It was just short of noon. Lime said, “Put it together and take it back where you found it.”
Chad Hill’s mouth dropped open.
Lime said in a mild voice that didn’t betray his exasperation, “If that thing doesn’t broadcast on time they’ll know something went wrong.”
Chad Hill swallowed visibly. Lime said, “You’ve made copies by now.”
“Yes sir. Sent it to Washington by scrambler transmission.”
“Any prints on that equipment?”
“No.”
“All right then, take them up on the hotel roof and watch them set it up. When they’re finished, bring them back to this room and post a man on the door. Nobody goes in or out of this room until eight tonight—and no phone calls except to me. Right?”
“Yes sir.”
“You understand this, do you?”
“Yes sir. It’ll give us a jump on the rest of the spooks—no leaks. I understand.”
“Good.” Obviously Chad thought the measure was extreme but he knew how to follow orders and that was why Lime had picked him. “When you’re done here find me—I’ll have more chores for you.”
“Yes sir.” Chad swung away.
Lime reread the transcription in his fist. The Morse decode was brief:
ATTENTION WORLD X FAIRLIE IS ALIVE X
FLY WASHINGTON SEVEN TO GENEVA BEFORE
MIDNIGHT 17 JANUARY X MOVEMENT MUST BE
PUBLIC WITH RADIO & LIVE TV COVERAGE X
AWAIT FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS GENEVA X
At twelve-fifty there was a flash from Chad Hilclass="underline" “He’s taking off again.”
“You sure Mezetti’s still in the plane?”
“Yes sir. They’ve had field glasses on him for half an hour.”
“What’s he been doing?”
“Nothing. Poking around the place as if he lost something. Hooker says he looks confused and kind of pissed off—as if he expected somebody to meet him there and they didn’t show up.”
“Did he spend any time inside the farm buildings?”
“Long enough to poke around. He came right out again.”
“What about the suitcase?”
“He never took it off the plane.”
“All right. Track the plane and send Hooker down to look through those buildings.”
“He’s already down there sir. That’s where he’s calling from. I’ve got him on the other phone—you want me to ask him anything?”
“Well I assume he found nothing?” Lime was a little wry.
“That’s right sir. No sign anyone’s been there in weeks. Except Mezetti of course.”
“How about the basement?”
“No sir. He looked.”
“All right. Call me back.”
He hung up and lit another cigarette and tried to get his brain in working order. Somewhere in all this there ought to be a pattern but it wasn’t emerging. Perhaps he was missing it: he was running on his batteries, he’d had less than four hours’ sleep last night and it hadn’t been enough to make up for the previous two days without.
The phone rang. Chad Hill again. “For Christ’s sake. He’s coming back to Gibraltar. The pilot just radioed for landing instructions.”
“All right. Put an eight-man tail on Mezetti. As soon as he’s separated from the pilot bring the pilot in.”
“Yes sir.”
Lime cradled it but within seconds it rang again. “Sir, it’s Mr. Satterthwaite on the scrambler. You want to come over here?”
Satterthwaite’s high-pitched voice was shrill with unreasoning anger: he was getting rattled, things were piling up against him. “What have you got out there, David? And don’t tell me you’ve drawn a blank.”
“We’re moving. Not far and not fast, but we’re moving. You saw the message we’re supposed to get tonight?”
“A lot of good that is,” Satterthwaite said. “Listen, they’ve taken Dexter Ethridge to Walter Reed in an ambulance.”
It made Lime sit bolt upright. “Bad?”
“Nobody knows yet. He seems to be out cold.”
“You mean somebody tried to assassinate him?”
“No. Nothing like that. Natural causes, whatever it is—he was home in bed, or in the bathroom. Listen, you know what happens if Ethridge packs up. We’ve got to have Fairlie back by the twentieth.”
“Well you’ve still got a line of succession.”
“Milt Luke?” Satterthwaite snorted. “Get him back, David.”
As usual Satterthwaite was trying to sound like Walter Pidgeon in Command Decision and as usual his voice was wrong for it. Lime ignored the heroics. “What’s the decision on the exchange?”
“We’re divided. It’s still, ah, hotly contested, as it were.”
“It’s up to the President, though. Isn’t it.”
“We live in a democracy,” Satterthwaite said, quite dry. “It’s up to the people.”
“Sure it is.”
“David whether you like it or not it’s a political decision. The consequences could be catastrophic if we do the wrong thing.”
“I’ve got a piece of news for you. The consequences will probably be catastrophic whatever you do. You’d better shit or get off the pot.”
“Funny—Dexter Ethridge said the same thing. In somewhat more genteel language of course.”
“Which makes Ethridge a little brighter than the rest of you,” Lime said. He glanced across the communications room. A dozen men were busy at phones and teleprinters; a few of them wore headsets. Chad Hill was handing a telephone receiver back to the man seated at the table beside him. Hill started to gesture in Lime’s direction—something had developed that required Lime’s attention. Lime waved an acknowledgment and said to the scrambler, “Look, we’re glued onto Mezetti. Right now he’s leading us in circles but I think he’s going to take us to them if we give him a little time. I can’t have——”
“How much time?”
“I’m not an oracle. Ask Mezetti.”
“That’s what you ought to be doing, David.”
“Are you ordering me to pick him up?”
Static on the line while Satterthwaite paused to consider it. Lime was dropping the ball in his lap. “David, when I talked you into this it was with the understanding that the best way to get a job done is to pick the best people and give them their heads. I’m not going to start telling you how to do your job—if I were capable of that I’d be doing the job instead of you.”
“All right. But Mezetti may lead us right into the hive, and it could happen any time. I need to know how much latitude I’ve got if I have to start talking deals with them.”
“You’re asking blood from a stone.”
“Damn it I have to know if you’re going to agree to the exchange. Any negotiator has to know his bargaining points. You’re tying my hands.”
“What do you want me to tell you? The decision hasn’t been made yet. The instant it’s made I’ll let you know.”
It was all he was going to get. He stopped pressing it. “All right. Look, something’s come up. I’ll get back to you.”
“Do it soon.”
“Aeah. See you.”
He broke the connection and crossed the room and Chad Hill bundled him outside. In the Government House corridor Chad said, “He’s changed course on us.”
“He’s not landing in Gib?”
“The plane turned north.”
Lime felt relieved and showed it with a tight smile. “Now we’re getting somewhere. Who’s on him?”
“Two planes at the moment. Another one coming across from Lisbon to pick him up farther north.”
“All right then. Just let’s don’t lose the son of a bitch.”
The worst part was doing nothing, knowing things were happening out there but sitting still waiting for news. Lime sent a man out to buy him half a dozen packs of American cigarettes and if possible a large order of coffee. He retreated to his monk’s cell and tried to put his head together.
His sense of time had been blurred: fatigue gave him a sunless sense of unreality, everything took place at a distance as if seen through a camera. He had to rest. Once again he stretched out on the floor and closed his eyes.