“Yes, I am.”
“Seven, then, unless I call you to the contrary.”
Once more Hewlitt found himself with thinking to do. He did not know what the senator wanted with him, but he could guess in several different directions. Mentally he stacked them up in his mind and then tried to work out a plan to deal with each of them.
He picked up the telephone and dialed the number of the safe house. Davy answered promptly, “Jones’ TV service.”
“This is Mr. Hewlitt,” he said.
“Yes, sir, what can I do for you?”
“My TV went out on me last night — sound but no picture. It’s intermittent; sometimes it’s fine, then it goes out again.”
“I understand, sir. I’ll go out there right now if there’s someone to let me in.”
“I don’t believe that there is now. How about five-thirty?”
“That’s fine, sir, I’ll be there.”
As he hung up Hewlitt thought that that had been a nice bit about the fault being intermittent: if anyone went in to check and the set performed normally, it would still not disprove that the call for service had been genuine.
When Hewlitt arrived home he found Davy waiting for him in the hallway. He admitted him and then gave him substantially the same account that he had over the phone of the supposed trouble with his set. Davy knelt down before it, turned it around and took off the back. Then he opened his kit of tools and extracted a compact piece of equipment which Hewlitt had never seen before. It was a professional product and something about it suggested at once that it was classified.
It was self-contained, at least it carried its own power supply and required no external source. “The set looks all right at the moment, Mr. Hewlitt,” Davy said. “If you don’t mind, I’ll wait a little while and see if the picture will go out for us.”
“I’d appreciate it if you would, and it probably will,” Hewlitt answered. The two men understood each other perfectly as they played out the game for the benefit of any possible eavesdropper.
“May I use the bathroom?” Davy asked.
“Yes, of course.”
With the instrument in his hand Davy walked toward the rear of the apartment. He went into the bathroom, closed the door, and after a suitable interval flushed the toilet. As he came back he walked carefully around the walls, holding a thin wire antenna in his left hand.
“The picture is flickering a little,” Hewlitt said.
“Yes, sir, I see it.”
That meant that the search for listening devices was not completed.
Fifteen minutes later it was. “You’re clean, Hew,” Davy said. “Unless they’ve developed something new and revolutionary very recently. Let me check if anyone else has been in here.”
He made a careful inspection of the inside of both of the doors that gave access to the apartment; he opened each of them slightly, and checked the surfaces of the tumbler latches. When he had finished he came back to the living room. “Tentatively, I doubt if anyone has been in here who wasn’t invited,” he said. “They could have a duplicate key and may have used that, but they probably wouldn’t go to that much trouble when there’s no need.”
“You’re sure that it’s all right?” Hewlitt asked to be certain.
“I’m betting my neck on it.” He indicated the piece of equipment he had used. “You don’t know that, of course, but it’s highly sophisticated and almost impossible to fool. Also it’s entirely passive and gives no evidence that it’s being used. We’ve been trying to fool it ourselves ever since we’ve had it to see how it will stand up and we haven’t been able to get past it once.”
“That’s very reassuring,” Hewlitt said. “Let me make you a drink.”
“Rain-check, please. Anything of interest?”
“Frank knows. I’m expecting Fitzhugh, at his request. If I can, I’ll steer him to the Chinese restaurant.”
“Excellent, we’ll get a tape of whatever it is. The place is safe, by the way, we keep a constant check.”
Davy replaced the back on the TV, but not before he had installed a new part in the picture circuit. “Just in case someone gets curious,” he said. “Remember that I didn’t guarantee that your phone isn’t tapped; that’s another matter entirely.”
“Right. I understand.”
Before he left Davy made out a receipt on his service pad for a cash payment covering the call and the new part. Then he shook hands and let himself out while Hewlitt put the false receipt on an accumulation of other papers. When he was alone once more he evaluated the inspection that had been made and decided that it had been dependable; that piece of interesting equipment and the way in which it had been used somehow inspired his confidence. So, for that matter, did Davy himself; the more he saw of the man, the more he was convinced that he knew what he was doing. And if there was a part in his television set that could be responsible for an intermittent picture, that would be the one that had been replaced. It would all check out if anyone was interested enough to look.
Senator Fitzhugh arrived at ten after seven. Hewlitt was a little surprised to note for the first time how large a man he was. So often that was true of successful politicians; many people seemed to feel that a physically big man would be able to represent them more effectively and somehow the votes he would cast would be more authorative. It wasn’t true, of course: Harry Truman was a good case in point. On the other side of the fence, Hitler had been a small man too.
In Hewlitt’s modest apartment the impressive, white-haired senator seemed slightly out of place. He settled himself into a chair and accepted a drink as anyone else might have done, but he kept looking about the room as though he were expecting something to happen or someone else to appear. Hewlitt, his own glass in his hand, sat down reasonably close to his distinguished visitor. He did not presume intimacy, but he offered himself as a companion if the senator wanted it that way. He had asked for this meeting, so presumably he had something to say.
After a few seconds of silence it became evident that Senator Fitzhugh was ill-at-ease. He continued to look about; it struck Hewlitt that he might be unconsciously hoping that some interruption would occur and he would not have to unburden himself of whatever was on his mind.
Finally he decided to speak. “Mr. Hewlitt,” he said, “I have come here to see you more or less as an act of desperation.”
“How may I help you, sir?” Hewlitt asked.
Again the senator fell silent, apparently sorting out his thoughts one at a time. ‘1 am concerned that in some manner we might be overheard,” he said finally.
Hewlitt remembered the desirability of having any significant conversation taped. In a way it would be a betrayal of the senator’s confidence, but presumably anything Fitzhugh had to say to him should be reported if it was of value.
“I have no reason to believe that these rooms have been wired,” he said, “but considering what we both know, I’m being exceptionally cautious. Your secretary told me that you would like to eat in some out-of-the-way place where we could have some privacy.”
“That’s correct — yes,” Fitzhugh answered.
“Quite close to here there is a small, very quiet Chinese restaurant I go to sometimes. The food is quite a bit better than average, and they have a number of booths where it is possible to sit unobserved.”
“Chinese food is not my especial favorite,” the senator said, “but at the present time I don’t care very much what I eat and the place you suggest sounds suitable. Let’s go there.”
Hewlitt had a second thought: he was satisfied in his own mind that they were not being overheard and it might be that in a more public place Fitzhugh would be totally reluctant to talk at all. “Is there anything I can do for you before we leave?” he asked.