«You may be entitled to that honor, sir, but it would never come from anyone associated with the Nobel committee.»
«What?»
«Let me spell it out for you so there’s no misunderstanding.»
«Are you, by chance, an attorney?» interrupted Aaron Pinkus.
«No, but among other pursuits, I am a chemist.»
«A chemist?» asked the further-stunned Hawkins. «Then what the hell do you know about anything?»
«Well, I’m certainly not in a class with Alfred Nobel, who was also a chemist, and who also invented dynamite, and who—many believe—to assuage his guilt over that invention, created the Nobel awards, not one of which would ever be associated with war. The concept of a Soldier of the Century would be anathema to the Nobel committee.»
«So what precisely are you saying, Cyrus?» interjected Jennifer.
«An extension of what I told you this morning. This is the trap to pull in General Hawkins—»
«You know my name?» cried MacKenzie.
«He knows your name, Mac, let it go,» said Devereaux.
«How?»
«Forget it, General,» replied Redwing. «For the moment, he’s my witness… Okay, Cyrus, it’s a trap. What else? And from the tone of your voice, I’d say there was something else.»
«This isn’t minor-league lunatics with Alexander the Great complexes any longer. This operation is solo and comes from some son-of-a-bitch top gun in the government.»
«Washington?» asked an incredulous Aaron Pinkus.
«Someone in Washington,» refined the mercenary. «Not a collective effort, too much danger of leaks for that, but a highly placed authority who can mount this on his own.»
«Why do you say that?» persisted Aaron.
«Because the Nobel committee in Sweden is pure, and to make it even temporarily impure would take the office of a very important person. After all, any respectable journalist could reach Stockholm and get a confirmation. I suspect that confirmation has already been given.»
«Oh, boy!» exclaimed Sam Devereaux. «This is hardball.»
«I believe I said as much this morning.»
«You also told me that you were thinking of pulling yourself and Roman Z out of here once those trip things with the lithium things were in place… They’re in place, Cyrus. What now? Are you going to leave us?»
«No, Counselor, I’ve changed my mind. We’re staying.»
«Why?» asked Jennifer Redwing.
«I suppose you expect some profound racial statement, like how we niggers had to survive the Klan by developing a sixth sense and get damned upset when the government behaves in like fashion. That’s voodoo.»
«Hey, don’t the big guy talk good?» interrupted Mrs. Lafferty.
«Later, dear Erin,» said Redwing, her attention on Cyrus. «All right, Mr. Mercenary, no racial voodoo, which I know something about. Why are you staying?»
«Is it important?»
«It is to me.»
«I can understand that,» said Cyrus, smiling.
«I don’t understand a goddamned thing!» exploded MacKenzie Hawkins, crushing a cigar in his fingers as he put it into his mouth.
«Then let the gentleman answer,» rejoined Aaron Pinkus. «If you’ll forgive me, General, please shut the hell up.»
«One commander does not give such an order to another!»
«Oh, blow it out your ass,» said Aaron, suddenly shaking his head, as if wondering where the words had come from. «Good heavens, I’m terribly sorry!»
«Don’t be,» broke in Sam. «You were saying, Cyrus?»
«Okay, Counselor,» said the mercenary, looking at Devereaux. «How much have you and the lady told the others?»
«Everything you told us, except it wasn’t the others, just Aaron. We didn’t include Mac or his ‘adjutants’ or my mother here—»
«Why the hell not tell me?» shouted the general. «… whatever the hell it is you’re not talking about!»
«We needed more to go on before you began issuing orders,» replied Sam curtly, turning back to Cyrus. «Also, we included your difficulties in Stuttgart and the aftereffects. Your ‘release’ from prison, as it were.»
«It doesn’t matter. If this is the mess I think it is and Roman Z and I can help you, I have an idea you won’t use it against us.»
«You have my word on that,» insisted Redwing.
«I didn’t hear a thing,» added Devereaux.
«You wouldn’t have,» said the mercenary pointedly. «Your questions were clumsy, while Miss R.’s were direct and made sense. She made it plain that in order to believe me, she needed some background credibility. I simply gave it to her.»
«It’s all hearsay and inadmissible, as far as I’m concerned,» said Pinkus.
«My interrogations are never clumsy,» mumbled Sam.
«Well, you had a lot on your mind … as well as your trousers,» said Jennifer quietly. «You say your decision to stay isn’t racial, Cyrus, but no one brought up that point but you. Are you protesting too much? You were a black man wrongfully convicted; if it happened to me, an Indian, I’d be mad as hell and stay mad for a long time. I’d want to strike back at any symbol of authority and I’m not sure the cause would matter. Is that why you’re staying?»
«Your psychology’s sound but it’s not applicable. Basically, my plea of self-defense notwithstanding, I was put in jail, not because I was black, but because I was one hell of a chemical engineer. Now, maybe a few idiots in Stuttgart figured that a Schwarzer wasn’t capable of analyzing their final stage of synthesizing compounds—»
«Boy, he’s something» cried Mrs. Lafferty.
«Please, dear Erin.»
«Nevertheless,» continued Cyrus. «The order for that end-user contract was approved by the head honcho of the Arms Control Commission, whom I had personally alerted in writing through a diplomatic relay I never met. One big lousy government appointee with his hand in the till never let my initial suspicions reach the rest of the commission. I was—forgive the term—blacked out, and it had nothing to do with my color, because analytical reports do not include such information.»
«How is your experience in Stuttgart related to this evening’s press conference at Logan Airport?» asked Pinkus.
«Coupled with everything I told your associates about the strange circumstances of this assignment, I have to go back to that sixth sense I denied, because this isn’t race-oriented—it’s corruption-oriented, government corruption. One powerful man in arms control was capable of getting my black butt out of a German prison, where it would have stayed for fifty years if it lasted a month, by pressuring the Bonn courts and cutting a deal with me. Suddenly, there was silence, the voice of the turtle was the only sound heard about that chemical plant, and my bargain was to draw five and serve maybe one if I kept my mouth shut—all for appearances. And don’t tell me palms weren’t greased.»
«But you did cut the deal,» said Jennifer, not kindly. «A convenient plea bargain.»
«I wasn’t too tickled over being the only black in a German prison where a lot of the inmates are skinhead maniacs waiting for Adolf to rise from the dead.»
«I’m sorry, I understand. We, too, have developed a sixth sense.»
«No, please, don’t apologize,» protested the mercenary softly. «When I saw those films on the prison television, all those people put down by the chemicals I knew about, I was ashamed of myself.»
«Hey, come on, Colonel—»
«For God’s sake, stop that, Counselor. I’m no colonel.»