the north country, and wipe out every Haganah fanatic in the hills. Those
I don’t kill, I’ll expose…. Put on your coats and get out of here. Take
a room at the Alvear under the name of … Pace. E. Pace. I’ll be in
touch.’
‘Our weaponsT asked Feld, pulling his light grey overcoat over his
shoulders.
‘I’ll keep them. I’m sure you can afford others…. And don’t wait for us
outside. There’s an FMF vehicle cruising for me.’
‘What about “Tortugas”T Asher Feld was pleading.
‘I said I’ll be in touch!’ shouted Spaulding. ‘Now, get out of here! …
Pick up the Hawkwood girl; she’s around the comer in the Renault. Here are
the keys.’ David reached in his pocket and threw the keys to Asher Feld’s
companion, who caught them effortlessly. ‘Send her back to California.
Tonight, if you can. No later than tomorrow morning. Is that clear?’
‘Yes…. You will be in touchT
‘Get out of here,’ said Spaulding in exhaustion.
The two Haganah agents rose from their chairs, the younger
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going to the unconscious third man and lifting him off the floor, onto his
shoulders. Asher Feld stood in the front hallway and turned, his gaze
resting momentarily on the dead bodies, then over to Spaulding.
‘You and 1. We must deal in priorities…. The man from Lisbon is an
extraordinary man.’ He turned to the door and held it open as his companion
carried out the third man. He went outside, closing the door behind him.
David turned to Lyons. ‘Get the designs.’
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37
When the assault on 15 Terraza Verde had begun, Eugene Lyons had done a
remarkable thing. It was so simple it had a certain cleanliness to it,
thought Spaulding. He had taken the metal container with the designs, opened
his bedroom window and dropped the case five feet below into the row of
tiger lilies that grew along the side of the house. The window shut, he had
then run into his bathroom and locked the door.
All things considered – the shock, the panic, his own acknowledged
incapacities – he had taken the least expected action: he had kept his
head. He had removed the container, not tried to conceal it; he had
transferred it to an accessible place, and that was not to be anticipated
by the fanatic men who dealt in complicated tactics and convoluted deceits.
David followed Lyons out of the house through the kitchen door and around
to the side. He took the container from the physicist’s trembling hands and
helped the near-helpless man over the small fence separating the adjacent
property. Together they ran behind the next two houses and cautiously edged
their way toward the street. Spaulding kept his left hand extended,
gripping Lyons’s shoulder, holding him against the wall, prepared to throw
him to the ground at the first hint of hostilities.
Yet David was not really expecting hostilities; he was convinced the
Haganah had eliminated whatever Rhinemarm guards were posted in front, for
the obvious reason that Asher Feld had
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left by the front door. What he did think was possible was a last-extren-dty
attempt by Asher Feld to get the designs. Or the sudden emergence of a
Rhinemann vehicle from some near location – a vehicle whose occupants were
unable to raise a radio signal from 15 Terraza Verde.
Each possible; neither really expected.
It was too late and too soon.
What David profoundly hoped he would find, however, was a blue-green sedan
cruising slowly around the streets. A car with small orange insignias on
the bumpers that designated the vehicle as U.S. property. Ballard’s
‘playground attendants’; the men from the FMF base.
It wasn’t cruising. It was stationary, on the far side of the street, its
parking lights on. Three men inside were smoking cigarettes, the glows
illuminating the interior. He turned to Lyons.
‘Let’s go. Walk slowly, casually. The car’s over there.’
The driver and the man next to him got out of the automobile the moment
Spaulding and Lyons reached the curb. They stood awkwardly by the hood,
dressed in civilian clothes. David crossed the street, addressing them.
‘Get in that goddamned car and get us out of here! And while you’re at it,
why don’t you paint bull’s-eyes all over the vehicle? You wouldn’t be any
more of a target than you are now!’
‘Take it easy, buddy,’ replied the driver. ‘We just got here.’ He opened
the rear door as Spaulding helped Lyons inside.
‘You were supposed to be cruising, not parked like watchdogs!’David climbed
in beside Lyons; the man at the far window squeezed over. The driver got
behind the wheel, closed his door and started the engine. The third man
remained outside. ‘Get him in here!’ barked Spaulding.
