«Morpheus, Commander Y, Morpheus.»
«Yeah, him… Like from the dead across that big river, come back to haunt you pricks who think you’re so superiore, like what goes through your stomachs comes out vanilla ice cream. Yeah, fazool, I’m back from the fishes, and the sharks came with me. They give me respect; you never did.»
«Auggh!» Suddenly, with a shriek that pierced the night and disturbed the floodlit crowds at the Lincoln Memorial, the Secretary of State wriggled like a trapped reptile, sprang to his feet, and raced screaming hysterically across the grounds.
«I gotta catch that son of a bitch!» yelled Mangecavallo, getting up, but not easily, because of his weight. «He’ll spill everything!»
«Forget it!» cried the Hawk, tripping the CIA director. «He’s finished, he’s out.»
«Wadd’ya talkin’? He’s seen me!»
«It won’t matter. No one will believe him.»
«Mac, you’re not making sense!» insisted Brokey the Deuce. «Do you know who this man is?»
«Sure I do, and I’m making sense, too… So you’re really that Italian fella who ran the Agency?»
«Yeah, it’s a long story, and I don’t like long stories. I got carried away. Shit!»
«Melodramatic emotionalism is one of the finest gifts of your race, signore. Think of the great operas—no one could have created them but yourselves. Capisce Italiano?»
«Sure, I speak.»
«Lo capirete inoltre.»
«That’s beautiful, but that cannoli is going to blow apart the whole fuckin’ ball of wax!»
«No, he’s not, Signor Mangecavallo… Brokey, do you remember Frank Heffelfinger?»
«‘Finger Frank,’ with his digits on the wrong six-inchers? Who the hell wouldn’t? He blew up the wrong beaches in Wonsan. Naturally, none of us ever say anything, especially now since he’s the President’s clown prince in the navy stag department.»
«I spoke to Frank. That’s why Pease was here.»
«So?»
«The Finger’s waiting by his phone now. He’s got one other call to make. To his buddy, the President.»
«About what?»
«About Pease’s state of mind, which is the result of a very strange telephone conversation Frank had with the Secretary this afternoon. After thinking about that call all day, he’s decided to tell his friend in the White House about his concerns… Come on, we’ve got to find a phone booth. And damn quick, too, I’ve got to catch the shuttle back to New York.»
«Hey, G.I. Joe!» cried Mangecavallo. «What about you and me getting to that hearing?»
«That’s under control, Commander Y. You’ll be with the Wopotamis. Naturally, I’ll have to get your measurements, but we can do that quickly. The squaws are excellent seamstresses—almost as good as Mrs. Lafferty.»
«Squaws? We got Irish-American Indians? This guy’s pazzo!»
«Have faith, Mr. Director. The Hawk moves in mysterious ways.»
«Come, gentlemen,» ordered MacKenzie. «Triple quick-march. There’s a phone booth at the edge of the parking lot. Let’s roll!»
The three red-wigged men ran across the grounds in varying degrees of breathlessness, the only words, however, from Vinnie the Bam-Bam, who kept repeating. «Mannaggia, mannaggia! It’s all crazy! Pazzo, pazzo, pazzo!»
THE WASHINGTON POST
SECRETARY OF STATE HOSPITALIZED
TAKEN TO PSYCHIATRIC WARD
AT WALTER REED HOSPITAL
Warren Pease, Secretary of State, wearing the garb of a Catholic priest, was taken into custody last evening while running amok through the crowds at the Lincoln Memorial. According to the police, as well as witnesses, Mr. Pease kept screaming that some «specter» he could not or would not identify had «risen from the dead» and had «come back to haunt his rotten soul.» He also claimed that a «painted hermaphrodite from hell» had threatened to slash his «pockets and his throat» because he/she determined he was an (expletive deleted) which he kept screaming he was not because «he forgave her for her sins.»
The Secretary has no history of being an ordained priest or minister, and would therefore have no powers of religious absolution. (Our editors have diligently researched this fact.)
A late report from the White House, however, may shed light on this incredible event. Maurice Fitzpeddler, the press secretary, said that the nation should have only great sympathy for the stressed, overburdened Mr. Pease and his family, although when questioned, Mr. Fitzpeddler admitted that the divorced Secretary Pease had no family. Adding to this, the President allowed, through Mr. Fitzpeddler, that he had received a telephone call yesterday calling into question the state of the Secretary’s extreme stress under the pressures of his office. He asked that the nation pray for Mr. Pease’s recuperation and «his release from a straitjacket.»
It should be noted here that the President’s Chief of Staff, Arnold Subagaloo, smiled throughout the press conference. When questioned about his expression, the Chief of Staff gave the press an erect middle finger.
27
It was shortly past midnight when MacKenzie Hawkins walked into the lobby of the Waldorf-Astoria and, as arranged, went to the front desk to pick up whatever messages were left for Suite 12A—no names, merely the room number. There were two:
Call Beverly Hills.
Reach Worm City.
As it was three hours earlier in California, he decided to call Madge first in Greenwich, Connecticut. He recrossed the lobby to a pay phone.
«Midgey, I’m sorry it’s so late, but I just got in.»
«No sweat, Mac dear, I’m still working on the outline. I’ll have it finished in less than an hour, and the courier service will bring it down right away; you should have it by two-thirty. Hawk, it’s terrific! Straight boffo box office across all markets!»
«Now, Midge, don’t go sounding too Hollywood, it gets a mite hard.»
«Sorry, you’re right, darling. It’s just that everyone talks like that to work up enthusiasm for a project. The more the hype, the better the pitch.»
«March to your own drummer, girl. You’ve got too much class for that.»
«With worms, Mac?»
«Well, you were fashioning a commodity.»
«You can bank on it, and I have.»
«But I’m pleased you think the Suicidal thing’s got possibilities… frankly, I did, too.»
«Darling, it’s pure gelt!… Gold, Mac, I mean gold. Actors traveling the world over as an antiterrorist unit, and it’s real!»
«You think I could get a couple of West Coast types interested—»
«Interested?» she interrupted. «Then you haven’t talked to Ginny yet, have you?»
«No, I figured it was earlier out there, so I called you first.»
«I spoke to her late this afternoon, after I listened to the tapes, and we had a long talk. You’re in for a surprise, Mac. She’s been networking since three-thirty, California time.»
«‘Networking’? Midgey, you’re picking up some very odd language, and I’m not sure I approve. It sounds coarse.»
«No, darling, that one’s okay, it’s really standard. It’s just taking a noun and turning it into a verb.»