Briggs had his own opinions on this point, based on recent experience, but he kept still about them. Bonn went on, “The Secretary has been after me steadily to let him know when the originals were secured. He has been quite insistent, quite critical. When you called in, I told him that the films were safe and that he would have them in a few minutes.”
“Well?”
“Don’t you see, you fool — he gave the order at once to destroy the other copies.” Briggs whistled. “Jumped the gun, didn’t he?”
“That’s not the way he’ll figure it — mind you, the President was pressuring him. He’ll say that I jumped the gun.”
“And so you did.”
“No, you jumped the gun. You told me the films were in that box.” “Hardly. I said I had sent them there.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Get out the tape and play it back.”
“There is no tape — by the President’s own order no records are kept on this operation.”
“So? Then why are you recording now?”
“Because,” Bonn answered sharply, “some one is going to pay for this and it is not going to be me.”
“Meaning,” Briggs said slowly, “that it is going to be me.”
“I didn’t say that. It might be the Secretary.”
“If his head rolls, so will yours. No, both of you are figuring on using me. Before you plan on that, hadn’t you better hear my report? It might affect your plans. I’ve got news for you, boss.”
Bonn drummed the desk. “Go ahead. It had better be good.”
In a passionless monotone Briggs recited all events as recorded by sharp memory from receipt of the films on the Moon to the present moment. Bonn listened impatiently.
Finished, Briggs waited. Bonn got up and strode around the room. Finally he stopped and said. “Briggs, I never heard such a fantastic pack of lies in my life. A fat man who plays cards! A wallet that wasn’t your wallet — your clothes stolen! And Mrs. Keithley — Mrs. Keithley! Don’t you know that she is one of the strongest supporters of the Administration?”
Briggs said nothing. Bonn went on, “Now I’ll tell you what actually did happen. Up to the time you grounded at Pied-a-Terre your report is correct, but — ”
“How do you know?”
“Because you were covered, naturally. You don’t think I would trust this to one man, do you?”
“Why didn’t you tell me? I could have hollered for help and saved all this.”
Bonn brushed it aside. “You engaged a runner, dismissed him, went in that drugstore, came out and went to the post office. There was no fight in the concourse for the simple reason that no one was following you. At the post office you mailed three tubes, one of which may or may not have contained the films. You went from there to the New Age hotel, left it twenty minutes later and caught the transrocket for Cape Town. You — ”
“Just a moment,” objected Briggs. “How could I have done that and still be here now?”
“Eh?” For a moment Bonn seemed stumped. “That’s just a detail; you were positively identified. For that matter, it would have been a far, fair better thing for you if you had stayed on that rocket. In fact — ” The bureau chief got a far-away look in his eyes. ” — you’ll be better off for the time being if we assume officially that you did stay on that rocket. You are in a bad spot, Briggs, a very bad spot. You did not muff this assignment — you sold out!” Briggs looked at him levelly. “You are preferring charges?”
“Not just now. That is why it is best to assume that you stayed on that rocket — until matters settle down, clarify.”
Briggs did not need a graph to show him what solution would come out when “matters clarified.” He took from a pocket a memo pad, scribbled on it briefly, and handed it to Bonn.
It read: “I resign my appointment effective immediately.” He had added signature, thumbprint, date, and hour.
“So long, boss,” he added. He turned slightly, as if to go.