“The telegraph office demanded identification?”
“They did... and he presented it. The check was cashed at the receiving office in small bills. The clerk remembered him well enough to describe him and there’s no doubt about it being Agrounsky. I passed the information on to Newark Control and they tried to pick it up without any luck. He never checked in at any of the local hotels or motels and the clerk didn’t remember him having a car.”
“He could travel a long way on two grand.”
“Or he could stick around and spend it,” Ernie said.
“That’s what I’m thinking too.”
It was making better sense now. Wilmington was a seaport and a possible drop for narcotics that flowed into the country. If Agrounsky drew a blank in the Myrtle Beach area after he sold his car he could have headed north by bus looking for another supplier and Wilmington was the next logical spot on the route to New York. If a source had been prearranged for him he’d know where to go, but he wouldn’t be taking any chances on being caught short again. Even though he was still an amateur in the business, a hophead could be crafty. He had to learn fast to stay on his kick and keep the monkey off his back. That was where the Soviets went wrong. They weren’t dealing with a rational person at all. Agrounsky the scientist they could deal with. Agrounsky the addict was unpredictable. He wasn’t taking any chances getting screwed with a cut deal any more. He had picked up his own bundle and was getting the H his own way now.
Ernie cut off my thought with, “Your package will be at the post office in General Delivery tomorrow morning. There’s still a check on all Bezex sales and one was reported at the Atlanta air terminal yesterday. If Hoppes is on his way down it’s along the route. Other sales were scattered. Miami reported several, but the salespeople knew the buyers.”
“What’s the life of the container?” I asked him.
“About two days of constant use. Built-in obsolescence, European style. Potent, but of short duration. A real sales gimmick. Scatter the batch down there and watch for a reaction.”
“Will do, Ernie.” I paused, thought a moment and said, “Has Rondine made contact yet?”
“No. Your message will go through when she calls. Virgil Adams said she and her friend Talbot went to Washington but haven’t been located yet. They may still be there or on the way back.”
“Right.”
“Now here’s one direct from H.Q. Grady wants action fast. You’re not getting through often enough and he’s hot. Word has leaked out of some of the ICBM installations that something big’s going on and the newspapers are yelling for official statements on what’s happening. A smart assed reporter dug out a history on Vito Salvi and wanted to release it but I.A.T.S. reached him in time and he’s been in protective custody since this morning. It’s gotten as far as overseas and there’s a storm brewing, Tiger. Nobody is going to be able to sit on this much longer.”
“But nothing’s been located?”
“Not as far as we know. They completely cut off the installation at the March Station and are rebuilding the system. Unless the by-pass is found they’ll eventually do it all over, but that will take a year anyway and will leave us in the cold. Technical crews went into the Nordic and Vesper Stations in California, but that’s only a drop in the bucket. All it takes is one and Agrounsky was involved in nine of the projects. Damn, this thing even has me shaking.”
“It should.”
Ernie’s voice changed then and he said almost quietly, “How does it look, Tiger?”
“Lousy,” I told him and put the phone back.
Next door the water was still running hard and I heard Camille’s voice half muted in some song. I lifted the phone again and gave the operator the number of Helen Lewis’ apartment in Sarasota I had picked up from Hardecker’s report sheet.
After a two minute wait I got the superintendent of the building who came on with a high flutey voice and told me who he was. I said, “Can you reach Helen Lewis for me?”
“Miss Lewis? Why, I don’t believe she has a phone.”
“Can you get her to this one?”
He giggled, then said, “I’m afraid not. Miss Lewis has been on vacation and isn’t expected back for some time. Can I take a message?”
“Do you know where I can reach her?”
“You might try Rome,” he giggled again. “That’s where she said she was going. She travels a lot, you know. In fact, if she weren’t paid up for a year in advance I’d be tempted to rent her apartment out.”
“Don’t do that,” I told him.
“No, of course not. I was only joking. Sorry I can’t be of help.”
“Tell me one thing... is her apartment furnished?”
“Naturally, all of our apartments are. Why, may I ask?”
“No reason. Thanks anyway.”
“Certainly,” he said, and broke the connection with another giggle.
And there it ended again. A short road with nothing around the bend. Everything petered out into a puff of dust. The whole world was sitting on the thin edge of destruction, never knowing how close to the edge it was, and every thread to the man upon whose whim annihilation or life depended was broken off short.
The trouble was that it wasn’t a planned arrangement. It was something totally accidental that was stumbled upon, and before an arrangement could be properly set up, circumstances became accidental again. Agrounsky’s condition was seized upon quickly enough. The importance of his defection from logical principles was recognized, but he couldn’t be handled in an ordinary manner, his susceptibility to narcotics was minimized, and he got out of the circle because of his immediate need for the big jolt.
He was fair game now, but above all, he was his own biggest target.
Next door the water stopped and I heard the shower doors open and shut as Camille Hunt stepped out to dry herself. I opened the bureau drawer, took out a blue oxford shirt and unfolded it, then stepped outside and knocked on her door.
When she called to come in I pushed the door open. She hadn’t bothered to lock it. The electric wall heater was going full blast with a chair drawn up in front of it, her clothes draped over the back to dry off. Tendrils of steam still came from the partially opened bathroom door and I walked over and stuck my hand in with the shirt in it.
“This is all I could find,” I said.
“Gee, thanks.”
“It ought to be long enough to cover up the goodies. Tie the tails between your legs and be glad I’m so thoughtful.”
She snatched it from me with a laugh and slammed the door shut just as I got my hand out of the way. A minute later it opened again and she came out. Camille hadn’t tied the tails like I told her, but it was long enough. She stood there smiling at me and said, “Damn you. It’s indecent.”
“I saw your picture in the office, remember?”
“That’s not the same,” she told me.
And she was right. Her body was still damp from the shower and the fabric clung to her skin, her breasts full and high, centered with emotional punctuation marks she couldn’t hide, rising pertly with each nervous breath she took.
The taper of the shirt was too big, blousy at the waist, but swelled out over hips that filled it and draped down across a flat stomach that arched outward gently from her navel before outlining the female beauty that lay beneath. The shirt ended at the middle of her thighs and somehow she seemed more naked than if she had been wearing nothing at all, and with the light from the bathroom behind her, filtering through the cloth, all the essence of the woman in the picture was magnified in front of me.