Hawk apparently had reached that same conclusion, too, for he agreed with me, although I think we both admitted to ourselves that we were hoping for the best while fearing the worst. “However,” he went on grimly, “I don’t think we have too much time. The Adabian Embassy, State tells me, already has made inquiries at the Watergate about Sherima’s whereabouts. They were told that she has gone out for the day, as you had the girl arrange with the manager. Finally, the embassy spoke to the manager directly, and he followed through as instructed by informing the First Secretary that he understood Sherima had gone into Maryland to look for a house. That seemed to satisfy them for the moment, but now the pressure is on.”
“How’s that?”
“It seems somebody at the embassy suddenly realized that Abdul Bedawi hasn’t reported in all day, as he apparently has been doing.”
“That strikes me as odd, too,” I admitted. “I wonder he hasn’t called in. He was making a point of it before. Where is the limo now?”
Hawk left the line to check with the radio room, then relayed the report to me: “Your friend is sitting in a real estate office in Potomac at the moment. It’s the second one she’s stopped at so far. The chauffeur is waiting in the car.”
“Something’s not right,” I said. “Normally, he would be using the opportunity to make a phone call so he could report in. Unless…”
“Unless what, N3?”
“Unless he already knew what he was going to find out when he contacted the embassy, sir. Can you have our cover car stick close to them from now on? I don’t like this whole setup anymore.” My mind was racing ahead of my words as things started falling in place. “I have the feeling we’re doing exactly as someone else wants us to do.”
“We’re already sticking as close to them as we can without tipping our hand completely. But wait a minute, Nick — Communications tells me that at one point this morning our men in the cover car thought that they had been made for sure. They got cut off from Sherima’s limousine by a patrol car that was escorting a funeral procession. When they were finally able to proceed, the limousine had obviously slowed down, because it only was a couple of blocks ahead of them. It does give the impression that Bedawi might have been waiting for them to catch up.”
Hawk started to say something else, then asked me to hold on when I heard another phone ring in his office. A chill swept over me when I recognized that ring — a double-bell tone. I knew it came from the red phone immediately beside Hawk’s right elbow, and that it was directly linked to the Oval Office in the White House. I had been with Hawk once before when it pealed and his automatic response—”Yes, Mr. President”—had tipped me off to the hot line. He’d never confirmed the identity of the caller to me, and I could tell that he had been annoyed with himself for answering the phone in that manner with anyone in earshot.
I waited for him to come back on the line for what must have been only five minutes but it seemed like hours. I couldn’t hear what he was saying; the red phone had a specially designed mouthpiece that confined the words to the transmitter. I was sure there was a super-scrambler on the line, too.
“N3?” Hawk was back on the phone to me at last.
“Yes, sir.”
“You recognized the ring?” He never missed a thing, although when I had been in his office the day he had answered the President’s call I had tried to pretend I hadn’t heard how he’d answered the red phone. Nonetheless, he apparently remembered the incident.
“Yes, sir,” I admitted.
“The Secretary of State is with the President. He has just been contacted directly by the Adabian ambassador, acting on specific orders from Shah Hassan. The United States Government has been asked to use all its facilities to locate the former Queen Sherima immediately and to put her in direct contact with His Royal Highness. The Secretary had no choice but to say that we would attempt to do so at once.”
“How soon is ‘at once’?” I asked.
“The Secretary bought us a little time, N3, but he put us on the spot at the same time. He told the Adabian ambassador to advise Shah Hassan that Sherima was due to return to his home for dinner this evening, not in Alexandria, but at the town house he keeps in Georgetown. He told the ambassador to assure the Shah that Sherima would be put in touch with him direct from there via the State Department radio network. He has a worldwide transmitter linkup from the town house and from his Alexandria home. The ambassador advised the Secretary while I was talking to him that the Shah would be waiting at his radio, despite the six-hour time difference.”
“How much time do we have?”
“The Secretary said that Sherima was due to arrive for dinner at about eight o’clock. That will be two a.m. in Sidi Hassan. And you can bet the Shah will be up waiting. That means we have about seven and a half hours to get Sherima back to the Watergate, Nick.”
I asked Hawk if he would contact the agents in the car covering Candy and Abdul and ask them for the name of the real estate office in Potomac where the limousine was parked. He said he would have the name for me momentarily, then asked why I wanted it.
“I’m going to get them back here,” I told him. “I’ll call Candy there and tell her that the embassy suspects something has happened to Sherima, so there’s no point in her keeping up the pretense with Abdul. I’ll tell her not to let on I’ve called, but just to tell him it’s time to drive back; she can say she is concerned about Sherima being alone, too, or something like that. I want to see what happens when they return. There’s something about this whole thing that’s not right, but I can’t put my finger on it. Or maybe it’s just that I’m getting fed up with sitting in this hotel room and figure I might stir up some action this way. Is that all right with you, sir?”
“You’re in charge, N3,” Hawk said. “Is there anything more you want from me right now?”
“No, sir. Just tell that cover car to stick close to them, and I want to be kept posted on their whereabouts when they get back to the District.”
“I’ll have the radio room contact you directly every ten minutes, N3,” Hawk said. “I’m going to have to go to the White House. The President wants me there when he and the Secretary of State determine what to do if Sherima isn’t found in time to talk to Hassan.”
I wanted to tell him I would do my best to make certain the possibility wouldn’t arise, but I already knew he was aware of that.
Shortly after Hawk hung up, an AXE radioman phoned to relay the name of the real estate agency where Candy was carrying out her part of the charade. I got the number from information and phoned, surprising the woman who answered by asking for Miss Knight. When Candy got on the line and discovered I was calling her, she appeared even more astonished.
“Nick, how did you know where to find me?”
“No time to explain now, beautiful. I’ll tell you all about it later. There’s been a new development and I want you to get back here as quickly as possible.”
“What’s happened? Is it Sherima? Have you found her? Is she—”
I interrupted, saying, “No, it’s not Sherima and we haven’t found her. But we’ve had word that Shah Hassan has been trying to contact her. Somehow, we believe, he’s been tipped off that she’s gone. Now, don’t let on to Abdul that you know anything. Just say you’ve decided to head back; you’re concerned for Sherima, for one thing, and that the agents you’ve visited already seem to have enough houses available for Sherima to look at without going any further.”
“Should I have him hurry back, Nick? If I do that, he might think that something is wrong.”