It could be true or it could not. The man spoke in perfect American English, plus which he had volunteered the information and knew the code name. Against it was the fact that Percival was probably already blown, and there was nothing in the rule book that said the enemy always had to talk with an accent. There were plenty of good agents who were letter and accent perfect in languages other than their own. So Hewlitt sat back and waited as calmly as he could for whatever was to happen next.
The car swung into traffic and slowed down, inconspicuous once more in the mass of vehicles. Unless some witness had been quick enough to catch the license number and had reported it very promptly, there was almost no chance of effective pursuit. Furthermore, the police department was now under enemy control and was operating far below its usual level of efficiency.
As the minutes passed the car worked its way toward the Maryland border. That reminded Hewlitt of his meeting with Barbara in an unoccupied house; the first time that they had been together alone. He thought about her, wondering what she would do if she were in his position. The same thing that he was doing, he decided. His thoughts were interrupted when the car turned into the driveway of a private house. The man on his right got out, opened the side door of the building, and motioned Hewlitt inside.
It was clearly a better-class residence; the furnishings were of very good quality and the paintings which decorated the walls were original oils. That in itself was reassuring; the premises denied the thought of violence and spoke only of good manners and cultured people. When they reached the living room he was motioned to a chair; there was no hostility in it, but there was authority just the same. Hewlitt sat down and attempted to compose himself, he was certain that he had been brought here to meet someone, but if it was a member of the underground, there would have been no need for the peremptory manner in which he had been kidnapped. He confirmed his first impression when the three men who had brought him sat down too and waited. Then a woman came into the room.
Hewlitt stood up automatically. She walked up to him and held out her hand. “Mr. Hewlitt, I believe,” she said. “I am Mrs. Smith, do please sit down.” Hewlitt sat, and noted that the other men in the room had stood up too.
“Gentlemen,” Mrs. Smith added, “I think that Mr. Hewlitt and I would like to be alone, if you don’t mind.”
That was the first thing that was really reassuring. Hewlitt did not suffer from the illusion that all comely women were automatically desirable people — even if they acted that way. But if she was willing to be alone with him when she had more than adequate protection available, it could be taken as a good sign. The three men who had brought him went out as Mrs. Smith walked to a corner bar. “A drink, Mr. Hewlitt?” she invited.
“Perhaps later.”
“Very discreet of you,” she said and resumed her seat. “Mr. Hewlitt, your invitation here was very abrupt for a definite reason; we had to establish the fact that you did not come of your own free will. You will see why presently.”
She paused in case he had anything to say, but he chose to wait.
“To put your mind at ease, let me assure you that I know all about you and I have had very complimentary reports concerning your work from Percival.”
“I see.”
“Do you recall his telling you one evening a short while ago that if he were ever to be replaced a person answering to a certain code name would take over?”
Hewlitt opened his mouth to say yes, and then realized that it would be an open confession. “Please continue,” he said instead.
Mrs. Smith nodded. “You are indeed very careful and I fully approve of it. Let me assure you that Percival is perfectly all right, but I have come into the picture for a very good reason. I work for the First Team, Mr. Hewlitt. I am Rodney.”
He recalled the code name at once; the fact that it was a woman who bore it was surprising, but no more than that. Percival had specifically mentioned that the code name could be applied to either a man or a woman.
“How do you do,” Hewlitt said.
If she noted his careful restraint, she did not comment. “Mr. Hewlitt, the last time you talked to Percival he asked you if you were willing to take a more active role closer to the center of our operation and you accepted. After he cautioned you that it would involve a considerably increased risk he asked you again if you were still willing and your exact words to him, I believe, were ‘I think so.’ Is that correct?”
He had to believe her then. There were only three possibilities: the obvious one, that she was genuine; the second, that in some way Percival had been captured and made to talk; or that the safe house had been bugged. If either of the last two was the case, everything had gone to hell in a rocket anyway and he might as well speak freely.
“That is quite correct,” he said. “Are you a member of the First Team, Mrs. Smith?”
She shook her head. “No, Mr. Hewlitt, I am not, but I work directly for them.”
“You have my admiration,” Hewlitt said.
“Thank you. Now let me get down to cases; you are at this moment a very vital element in our planning because of your position and your exceptional ability to talk with our enemies in their own tongue. Also your integrity and judgment are both highly rated; in the opinion of some of our key people you have come a long way since the night that you identified Philip Scott — who was, incidentally, the person who betrayed Bob Landers; we know that definitely now.”
“What do you want me to do?” Hewlitt asked.
“Mr. Hewlitt, you already know about the escape of the nuclear submarine Ramon Magsaysay from Hunters Point. I am prepared to give you quite a bit more information about this operation. For example: she has successfully rendezvoused with a large cache of supplies that was positioned some time ago. She is now fully provisioned and equipped for a long voyage. She has fuel enough to steam more than a hundred thousand miles, and the crew manning her is made up entirely of hand-picked volunteers who are prepared to remain at sea almost indefinitely.”
“This is most interesting.”
“It most certainly is. This submarine is armed with sixteen Poseidon missiles of the latest type. It is commonly understood that each of these missiles is equipped with six separate nuclear warheads, all of which can be targeted and directed separately. A more accurate figure is ten. And she has other combat resources. The amount of firepower that she represents is so great that literally no nation on earth could stand up under it, and there is no nation that is not within her range. She is a fearful weapon.”
“All this being true,” Hewlitt said, “the enemy must be mustering every resource he has to find and sink her.”
“Of course, but with their present capabilities they probably cannot; they don’t have the technology. We have very accurate and up-to-date reports on what they can and cannot accomplish.”
“They may try hostages, then. I have heard a great deal about a Colonel Rostovitch; he is supposed to be totally ruthless.”
Mrs. Smith nodded. “He is, that is unquestionably right. But if he tries that, Magsaysay will fire at his homeland. I dislike to refer to it, but two nuclear explosions of very low yield compared to what Magsaysay can deliver brought Japan to her knees when she was prepared to fight fanatically to the very end.”
Hewlitt had a question. “Mrs. Smith, I take it that the submarine is operating under the orders of the First Team, is that right?”