On the third ring the phone was picked up, but as was usual, no voice answered. I gave the signal words and the other person said, “Go ahead, Tiger.”
Martin Grady was as casual as if he were discussing a simple stock merger, knowing I would never make this call unless it was a total emergency.
“Who’s in this area?” I asked.
“Don Lavois and Tony Williams.”
“Scrub Williams and send Don in.”
“Can you talk?”
“Ears only. We’re sitting on a big one. Take any of our top men out of projects you can shelve for the time being and have them on alert. Have them stand by at the usual place until I make contact. We’ll need one liaison man and a fast plane handy. You’ll be directly involved in this and will have to be ready to move fast.”
“The F-51 Mustang will be in from Sarasota tonight then. It will land at Newark.” There was a slight edge to his voice now, anticipation rather than nervousness. “You all right?”
“I’ll live.”
“Serious?”
“Doc Kirkland will send the bill and the details. Meanwhile scratch Vito Salvi. He’s had it.”
Grady hesitated, his voice cautious. “You sure?”
“Positive ID.”
“This will get you very special attention in certain quarters, Tiger. They won’t like their best trigger man being rubbed out.”
“What choice have they got?”
“But you have a choice,” he said.
“Like a nice vacation in the Andes or that sleepy village in Baja California?”
“I’m thinking along those lines. We can’t afford to lose you.”
“You can’t afford to hold me off this one either. I’m the one Vito talked to before I killed him and a vacation will get you nothing but silence, so now the choice is back to you.”
I could almost hear the silent evaluation he was giving my statement, then he said, “You’re asking for it. Take it.”
“I got it.”
“Need anything?”
“So far, no. Be ready for anything though. This is bigger than anything we ever touched.”
“I’ll wait for the report. Tonight?”
“As soon as the plane gets in. Others will have to know about it too.”
“Use your own discretion. Will they cooperate?”
“They’ll have to,” I told him and grinned a little. They had no choice either. I hung up, waited until Rondine took the phone away and sipped at the last of my drink. Just as I finished it the doorbell rang, two short, impatient notes on the buzzer.
Charlie Corbinet was our old C.O. in the O.S.S. He was still the raunchy, hard-bitten type he had been when he was our colonel and twenty years hadn’t softened him any. Ostensibly, he headed up a small but important industry, but I.A.T.S. had recruited him back into their new organization for the simple reason that they needed his type, his brains and his foresight.
A few of his superiors knew about his connection with me and hated his guts for it but they couldn’t do without his guts either and they let our association alone.
Now he stood there in the middle of the room, tall and rangy, the hard planes of his face still an indication of his true profession, his eyes scrutinizing me while his mouth twisted into a wry smile, knowing the yeast had started bubbling in the batter again.
I said, “Hi, Colonel.”
“Someday you’ll remember they made me a General on my retirement.”
“Habit. Sorry.” I smiled back at him. “What kind of pay you pulling?”
“I do all right.”
“A hundred says I make five times as much.”
“You’re just greedy.”
“Damn right. I work for it too. It isn’t enough.”
“Ever think one of the right agencies might take you on in spite of your record?”
“Screw them. They don’t pay enough. This way I do the same work and make a lot more bucks. I like compensation for the chances I take.”
“There’s a chance you can wind up in the pokey, too.”
“Not as long as I know where the bodies are buried... and Martin Grady can bail me out.”
Rondine handed Charlie Corbinet a drink, reserving a small one for herself. “Don’t bother arguing with him,” she said quietly.
Charlie nodded. “I couldn’t be bothered.” He took a quick taste of his drink, nodded with satisfaction and looked at me again. “I had a phoned report on the Vito Salvi fracas. You sure can stir things up.”
“Randolph?”
“Yes. They had been after him for two years.”
“When was their last contact?”
“Eighteen months ago.”
“Then they’re lucky. They had their work done for them.” I let it go through his mind, then added, “He had two of your men in that back room. How he nailed them I won’t worry about, but what was he after?”
“Classified, Tiger.”
I shrugged, making a real production out of it. “It doesn’t matter. Whatever they told him won’t go any further. It’s over with.”
“Is it?”
He could see the edges of my teeth in the grin. “Not quite. You see, we had a little talk too... before I killed him.”
“That’s what I thought.” Charlie turned, walked to a chair and sat down with a sigh of relief. “Want to come out with it?”
“Sure, Charlie. Tell me why Salvi wanted those men and I’ll tell you what he told me. Maybe.”
“One of your men was dead too.”
“Nobody that counted.”
“He was in Martin Grady’s employ.”
I nodded. “In a minor capacity by government directive. Grady owns pieces of many essential industries that come under the identical setup.”
Slowly, Charlie Corbinet turned the glass around in his hand, studied it before he took a drink, then decided. “You really want me to get my head chopped off,” he said.
“Not really. I’d just like to see you draw a full General’s pay with bonus for the work you do... and some real authority to back you up instead of handing it to guys like Randolph.”
“Tell me, Tiger... why don’t you like the way Washington runs things?”
“Because I don’t like to be classified with the patsies. I don’t like the stupidity that went behind the Bay of Pigs invasion... or the Panama crap... or the way they can knock us off in Viet Nam while we sit on our thumbs and get laughed at by the real pigs on the other side of the Berlin Wall. Someday they’re going to find out a few people in this country got the message a long time ago and are doing something about it — using their time, money and talent to protect what they have. Funny, but it’s fun too. It’s a real pleasure to shove it up and break it off in Moscow’s tail. We’re not any better than the Washington boys. We just have more latitude to operate in and can buy what they can’t, and have that nice, juicy knowledge that we can’t be pushed too far because whatever we do, we’re protected, and in that respect we can use the Soviet’s own cute techniques to slam back at them.”
“I’ve heard that speech before.”
“And I never get tired of giving it, buddy.”
“So what did Vito Salvi tell you?”
“Let’s start from the beginning. You first,” I said.
As usual, he waited, digesting his thoughts, but as usual, he came across. He had to and I knew it so I just sat there until he was ready. “Tiger... those two men...”
“Go on.”
“One came from Poland. He brought the story in.”
“What story?”
“There was a man named Louis Agrounsky, an engineer.”
He looked at me carefully, but I shook my head. “Never heard of him.”
“Very few ever did. He was an electronics engineer employed on our ICBM projects. In fact, the chief technician, in charge of the project. Somehow or other he has disappeared.”
“When?”