I wondered what answer he was fishing for. “Not good,” I conceded. “Everybody watching everybody else. Might as well be behind the Curtain. Shucks,” I admitted, going overboard, “this is worse. You can usually bribe a communist, but what bribe can you offer a slug?”
“Hmm—” he commented. “That’s an interesting thought. What would constitute a bribe inducement to a titan?”
“Look, that was a rhetorical question. I—”
“And my restatement of it was not rhetorical; we’ll farm it out for theoretical investigation.”
“Grabbing at straws these days, aren’t you?”
“Precisely. Now about the rest of your comment; would you say that it was easier to penetrate and maintain surveillance in the Soviet Union or in Zone Red. Which would you rather tackle?”
I eyed him suspiciously. “There’s a catch in this. You don’t let a man pick his assignment.”
“I asked you for a professional opinion.”
“Mmmm . . . I don’t have enough data. Tell me; are there slugs behind the Curtain?”
“That,” he answered, “is just what I would like to find out.”
I realized suddenly that Mary had been right; agents should not marry. If this job were ever finished, I wanted to hire out to count sheep for a rich insomniac or, something equally soft. “This time of year,” I said, “I think I’d want to enter through Canton. Unless you were figuring on a drop?”
“What makes you think I want you to go into the USSR?” he asked. “We might find out what we want to know quicker and easier in Zone Red.”
“Huh?”
“Certainly. If there is infection anywhere but in this continent, the titans in Zone Red must know about it. Why go half around the globe to find out?”
I put aside the plans I had been forming to be a Hindu merchant, travelling with his wife, and thought about what he was saying. Could be . . . could be. “How in the devil can Zone Red be penetrated now?” I asked. “Do I wear a plastic imitation slug on my shoulder blades? They’d catch me the first time I was called on for direct conference. Or before.”
“Don’t be a defeatist. Four agents have gone in already.”
“And come back?”
“Well, no, not exactly. That’s the rub.”
“And you want me to be the fifth? Have you decided that I’ve cluttered up the payroll long enough?”
“I think the others used the wrong tactics—”
“Obviously!”
“The trick is to convince them that you are a renegade. Got any ideas?”
The idea was overwhelming, so much so that I did not answer at once. Finally I burst out, “Why not start me easy? Can’t I impersonate a Panama pimp for a while? Or practice being an ax murderer? I have to get into the mood for this.”
“Easy,” he said. “It may not be practical—”
“Hmmph!”
“But you might bring it off. You’ve had more experience with their ways than any agent I’ve got. You must be rested up, aside from that little singe you got on your fingers. Or maybe we should drop you near Moscow and let you take a direct look. Think it over. Don’t get into a fret about it for maybe another day.”
“Thanks. Thank you too much.” I changed the subject. “What have you got planned for Mary?”
“Why don’t you stick to your own business?”
“I’m married to her.”
“Yes.”
“Well, for the love of Pete! Is that all you’ve got to say? Don’t you even want to wish me luck?”
“It strikes me,” he said slowly, “that you have had all the luck one man could ask for. You have my blessing, for whatever it’s worth.”
“Oh. Well, thanks.” I am slow in some ways, but I plead the excuse that I had had much on my mind—up to that moment it had not occurred to me that the Old Man might have had something directly to do with Mary’s leave and mine falling together so conveniently. I said, “Look here. Dad—”
“Huh?” It was the second time I had called him that in a month; it seemed to put him on the defensive.
“You meant for Mary and me to marry all along. You planned it that way.”