Pressing down, Demartin scrubbed the back of the seat again. His exposed knuckles touched something, something sharp yet instantly flexible. It was a note. He pulled it out and read it, reading beneath the bloodstains.
Urgt. MX s’c’ty. Relay contct 3016211133 S-term
The last letters drifted off as if there had been no strength left to write them. The naval officer dragged himself out of the seat and stood in the driveway studying the note, then walked up the flagstone path to his front door. He went inside, proceeded into the living room and picked up the phone; he knew whom to call. Moments later a WAVE secretary put him through to the base’s chief of intelligence.
‘Jim, it’s John Demartin—’
‘Hey, I read about that crazy episode last night. What some fly boys won’t do for a little grass… You’re taking me up on the fishing Saturday?’
‘No, I’m calling you about last night.’
‘Oh? How come?’
‘Jim, I don’t know who or what that guy was, but I don’t think he had anything to do with drugs. Then a few minutes ago I found a note creased into the seat where he was sitting. It’s kind of bloody but let me read it to you.’
‘Go ahead, I’ve got a pencil.’
The naval officer read the awkwardly printed words, letters and numbers. ‘Does it make any sense?’ he asked when he had finished.
‘It… may,’ said the intelligence chief slowly, obviously re-reading what he had written. ‘John, describe what happened last night, will you? The article in the paper was pretty sketchy.’
Demartin did so, beginning with the observation that although the blond man spoke excellent English, he had a foreign accent. He ended with the hitchhiker’s collapse in front of the fruit stand. ‘That’s it.’
‘Do you think he knew how severely he was wounded?’
‘If he didn’t, I did. I tried not to stop for the telephone but he insisted—I mean, he pleaded, Jim. Not so much in words but with his eyes… I won’t forget them for a long time.’
‘But there was no question in your mind that he was coming back to the car.’
‘None. I think he wanted to make a last call; even as he fell he reached up for the phone on the counter, but he was coming back.’
‘Stay where you are. I’ll call you right back.’
The pilot hung up and walked to a rear window overlooking the small pool and outside patio. His two children were splashing about and yelling at each other while his wife reclined in a lounge chair reading the Wall Street Journal, a practice for which he was grateful. Thanks to her, they were able to live somewhat beyond his salary. The phone rang; he returned to it. ‘Jim?’
‘Yes… John, I’ll be as clear as I can and that’s not going to be too clear. There’s a fellow here on loan to us from Washington who’s more familiar with these things than I am and this is what he wants you to do… Oh, boy.’
‘What is it? Tell me?’
‘Burn the note and forget about it.’
The CIA officer in the rumpled suit reached for the small yellow package of M&Ms, the telephone held to his left ear. ‘You got all that?’ asked Shapoff, otherwise known as Gingerbread.
‘Yes,’ replied MJ Payton, the word drawn out as if the information was both bewildering and startling.
‘The way I read it, this guy, whoever he was, combined “urgent” with “maximum security”, reckoning that if he didn’t make it this navy officer would have enough sense to call Base Security rather than the cops.’
‘Which is exactly what he did,’ agreed MJ.
‘Then Security would reach the “relay contact” and deliver the message thinking it’d be channelled to the right people.’
‘The message being that someone called code name S had been terminated.’
‘We got an operation with a code-S?’
‘No.’
‘Maybe it’s the Bureau or Treasury.’
‘I doubt it,’ said Payton.
‘Why?’
‘Because in this case the relay is the last stop. The message wouldn’t have gone any farther.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘Area code three-zero-one is Maryland, and unfortunately I recognize the number. It’s unlisted and very private.’
Payton leaned back in his chair, briefly understanding how alcoholics felt when they believed they could not get through the next hour without a drink, which meant a step away from reality. How ludicrously illogically logical! The voice heard by the ears of presidents, a man the nation’s leaders knew had the nation’s interests always in the forefront of his profound thinking, without fear, without favour, with constant objectivity… He had chosen the future. He had selected a little-known but outstanding congressman with a story to tell that would mesmerize the country. He had guided his anointed prince through the political labyrinth until the designated tyro emerged into the media sunlight, no longer a fledgling but a practitioner to be reckoned with. Then with the suddenness and audacity of a bolt of lightning, the story was told and the nation, indeed a large part of the world, was transfixed. A giant wave had been set in motion carrying the prince to a land he had never considered, a land of power, a royal house of awesome responsibility. The White House. Samuel Winters had broken the rules and, far worse, at an enormous loss of life. Mr. A had not dropped from the sky in a crisis. The blond European had worked solely for the august Samuel Winters.
The director of Special Projects picked up his phone and gently touched the numbers on his console. ‘Dr Winters,’ he said in response to the single word Yes. ‘This is Payton.’
‘It’s been a terrible day, hasn’t it, Doctor?’
‘That’s not a title I use any more. I haven’t for years.’
‘A shame. You were a fine scholar.’
‘Have you heard from Mr. A since yesterday evening?’
‘No… Although his information was tragically prophetic there’d be no reason for him to call me. As I told you, Mitchell, the man who employs him—a far more distant acquaintance than you—suggested he contact me… very much as you did. My reputation exceeds my presumed influence.’
‘Through you I saw the President,’ said Payton, closing his eyes at the old man’s lies.
‘Well, yes. The news you brought me was devastating, as was Mr. A’s. In his case I naturally thought of you. I wasn’t sure Langford or his people had the expertise that you did—’
‘I obviously didn’t have it,’ interrupted MJ.
‘I’m certain you did all you could.’
‘Back to Mr. A, Dr Winters.’
‘Yes?’
‘He’s dead.’
The gasp of breath was like an electric shock over the line. It was several seconds before Winters spoke, and when he did his voice was hollow. ‘What are you saying?’
‘He’s dead. And someone known to you as code name S has been killed.’
‘Oh, my God,’ whispered the spokesman of Inver Brass, the whisper a tremulous echo of itself. ‘How do you come by this… information?’
‘I’m afraid that’s privileged, even from you.’
‘Damn you, I gave you Jennings! The President of the United States!’
‘But you didn’t tell me why, Doctor. You never explained to me that your overriding concern—your consummate concern—was the man you had chosen. Evan Kendrick.’
‘No!’ protested Winters, as close to a scream of denial as he could manage. ‘You must not delve into such matters; they’re not your business! No laws have been broken.’
‘I’d like to think you believe that, but if you do, I’m afraid you’re terribly wrong. When you contract the talents of someone like your European, you can’t divorce yourself from his methods… As we’ve pieced it together they include political extortion through blackmail, the corruption of the legislative process, the theft of maximum classified documents and indirectly causing the death and maiming of numerous government personnel—and finally murder. Code name S was terminated,’
‘Oh, dear God…!’
‘That’s who you were playing—’
‘You don’t understand, Mitchell, that’s not the way things happened.’
‘On the contrary, it’s exactly the way they happened.’
‘I know nothing about such things, you must believe that.’
‘I do because you employed a skilled professional for results, not for giving you explanations.’
‘”Employed” is too simplistic a term! He was a dedicated man who had his own mission in life.’
‘So I was told,’ interrupted Payton. ‘He came from a country whose government had been stolen from its people.’
‘What do you think is happening here?’ said the leader of Inver Brass, his words now controlled but the depth of their meaning clear.
It was several moments before MJ replied, again with his eyes closed. ‘I know,’ he said softly. ‘We’re putting that together, too.’
‘They killed the Secretary of State and the entire delegation in Cyprus. They have no conscience, no allegiance to anything but their own ever-expanding wealth and power… I want nothing, we want nothing!’
‘I understand. You wouldn’t get it if you wanted it.’