence him to state that he was wrong in his premises."

"Brother!" I snubbed my butt out and sat back in my chair. "You don't know reporters very well, do you? Where is Eddie now?"

"Being briefed on the incident. He'll be here shortly."

"You better have something good to tell him. Or me."

Crane nodded. "I think we have."

"I'm listening."

"Of course you realize the confidential nature of this matter?"

"I did before," I said.

Mr. Crane managed a little of his State Department pomp and leaned back, mentally choosing his words. When he was satisfied, he said, "In 1946 a Soviet agent was planted in this country by the regime then in power with specific instructions that at a certain time, when the economic and political factors were right, to totally sabotage certain key cities through the use of biological or chemical means. His orders were irrevocable. He was given the properties to accomplish his mission, and the persons he could contact who would relay the schedule of destruction. This was a top secret project that could in no way be canceled out. This agent had one contact who, like him, was only to relay the information of when it would take place, then set in motion the machinery that would take over after the destruction finished our present system of government"

"And that gay is dead," I said.

"Very dead. Now we know the system he used. It was bacteriological. He's set everything in motion. It's a time delay affair. Unfortunately, he somehow got exposed himself and died."

I looked over at Pat. "You said it came out of our labs."

Crane didn't let him answer. "All research seems to come to the same conclusions. The strain of bacteria was similar, but not identical."

"You got troubles, Mr. Crane, haven't you? We have ICBM's, Polaris, all the new goodies stored up in silos around the country that can reach anywhere around the world, and now that you know what's on our necks we can get in there for a first strike, only you're not striking. Why?"

That caught them a little off base. Maybe they thought I couldn't figure it out. Crane gave me a perceptive brush of his eyes and said, "Because the Soviets are caught on their own horns. They don't want it either. They want it stopped right now and they're cooperating. There's a new regime in power and their entire political system has been changed in view of the Chinese situation. They can't afford to be hit from both sides. Only one of their personnel was able to hint at this development, but that was enough to get leads, process them and get the story. Do you see now why we can't afford a panic?"

"So you're buying time."

"Exactly."

Before he could answer another of the gray flannel boys came in, walked up and spoke to him. Crane nodded and said, "Bring him in."

Eddie Dandy looked like he had been wrung out in an old Maytag. Sweat had plastered his hair to his forehead, his sports jacket was rumpled and he couldn't keep his hands still at all. But his face still bore that hard stamp of the veteran newscaster with the "show me or else" look. Apparently they hadn't mentioned me to him at all and his eyes registered momentary surprise when he saw me sitting there. I waved nonchalantly and winked and I knew damn well things were beginning to add up to him.