‘He’ll remain where he is, colonel,’ said the man in the back seat next to
Lyons. ‘He stays here.’
‘Who the hell are youT
‘Colonel Daniel Meehan, Fleet Marine Force, Naval Intelligence. And we want
to know what the fuck’s going on.’
The car started up.
‘You have no control over this exercise,’ said David slowly, deliberately.
‘And I don’t have time for bruised egos. Get us to the embassy, please.’
‘Screw egos! We’d like a little simple clarification I You know
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what the hell is going on down in our section of town? This side trip to
Telmo’s just a minor inconvenience I I wouldn’t be here except your
goddamned name was mentioned by that smart-ass cryp! … Jesus!’
Spaulding leaned forward on the seat, staring at Meehan. ‘You’d better tell
me what’s going on in your section of town. And why my name gets you to
Telmo.’
The marine returned the look, glancing once – with obvious distaste – at
the ashen Lyons. ‘Why not? Your friend cleared?’
‘He is now. No one more so.’
‘We have three cruisers patrolling the Buenos Aires coastal zone plus a
destroyer and a carrier somewhere’s out there.
Five hours ago we get a blue alert: prepare for a radio-radar ~1*ackout,
all sea and aircraft to hold to, no movement. Forty-five minutes later
there’s a scrambler from Fairfax, source four-zero. Intercept one Colonel
David Spaulding, also four-zero. He’s to make contact pronto.’
‘With FairfaxT
‘Only with Fairfax…. So we send a man to your address on C6rdoba. He
doesn’t find you but he does find a weird son of a bitch tearing up your
place. He tries to take him and gets laid out…. He gets back to us a
couple of hours later with creases in his head and guess who calls? Right
on an open-line telephonel’
‘Ballard,’ answered David quietly. ‘The embassy cryp.’
‘The smart-ass 1 He makes jokes and tells us to play games out at Telmo I
Wait for you to decide to show.’ The marine colonel shook his head in
disgust.
‘You said the blue alert was preparation for radar silence
. and radio.’
‘And all ships and planes immobilized,’ interrupted Meehan. ‘What the
hell’s coming in here? The whole goddamned General Staff’? Roosevelt?
Churchill? Rin-tin-tin? And what are we? The enemy I I
‘It’s not what’s coming in, colonel,’ said David softly. ‘It9s what’s going
out…. What’s the time of activationT
‘It’s damn loose. Anytime during the next forty-eight hours. How’s that for
a tight scheduleT
‘Who’s my contact in Virginia?’
‘Oh…. Here.’ Meehan shifted in his seat, proffering a sealed yellow
envelope that was the mark of a scrambled message.
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David reached across Lyons and took it.
There was the crackling static of a radio from the front seat followed by
the single word ‘Redbird!’ out of the speaker. The driver quickly picked up
the dashboard microphone.
‘Redbird acknowledge,’ said the marine.
The static continued but the words were clear. ‘The Spaulding intercept.
Pick him up and bring him in. Four-zero orders from Fairfax. No contact
with the embassy.’
‘You heard the man,’laughed Meehan. ‘No embassy tonight, colonel.’
David was stunned. He started to object – angrily, furiously; then he
stopped…. Fairfax. No Nazi, but Haganah. Asher Feld had said it. The
Provisional Wing dealt in practicalities. And the most practical objective
during the next forty-eight hours was to immobilize the man with the codes.
Washington would not activate a radio-radar blackout without them; and an
enemy submarine surfacing to rendezvous with a trawler would be picked up
on the screens and blown out of the water. The Koening diamonds – the
Peenerniffide tools – would be sent to the bottom of the South Atlantic.
Christ I The irony, thought David. Fairfax – sonteone at Fairfax – was
doing precisely what should be done, motivated by concerns Washington – and
the aircraft companies – refused to acknowledge! It – they – had other
concerns: three-quarters of them were at Spaulding’s feet. High-altitude
gyroscopic designs.
David pressed his arm into Lyons’s shoulder. The emaciated scientist
continued to stare straight ahead but responded to Spaulding’s touch with
a hesitant nudge of his left elbow.
David shook his head and sighed audibly. He held up the yellow envelope and