We tried the Conor Pass engraving in a few spots — in a hallway, in the front room — and decided to defer the decision of where to hang it. Elaine felt it wanted to be seen at close range, so we left it for now, propped against the base of a lamp on the drum-top table.
The little tasks one does, all of them performed in a companionable silence.
And then she said, “It wasn’t so bad.”
“No. It was a good evening, actually.”
“I love the two of them so much. Individually and together.”
“I know.”
“And he’s much better off without the place. He’ll be fine, don’t you think?”
“I think so.”
“But it really is, isn’t it? The end of an era.”
“Like Seinfeld?”
She shook her head. “Not quite,” she said. “There won’t be any reruns.”
Part of the Job
“Walters has gone over,” Jondahl said. He was cleaning his glasses with a specially impregnated tissue. “His was a very sensitive position, you know. He had access to his department’s most important plan. Took a copy of it and ran with it.” He crumpled the tissue, studied the lenses, put the glasses on and looked across his desk at me. “Now he’ll peddle it to the highest bidder.”
“It’s important?”
“Vital. Walters thinks he’s clear. He’s not. Security’s had an eye on him for months, waiting for something like this. He’s been followed, went to ground in a cheap hotel. The hotel’s under surveillance.” Jondahl looked at me, his glance apologetic. “You have to get to him before the competition does. You see that, of course.”
“We want the plan back, I suppose.”
“More than that. Walters was in a sensitive spot, I told you that. The plan is on paper. It’s in his head as well. He could hurt us.”
“So I have to hurt him first.”
Jondahl grunted. He passed me an airline ticket folder. “Your flight’s in three hours. Don’t suppose you’ll want to pack much. You can return as soon as you’ve made contact.”
“Good word for it.”
“Well. You know the game, of course. Walters knew the rules too, you might keep that in mind. He knew the risks, evidently felt the rewards justify them. Money, glory, whatever he wants. Whatever such people think they want. Well. You’ll recover the plan, you’ll deal with Walters, you’ll return as soon as possible. It’s your job.”
“Grand job.”
He looked at me. “Somebody has to do it. I don’t say it’s fun, but it needs doing. Most people barely know we exist, but—”
“They sleep better at night because we do our job.”
“Well,” he said.
I went back to my flat and packed a bag. I knew Walters, a nervous young man with brooding eyes and a high forehead. I had played chess with him several times, and once we had had lunch together. I wondered what made that sort of man decide to go over.
A taxi took me to the airport. I carried my one bag onto the plane. The flight was smooth and generally uneventful. The stewardess declined my dinner invitation, then sent me wistful looks suggesting that she might change her mind if I asked her again. I didn’t.
The plane touched down a half hour after sunset. I lugged my bag into the terminal building and dropped a dime in the telephone slot. I dialed and the phone was answered on the third ring. I said, “Marriage has many pains.”
“Celibacy has no pleasures.”
“Marvelous,” I said.
“We’ve made a reservation for you at his hotel. His room is 412. He’s not in it at the moment. He’s at dinner. We have two men on him. He didn’t meet anyone for dinner.”
“Good.”
“We believe he has someone coming to see him tomorrow morning. Perhaps earlier.”
I hung up and checked to see if they had returned my dime by mistake. They did once, years ago, and ever since I’ve looked for them to repeat this error. I took a taxi to Walters’ hotel. It was seedy. The lobby carpet was threadbare and all the furniture prewar. I signed in at the desk. The clerk punched a bell, and we waited in silence until a bellhop finally appeared. He escorted me to a room on the second floor. I had no change. I gave him a dollar and watched him gape at it. After he went away I put my clothes in the dresser, slipped the gun in one pocket and the ice pick in another. Then I walked past the elevator and climbed two flights of stairs and found 412. I knocked, and no one came.
The lock was laughable. I slipped the bolt with a strip of celluloid, let myself in. I gave the room a toss. The plan didn’t turn up, and I gave up and parked myself in a chair. I might have looked more carefully but didn’t care to make a mess. Jondahl would want this one to look like natural causes. If it was just a question of recovering the plan I would have tossed the room thoroughly and been gone before Walters returned, but since a confrontation was inevitable I decided to save myself the work and worry and let Walters find it for me.
Evidently he liked a leisurely dinner. I sat in the chair for half an hour before I heard his footsteps in the hall, then his key in the lock. I moved to the side of the door, and when he came through it I put the gun in the small of his back. He gasped, and I kicked the door shut and bolted it. I said, “Hello, Walters. The plan, if you don’t mind.”
“My God.” He looked at me, his mouth trembling. “Please. I never thought—”
“You never thought you’d be caught. No one ever does. I want the plan, then I’ll be going. That’s all.”
“I could cut you in.”
“The plan, Walters.”
“I’d give you half. One hell of a lot of money, all of it cash, and no one would have to know you took it.”
“I’m loyal. I don’t bite the hand that feeds me.”
“Loyal!” He looked again at the gun, then at me again. “Loyal. My God, you’re not human.”
“If that’s an insult, it’s the sort I can live with. The plan, and then I don’t care what you do.”
He may not have believed me. But there wasn’t much else to believe. It turned out that the plan was still in his suitcase, tucked between the lining and the frame. I looked it over, and it was what I was after.
“What’s that?”
“Where?”
I pointed, and he looked, and I hit him back of the ear, just hard enough to knock him out and not hard enough to leave a bruise that would make anybody wonder. He fell face downward. I rolled him over and stuck the ice pick into a nostril and on into the brain. A heart attack, or, if they checked more carefully, a brain hemorrhage.
The body remained undiscovered when I checked out early the next morning. I had breakfast on the plane. When I tossed the report on Jondahl’s desk he glanced at it, smiled at me. “And the contact?”
“Clean and neat.”
“Excellent. A good job.”
“Oh?”
My face bothered him. “You did well,” he said. “Take the rest of the week off.”
“I intend to.”
“Good. Get some sunshine, catch up on your sleep. This was just part of the job, you know that. You know what this—” he tapped the sheaf of papers “—would mean to our competitors.”
“Yes.”
“A detailed report of our fall merchandising program. Advertising, promotion, packaging, distribution, price structure. Everything.” He smiled at me. “I’m recommending a bonus for you. You’ve got a fine future. General Household Products is a grateful employer.”
“And I’m a loyal employee,” I said. I went outside to get some fresh air.