"What the hell-?" Tal said.
Malakov drew himself up. "I am here at the request of Victor Rafferty," he announced formally, in good English. "I received a telephone call a half hour ago asking me to come here, by this route. Rafferty said it would prove to you that he is who he says he is."
Tal dazedly stepped back, and the Ambassador entered the suite.
"It means he's been close to me all this time," Tal said distantly. "Who?"
Tal's desk intercom buzzed. He pressed the flashing button with some annoyance and spoke sharply into the speaker. "Marge, I thought I told you I wasn't to be disturbed!"
A woman's voice with a Midwestern accent came over the line. "I know, sir; I'm sorry. It's a Mr. Elliot Thomas. He insists on talking to you. He says it's very important. He's … calling on the green line."
My chest constricted, making it hard for me to breathe. My heart was pounding as I leaned forward and gripped the edge of Tal's desk.
Tal's brow furrowed. "Elliot Thomas? Who's he, and how did he get the green-line number?"
"I don't know, sir," the woman answered. "He will only say that it's very urgent and concerns a man by the name of Victor Rafferty."
"All right, Marge," Tal said tightly. "Put him through." There was a click. Tal picked up the telephone. "Yes, Mr. Thomas?" he said, excitement making his voice sound thin. "What do you know about Victor Rafferty?"
I couldn't distinguish what the voice at the other end of the line was saying, but Tal listened for a few moments, then gasped in astonishment. He grabbed a pencil and held it poised over a pad.
"How, Mr. Thomas? Give me some kind of proof!"
There was more unintelligible mumbling on the other end. Tal scribbled something on the pad, then shoved it across the desk to me. I looked at the paper and felt my mouth go dry despite the fact that I was certain what Tal had written.
There was one word: Raffertyl
There was a pause. Then Tal said: "All right, Thomas. The Ambassador's here, but the Secretary General is ill and in the hospital. Will you deal with me? … Okay. Hang on where you are. Just don't turn yourself in to Lippitt; if you do, no one will ever see you again. . We'll be there as soon as possible."
Tal gently replaced the receiver in its cradle, then clenched and unclenched his fists. He was staring straight ahead.
"That was Rafferty?" My voice cracked. I attempted to swallow, but there was no moisture left in my mouth.
"He's been right here at the U.N. all along," Tal said in a tone of disbelief.
"I know."
Tal raised his eyebrows. "You know? How do you know?"
I looked back at Malakov, who was standing a few feet away. He looked overcome by it all; his eyes were wide, and he was holding one pudgy hand to his mouth as if he had a toothache. "Thomas' name is on the list of delegates to the seminar. I talked to him before I came to see you. He's an engineer working for UNESCO."
"It's perfect," Tal said distantly. "Or it was. An engineer; with his knowledge of buildings and how they function, he had no difficulty getting the job. First he fooled Lippitt into thinking he was dead; that got him and his wife off the hook. Then he went someplace for plastic surgery, probably Rio de Janeiro. Finally, there would be the problem of a new identity, but money would take care of that."
"But where'd he get the money? Lippitt said he had no funds."
Tal thought for a few moments. "I think I can guess. Gambling: horse races, card games, the stock market-you name it. He'd have every advantage, because he was constantly picking the brains of the experts and his opponents. He got together the money he needed for the traveling, surgery, and a whole new set of identity papers. Then he came back here and got a job at the U.N. It was a good, hardheaded decision. He didn't want to always be looking over his shoulder. If a question ever arose about his supposed death, this would be the best place to pick up on it."
"It worked," I said, "until he left a drawing where he shouldn't have."
The Ambassador stepped up behind us. "Wh … where is Rafferty now?" he asked breathlessly.
"In an abandoned boathouse in the Rockaways," Tal said softly.
"What's happening?" Malakov demanded. "Tell me what is happening!"
"He's found a way to end it," Tal said thoughtfully. "I suppose you could call it the Goldfish Bowl Solution."
"What are you talking about?" Malakov snarled. "And where is the Secretary General?"
"The Secretary General is indisposed, Mr. Ambassador. The important thing is that Rafferty is tired of hiding; he knows it can't work anymore, and he wants to come in. He's made arrangements for all of us, Mr. Ambassador-you for the Russians, Lippitt for the Americans, and me-to be together when he turns himself in to me, representing the Secretary General. He's also notified the media, so there'll be plenty of coverage. No more secrets, Mr. Ambassador; it's all going to come out. He intends to place himself under the protection of this office; he'll remain at the U.N. for all to see. The whole world will know about him, so there'll no longer be any reason to kill him. He's willing to use his talents in any country's behalf, provided it's for a peaceful purpose. The Secretary General will screen all requests."
"God," I said. "He'll be like an animal in the zoo."
Tal grunted. "But no longer an endangered species."
Malakov looked grieved. I imagined Lippitt had looked the same way when he'd received the news. "Lippitt must already know," I said. "That was his message. He has a head start on us."
"You're right," Tal said curtly. "We'll have to hurry."
"Just one second," I said, grabbing the telephone. "Can you get me an open line?"
Tal punched a button and I heard a dial tone. I dialed Garth's precinct. Garth was out. I did a lot of screaming about a death in the family and they patched me through to his car.
"Mongo!" he shouted over the line. "What the hell-? Where the hell are you? I've been looking all over the goddamn city! Man, have I got some questions for you\"
"I'll meet you at"-I looked at the address Tal had written on the pad-"1386 Rockaway Boulevard."
"What's on Rockaway Boulevard?"
"Answers."
"Don't be cryptic! I can't just drive out to the Rock aways!"
"You will if you want to be in on the wrap-up of the Rafferty thing. Make a lot of noise on the way, and bring along as much blue as you can!"
"We go now," Tal said, heading for the elevator as I hung up.
22
The tires of Tal's car squealed as we gathered speed in the underground garage. He was doing close to thirty by the time we hit the street. As we sped down Second Avenue, I hung on and listened to the sirens in the distance ahead of us. Garth was on his way, with company.
"I think this could be a trick," Malakov said. The Ambassador's face was ashen, and he was hanging on to a leather passenger loop with both hands. "The American agent will get there before we do."
The Ambassador had a point. Lippitt had a good half- hour start, and there was no way Tal could drive fast enough to make up the difference. It bothered me.
"Lippitt's not going to like our showing up," I said to Tal. "We could both end up in the slammer for the next two hundred years."
"Well, we'll just have to worry about that when the time comes," Tal said. He came up on a lumbering soda truck and veered effortlessly around it while I fought off the impulse to grab the wheel. Malakov gasped. "The important thing is that Rafferty's proposal is reasonable," Tal continued easily. "He'll be highly visible at all times. Whatever he wants to do, he'll be seen doing it, and that's the all-important thing. If anyone wishes to talk with him, fine; people with secrets will know enough to stay away."