“Right. I’d like everyone to just stay where you are, please.”
As the group watched, he walked over to Mike Slade and held the box close to him. The needle on the dial remained at zero. The man moved on to Patricia Hatfield. The needle remained still. Eddie Maltz was next, then Jerry Davis and Lucas Janklow. The needle remained still. The man moved to David Victor, and finally to Colonel McKinney, but the needle still did not move. The only person left was Mary. When he approached her, the needle began to swing wildly.
Mike Slade said, “What the hell—” He got to his feet and went over to Mary. “Are you sure?” Mike demanded of the civilian.
The dial was moving crazily.
“Talk to the machine,” the man said.
Mary rose in confusion.
“Do you mind if we break up this meeting?” Mike asked.
Mary turned to the others. “That’s it for now, thank you.”
Mike Slade said to the technician, “You stay.”
When the others had left the room, Mike asked, “Can you pinpoint where the bug is?”
“Sure can.” The man slowly moved the black box down, inches away from Mary’s body. As it got closer to her feet, the dial began to move faster.
The civilian straightened up. “It’s your shoes.”
Mary stared at him incredulously. “You’re mistaken. I bought these shoes in Washington.”
Mike said, “Would you mind taking them off?”
“I—” This whole thing was ridiculous. The machine had to be crazy. Or someone was trying to frame her. This could be Mike Slade’s way of getting rid of her. He would report to Washington that she had been caught spying and giving information to the enemy. Well, he was not going to get away with it.
She stepped out of her shoes, picked them up, and dropped them into Mike’s hands. “Here,” she said, angrily.
He turned them over and examined them. “Is this a new heel?”
“No, it’s—” And then she remembered: Carmen, would you please take this to a shoemaker in the morning and have it repaired?
Mike was breaking open the heel of the shoe. Inside was a miniature tape recorder.
“We found our spy,” Mike said dryly. He looked up. “Where did you have this heel put on?”
“I—I don’t know. I asked one of the maids to take care of it.”
“Wonderful,” he said sardonically. “In the future, we’d all appreciate it, Madam Ambassador, if you would let your secretary handle things like that.”
There was a cable for Mary.
“Senate Foreign Affairs Committee has agreed to Romanian loan you requested. Announcement to be made tomorrow. Congratulations. Stanton Rogers.”
Mike read the cable. “That’s good news. Negulesco will be tickled.”
Mary knew that Negulesco, the Romanian finance minister, was on shaky ground. This would make him a hero with Ionescu.
“They’re not announcing this until tomorrow,” Mary said. She sat there, deep in thought. “I want you to make an appointment for me with Negulesco this morning.”
“Do you want me to come along?”
“No. I’ll do this alone.”
Two hours later, Mary was seated in the office of the Romanian finance minister. He was beaming. “So you have good news for us, yes?”
“I’m afraid not,” Mary said regretfully. She watched his smile fade away.
“What? I understood that the loan was—how do you say?—‘in the bag’?”
Mary sighed. “So did I, Minister.”
“What happened? What went wrong?” His face was suddenly gray.
Mary shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“I promised our President—” He stopped as the full implication of the news hit him. He looked at Mary and said in a hoarse voice, “President Ionescu is not going to like this. Is there nothing you can do?”
Mary said earnestly, “I’m as disappointed as you, Minister. The vote was going well until one of the senators learned that a Romanian church group that wanted to visit Utah was refused a visa. The senator is a Mormon, and he was very upset.”
“A church group?” Negulesco’s voice had risen an octave. “You mean the loan was voted down because of a—?”
“That’s my understanding.”
“But Madam Ambassador, Romania is for the churches. They have a great freedom here!” He was almost babbling now. “We love the churches.”