No one else would come now. Half of Omega lay in agony in the station house; the rest in the tall, wet grass beyond the parking lot.
He wondered who it was.
Tremayne?
Cardone?
Osterman?
Tanner tore off part of his sleeve and tried to wrap it around the wound in his arm. If only he could stop the bleeding, even a bit. If he could do that perhaps he could make it across the old parking area to where the searchlight was.
But he couldn’t, and, off balance, fell backwards to the floor. He was no better off than Fassett. Both their lives would ebb away right there. Inside the ancient depot.
A wailing began; Tanner wasn’t sure if it was a trick of his brain or if it was real. Real! It was growing louder.
Sirens, then the roar of engines. Then the screeching of brakes against loose gravel and wet dirt.
Tanner rose to his elbow. He tried with all his strength to get up—only to his knees, that would be good enough. That would be sufficient to crawl. Crawl to the doorway.
The beams of searchlights filtered through the loose boards and cracked stucco, one light remaining on the entrance. Then a voice, amplified by a bullhorn.
«This is the police! We are accompanied by federal authorities! If you have weapons, throw them out and follow with your hands up!… If you are holding Tanner hostage, release him! You are surrounded. There’s no way for you to escape!»
Tanner tried to speak as he crawled toward the door. The voice sounded once again.
«We repeat. Throw out your weapons …»
Tanner could hear another voice yelling, this one not on a horn.
«Over here! Throw a light over here! By this automobile! Over here in the grass!»
Someone had found the rest of Omega.
«Tanner! John Tanner! Are you inside!?»
Tanner reached the entrance and pulled himself up by the edge of the door into the spill of light.
«There he is! Jesus, look at him!»
Tanner fell forward. Jenkins raced to his side.
«There you are, Mr. Tanner. We’ve tied you up as best we can. It’ll hold till the ambulance gets here. See if you can walk.» Jenkins braced Tanner around the waist and pulled him to his feet. Two other policemen were carrying out Fassett.
«That’s him… That’s Omega.»
«We know. You’re a very impressive fellow. You did what no one else was able to do in five years of trying. You got Omega for us.»
«There’s someone else. Over there… Fassett said he was the other part of them.»
«We found him. He’s dead. He’s still there. You want to go over and see who it is? Tell your grandchildren some day.»
Tanner looked at Jenkins and replied haltingly. «Yes. Yes, I would. I guess I’d better know.»
The two men walked over into the grass. Tanner was both fascinated and repelled by the moment that approached, the moment when he would see for himself the second face of Omega. He sensed that Jenkins understood. The revelation had to be of his own observation, not second hand. He had to bear witness to the most terrible part of Omega.
The betrayal of love.
Dick. Joe. Bernie.
Several men were examining the black automobile with the ruined searchlight. The body lay face down by the sedan’s door. In the dark, Tanner could see it was a large man.
Jenkins turned on his flashlight and kicked the body over. The beam of light shone into the face.
Tanner froze.
The riddled body in the grass was Captain Albert MacAuliff.
A police officer approached and spoke to Jenkins from the edge of the parking area.
«They want to come over.»
«Why not? It goes with their territories. The beach is secured.» Jenkins spoke with more than a trace of contempt.
«Come on!» yelled McDermott to some men in the shadows on the other side of the parking lot.
Tanner could see the three tall figures walking across the gravel. Walking slowly, reluctantly.
Bernie Osterman. Joe Cardone. Dick Tremayne.
He limped with Jenkins’ help out of the grass, away from Omega. The four friends faced each other; none knew what to say.
«Let’s go,» said Tanner to Jenkins.
«Pardon us, gentlemen.»
Part Four: Sunday Afternoon
30
Sunday afternoon in the Village of Saddle Valley, New Jersey. The two patrol cars roamed up and down the streets as usual, but they remained at cruising speeds, lazily turning into the shady roads. The drivers smiled at the children and waved at the residents doing their Sunday chores. Golf bags and tennis rackets could be seen in small foreign convertibles and in gleaming station wagons. The sun was bright; the trees and the lawns glistened, refreshed by the July storm.
Saddle Valley was awake, preparing for a perfect Sunday afternoon. Telephones were dialed, plans made, a number of apologies offered for last evening’s behavior. They were laughed off—what the hell, last evening was Saturday night. In Saddle Valley, New Jersey, Saturday nights were quickly forgiven.
A late model dark blue sedan with whitewall tires drove into the Tanner driveway. Inside the house John Tanner got up from the couch and walked painfully to the window. His upper chest and his entire left arm was encased in bandages. So, too, was his left leg, from thigh to ankle.
Tanner looked out the window at the two men walking up the path. One he recognized as Patrolman Jenkins—but only on second glance. Jenkins was not in his police uniform. Now he looked like a Saddle Valley commuter—a banker or an advertising executive. Tanner didn’t know the second man. He’d never seen him before.
«They’re here,» he called toward the kitchen. Ali came out and stood in the hallway. She was dressed casually in slacks and a shirt, but the look in her eyes wasn’t casual at all.
«I suppose we’ve got to get it over with. The sitter’s out with Janet. Ray’s at the Club… I suppose Bernie and Leila are at the airport by now.»
«If they made it in time. There were statements, papers to sign. Dick’s acting as everyone’s attorney.»
The chimes rang and Ali went to the door. «Sit down, darling. Just a little at a time, the doctor said.»
«Okay.»
Jenkins and his unfamiliar partner came in. Alice brought coffee and the four of them sat across from each other, the Tanners on the couch, Jenkins and the man he introduced as Grover in the armchairs.
«You’re the one I talked to in New York, aren’t you?» John asked.
«Yes, I am. I’m with the Agency. Incidentally, so is Jenkins. He’s been assigned here for the past year and a half.»
«You were a very convincing policeman, Mr. Jenkins,» said Ali.
«It wasn’t difficult. It’s a pleasant place, nice people.»
«I thought it was the Chasm of Leather.» Tanner’s hostility was apparent. It was time for explanations. He had demanded them.
«That, too, of course,» added Jenkins softly.
«Then we’d better talk about it.»
«Very well,» said Grover. «I’ll summarize in a few words. ‘Divide and kill.’ That was Fassett’s premise. Omega’s premise.»
«Then there really was a Fassett. That was his name, I mean.»
«There certainly was. For ten years Laurence Fassett was one of the finest operatives in the Agency. Excellent record, dedicated. And then things happened to him.»
«He sold out.»
«It’s never that simple,» said Jenkins. «Let’s say his commitments changed. They altered drastically. He became the enemy.»
«And you didn’t know it?»
Grover hesitated before replying. He seemed to be searching for the least painful words. His head nodded, imperceptibly. «We knew… We found out gradually, over a period of years. Defectors of Fassett’s caliber are never revealed overnight. It’s a slow process; a series of assignments with conflicting objectives. Sooner or later a pattern emerges. When it does, you make the most of it … Which is exactly what we did.»