He didn't shoot his, of course. He never really considered it. He probably wasn't even authorized to shoot me, when you came right down to it. He'd just been told to wave his magic.38 caliber wand at me, if necessary, and I would be his helpless slave. He was still talking, breathlessly and indignantly, when I took the weapon away from him.
I held it for a moment, almost angry enough to ram it down his throat as I'd promised-as if I hadn't had enough firearms pointed my way during the last few days, without having my own people, such as they were on this lousy job, getting into the act! I seriously considered pistol-whipping him a bit, just as an object lesson, or maybe breaking an arm or two so he couldn't wave any more guns around, at least for a little. Then I sighed, backed off, pressed the latch, swung out the cylinder of the revolver, and shook out the loads. I tossed the empty gun out the open door, and heaved the cartridges after it. It's only in the movies that you toss loaded guns around like beanbags.
The embryo secret-agent type was glaring at me, full of resentment and injured pride. I could see what was going through his mind: I had humiliated him and he ought to redeem himself somehow. It was typical of his training. They'd taught him how to use judo and invisible ink, but they hadn't bothered to teach him to think like a pro. Nobody'd hammered into the space between his ears the primary fact of undercover life, to wit, that his damn little personal feelings were, or should be, of no concern to anyone, not even to him.
I said, "If you jump me, Sonny, I'll stomp you. I swear I will. I'll mash you right into the ground. There won't be anything left but a bloody spot the dog will be glad to lick up for me."
He didn't speak. I reached into a cabinet for an oil can and put it on the dinette table. I took from my pocket the Buck knife I'd just acquired, sat down on the empty seat, put a drop of oil on the hinge of the knife, and began working the blade back and forth to free it. The white hope of the undercover services watched me warily. I guess he thought I was threatening him, or something. Maybe I was.
"What's your name?" I asked.
"That's none of your business."
I said, "What's your name, Sonny? I won't ask you again." He was silent. I said warily, "Look, I'm pretty tired. I've been up all night with a sick canine friend. All I was planning to do today was sleep until our afternoon rendezvous, and then sleep some more until ferry time tomorrow morning. But if you think I can't find reserves of strength somewhere, enough to get a few answers out of you, you are sadly mistaken. Now answer the question."
"My name… my name is Smith."
"Fine," I said. "I don't insist on the truth. Use your imagination if you like. Just so I get some answer." I looked at him hard. "Smith, eh? Would you be any relation to Mr. Washington Smith, whom I met very briefly a week or so back?" He was silent. I said, "Never mind. You don't have to answer that. But there is kind of a family resemblance. The same long, pointed, snoopy nose, the same humorless, fanatic eyes…"
"Damn you, you can't talk that way about my-!" He stopped abruptly. I grinned at him. "Okay, Junior Smith. Now tell me what this is all about. You boys hauled me off my other duties to do some work for you. You spent a lot of time and effort briefing me about a character I was supposed to resemble slightly, whom you wanted me to impersonate. It was a vitally important mission, you told me. The exact details were shrouded in security, but the fate of the nation, if not the world, depended on my playing this part for you. And now, suddenly, now that I'm on my way and doing fine, you march in with a gun, taking a big risk of blowing my cover and wrecking the whole operation-if only by making me so mad I'll throw your lousy job in your faces. Just what the hell are you people pulling on me, Junior Smith? Or trying to pull, to be more precise."
Young Smith locked his lips. "You can't throw the lousy job, as you call it, in our faces, Helm. You haven't got a job. You're through!"
"Says who?"
"Says my… I mean, the orders were issued in Washington right after the gist of your last phone call was received there, the one you made early this morning, reporting another dead body. You're finished, Helm. You're out. You're to turn over to me what's in the dog collar, and then you're to have nothing further to do with this mission, nothing whatever."
Still working the knife blade back and forth, I frowned at him thoughtfully across the table. "And just what was there about these orders that made it necessary for them to be delivered over a.38 Special?"
"Well," said Junior Smith, a little embarrassed, "well, the way you've been acting, we didn't know… I mean, we weren't quite sure how you'd take… anyway, I was supposed to take no chances with you."
I nodded. "I see. Pointing a loaded firearm at a guy in my line of work comes under the heading of taking no chances. It would be interesting to know just what you folks consider really risky." I reached for the oil can once more. The knife was loosening a bit, but it still had a long way to go before I could count on getting it into action in a hurry. "And just how have I been acting, Junior?"
"Well… well, you know," he said. "You know what you've done!"
I said, "Frankly, I thought I'd done pretty well. I was told to get through, come hell or high water, and I'm through, this far, anyway. I was given a schedule to keep and I'm right on time. There were a few obstructions to overcome, but I dealt with them without letting them delay me significantly. So what's the gripe?"
"A few obstructions!" he said sharply. "You've killed five people getting here, Helm! The Canadians are complaining bitterly about the one-man crime wave we've turned loose on them. You've left a trail of blood across the whole Northwest! Did you really expect us to sit by and approve what you've been doing in our name?"
I regarded him with a certain amazement. The idea that anybody would draft an experienced agent-a specialist in homicide, no less-for a dangerous mission, tell him that the fate of humanity depended on his carrying it out, and then complain about the breakage, was so childish that for a moment I couldn't believe he was serious.
I said, "I see. You people want the lawn mowed, but you don't want to hurt a single dear little blade of grass doing it, is that it?"
"Well," he said defensively, "well, I suppose there are times when an agent has to kill in self-defense, but…
"And what am I supposed to have been doing, shooting and knifing people for the pure sadistic fun of it?"
"The man in Pasco was shot in the back, Helm. In the back! And so was the one at the campground just east of here. How can you possibly call that self-defense?"
I studied him carefully. He was human, all right. At least he had a nose, a mouth, and two eyes. There was presumably a brain somewhere behind the eyes, but it had never been given a chance. It had early been washed clean of all practical and sensible and logical thought processes and supplied with a bunch of automatic TV clichй reactions to take their place.
It occurred to me that if I'd 'had any matchmaking ambitions, I would have made a great effort to get this specimen together with Pat Bellman. They were obviously made for each other. She, too, had been firmly convinced that, homicide-wise, there was a great moral distinction to be made between an eastbound victim and one heading west.
I said, "I will correct my statement. The man in Pasco was shot, not in defense of me, but in defense of my dog. I was told that the animal was intrinsically valuable, wasn't I? And that the whole mission depended upon my having him constantly available for identification? Besides, he's a pretty nice pup. Fuzzy-face was going to shoot him, so I shot Fuzzy-face. I apologize for not asking the gentleman to rise and turn around before I fired, but it didn't seem advisable at the time. Okay? As for the other guy, he had the collar in his pocket, and I didn't think he should be allowed to reach his car with it. Again, rotating him so the bullet hole would be in front wasn't exactly feasible, or didn't seem so to me. I wasn't aware that it was a detail of earthshaking importance."