Hewlitt drew in a deep breath. “And then what?” he asked.
“Go home in your usual way. Shortly thereafter your phone will ring and someone will ask for Roger Samuels, who has a telephone number closely similar to yours, by the way. If Scott did not show, simply tell the caller that he has the wrong number and hang up immediately. If Scott did show, but if the conversation did not go as I have outlined here, stay on the line. Your caller will apologize for disturbing you. Say, ‘That’s quite all right,’ and then hang up.” “Hang up immediately if Scott did not show,” Hewlitt repeated. “If he did, but if the conversation remained neutral, wait for an apology and then say, ‘That’s quite all right.’ ”
“Correct; with your memory you won’t have any trouble. Now if Scott did show, and if you planted the story as directed and feel confident that he bought it, in answer to the apology you are to say, ‘That’s quite all right. You didn’t disturb me.’ In that event, wait ten minutes and then go out the back door of your building, turn right, and walk toward the corner. There’s an all-night store there in case anyone notices you going that way. There will be a cab parked near to the corner. Get in and tell the driver to take you to the Hot Shoppe just across the bridge on the Virginia side. If he does, eat something and then go home. If he doesn’t, then go where he takes you.”
Hewlitt had all but forgotten that Frank was still present; he turned and looked up, but received a negative shake of the head in reply. “You and me shouldn’t be seen together too much except for the regular times,” Frank said.
Hewlitt turned back to Percival. “Then what?” he asked.
Percival stood up. “You’ll be told. Just follow instructions and don’t attempt to improvise. That’s all.”
From downstairs there came a small stir of noise indicating that the show was either over or in an intermission period. Once more Hewlitt shook hands with Percival and then followed Frank out the door. He felt a certain confidence that he could carry off the role that had been assigned to him, because he instinctively liked Phil Scott anyway.
Frank dropped him off in front of the bar and then wished him good night. As the cab retreated down the street he stood on the pavement for a moment as though he was deciding whether or not to go inside, then, holding himself at a casual emotional level as far as he was able, he opened the door and stepped through.
His first thought was to look around carefully to see if Scott was already there, but before he had finished closing the door behind him he realized the mistake that would be. Instead he headed toward the rear of the narrow room so that if he was to have a visitor, the resulting conversation could be held in relative privacy. He looked straight ahead and avoided even glancing at the bar patrons. He rubbed his chin as he walked, and then massaged the muscles in his throat. It was the gesture of a man who has just engaged in an activity he would rather not publicize, a self-conscious covering up of inner embarrassment.
He had almost reached the piano bar when he felt his arm touched; he turned and there was Scott, dressed in casual sports attire which suited him well. “Buy you a drink, Hew?” he offered.
For a moment Hewlitt looked slightly startled. It was perfectly genuine; he had not expected a possible contact to be made so soon. Then he shook hands. “Let’s go in back if you don’t mind,” he suggested. “I feel like sitting down quietly.”
The small rear lounge was largely empty. A corner table invited them with a frosted glass candle holder glowing softly in the semidarkness. As Hewlitt sat down he admired the easy way that Scott put down his own drink and drew up a chair. “On the town, Hew?” the captain asked.
Hewlitt shook his head. “I dropped in at a friend’s house for a little while, that’s all.”
Scott signaled to the cocktail waitress. “I was supposed to play bridge tonight, but the fourth didn’t show up. Do you play, Hew?” The question remained unanswered while the girl came over and took the order for a drink for Hewlitt and a fresh one for Scott. When she had retreated in a swirl of miniskirt and black pantihose, Hewlitt picked up the conversation. “Sometimes, Phil; it depends. Not much lately.”
For a full half hour the conversation remained sterile: the casual comments of two men concerned with matters of much more moment than the things they had chosen to talk about. Hewlitt did not have to remember the role assigned to him; the more he sat in Scott’s company the more he found himself establishing empathy with the man. Although his presence there was almost a total betrayal, he forced that thought out of his mind and considered only that they had met casually. Then he began to hope, almost to pray, that their meeting had been exactly as Scott had indicated that it was, a completely accidental encounter. He liked Scott, he wanted him to be cleared of suspicion. In the underground he could be damn valuable and he had the guts to do things — he had already proven that.
“Hew,” Scott said, “I was wondering: do you expect this thing to last forever?”
Hewlitt glanced around automatically to be sure that they were not being overheard. “Nothing ever does,” he answered cautiously. “But I have a feeling that we have a lot worse ahead of us before it all ends, one way or another.”
Scott nodded over his drink. “You’re right, you’ve got to be. But, Hew, it doesn’t make sense.” He stopped and visibly put down the anger which was trying to edge his voice. “Look, we’ve got a helluva big and powerful country here, two hundred million of us live in it, and I don’t care what the box score says, nobody can take over an establishment like that and make it stick.”
‘They had colonialism in Southeast Asia for two hundred years,” Hewlitt said. “The people there had nothing to start with, but eventually the European powers had to get out. The Dutch out of Java, the French out of Indo-China, the British out of Burma.”
“True, but in some of those places the commies came in — they backed Ho in Indo-China, for example. Nobody that I know of is going to back us; we got ourselves into this corner and we’re going to have to get ourselves out.”
Hewlitt toyed with his glass. “You’re in the Air Force,” he said. “You tell me how.”
“There’s too many of us; some of the people who believed what Fitzhugh told them know better now; even Wattles has lost his black following.”
“The Air Force is great — the best,” Hewlitt told him, “but what are you going to fly — Ramrods?”
Scott leaned closer and looked down at his glass for a moment. “Hew, look at it this way: there are a lot of them here, but they’re still outnumbered something like ten thousand to one or better. That’s just a guess, of course. With all their planes that our brilliant Mr. McNamara thought were obsolete, and their missiles, and their navy, and their garrison troops, they still don’t have enough to keep us in tow, not if we choose to do something about it.”
Hewlitt carefully made no answer; he did not want to commit himself that soon.
“At the moment the Air Force is down, but it isn’t out. We still have some resources left.”
Hewlitt looked up at that. “Can you make them count?”
This time Scott remained silent for several seconds, then he said, “Damn right.”
“That’s good to hear.”
“Consider what happened, Hew,” Scott continued. “When they pointed the loaded gun at us, and we were stuck with the Ramrod as our principal air superiority system, the President made that speech about saving human life and plain gave in. Well, the armed forces aren’t in being to say that a war that’s forced on us is too risky and then bow out. But the President is the commander in chief — or he was. He put out the order to lay down our weapons and it was a court-martial offense not to do so — we are the instrument of national policy. The whole damn Sixth Fleet had to put into port in the Med without firing a shot, because the order was final and absolute. Even the nuc subs had to turn themselves in.”