He wondered what the authorities would make of an aircraft that crashed in the foothills of the Pennsylvania Alleghenies, without warning, far off-course, and with its passenger a mushy heap in New Jersey. His laughter broke the stillness of the spring night.
Thorpe stuffed his parachute into its pack and extended the aerial of a homing transmitter. He sat on a mound of sand, dabbed at his bloody nose, then broke out a bag of chocolate kisses and waited for the helicopter.
This night had two final victims to claim, and like a slaughterer in an abattoir, he had to work fast before the sheep became panicky and stampeded.
At least, he thought, he was helping to eliminate suspects.
30
The small LOH helicopter carrying Peter Thorpe landed at the West 30th Street Heliport on the Hudson River. Thorpe finished changing into sport jacket, tie, and slacks.
The pilot, under contract to Lotus Air, a CIA proprietary company, knew neither his passenger’s name nor his mission. Neither had he exchanged a single word with him, nor had he even looked at him. If in a week, or a year, the news reported a body found with an unopened parachute in the Jersey Pine Barrens, the pilot would put two and two together and come up with zero.
The LOH swung out over the river and disappeared into the night. Thorpe watched, then took the pack containing his gathered parachute, clothing, and rock weights, and dropped it in the river.
He walked the dark, desolate streets by the riverfront and entered a telephone booth. He dialed the Princeton Club and was connected to West. “Nick, how are you?”
“Fine.”
“Look, what are you doing now?”
“I thought I’d turn in. I have to get an early shuttle to D.C. tomorrow.”
“Let me buy you a drink.”
“I’m really not up for a drink.”
“We’ll make it an early evening. I’m really in the mood for a Negroni, and I hate to drink alone.”
There was a short silence, then West’s voice came back on the line. “All right… yes… where… when?”
“Meet you at my club. I’ll be there in ten minutes.” Thorpe hung up.
Peter Thorpe entered the Yale Club and sat on a small sofa beside West, who was staring at a martini on the coffee table. Thorpe ordered a Negroni and gave West a sidelong glance. He said, “I was afraid you wouldn’t remember the code word.”
West looked at Thorpe, and focused on the small butterfly bandage covering his left nostril, but didn’t comment on it.
Thorpe spoke softly. “Look, Nick, this Talbot thing has really stirred up a hornet’s nest. You should lay low for a while.”
West nodded, then found his voice and said, “Who… them or us?”
“Our people. Langley has been on full alert all weekend. You know how it is. They start making decisions right and left, getting themselves all hyper. They made a decision about you.”
“What…?”
“Well, they don’t actually plan to eliminate you, but they will put you in the mountains… you may be there some time.”
West’s eyes seemed more alert. “Then maybe I should just report in and—”
“No. Don’t do that.”
“But… I don’t mind being put on ice.”
“If you knew what they do to people in the mountains, you might think differently.”
West stared at Thorpe with a mixture of curiosity and dread. “What…?”
Thorpe said, “Finish your drink.” The Negroni came and Thorpe tasted it. “Not bad. I’ve never had one. Look, Nick, for the sake of appearances can you try to smile a bit and get some color in your face?”
West sipped on his martini.
Thorpe said, “Are you carrying?”
“No.”
“Vest?”
“No… I don’t wear that.”
“How about a signal transmitter?”
West touched his belt buckle. “Micro-miniature. I can be tracked by air, auto, or ground receiver.”
“Is it activated now?”
“No. Why should it be?”
“How do you activate it?”
West licked his lips. “You just grip it, top and bottom, and squeeze. It’s got spring bars, like a wristwatch.”
“Are you wired for sound?”
“No.”
Thorpe knew West wasn’t wired, because Thorpe was carrying a bug alert and it hadn’t picked up anything.
He stared at West for some time, then said, “L-pills?”
West nodded. “Always.”
“Where? What form?”
West hesitated, then tapped his class ring.
Thorpe glanced at West’s Princeton ring. “Pill compartment?”
“No… the stone… cyanide suspended in rock sugar, colored with dye to match onyx. Thin coat of polyurethane to keep it shiny and keep it from melting… You bite it—”
“And death is, as they say, instantaneous.” Thorpe smiled. “What will those jokers think of next? Is that the only poison?”
West shook his head. “A conventional capsule. I forgot it. It’s in my room.”
Thorpe smiled. “You’d forget your ass if it wasn’t nailed on.”
“Tell me more about the mountains,” West said.
Thorpe stared straight ahead as he spoke. “You go into the mountains as Nicholas West. You come out somebody else.”
“That’s the New Identity Program.”
“Not quite. They go a bit further than plastic surgery and a new driver’s license, my friend. Electric shock treatment, drugs, and hypnosis. By the time they’re through with your brain, you’re neutralized.”
West stared, wide-eyed.
Thorpe continued. “This is the new meaning of neutralized. No more wet stuff for our own people if you haven’t committed a crime. Just a little memory alteration so you’re not a walking encyclopedia anymore.”
West slumped back onto the sofa. “Oh… Good Lord… they can’t do that.”
“Right. It’s illegal, and they’d never violate your civil rights. But let’s suppose they would. Then what you have to do is go underwater for a while. Keep your brain out of their hands.”
West finished his martini. “When… when do I have to—”
“When? Tonight! There is no tomorrow.”
West said, “My things…?”
“Things? What things?”
“You know… clothes… books…”
Thorpe laughed. “If you let them take you to the mountains, you won’t even remember your name, let alone what you own. Don’t worry about idiot details. On the other hand, you do need some insurance policies for yourself. If you had insurance, tucked away, spring-loaded to be released under certain circumstances, then you could call your own shots.”
West rubbed his face. “I can’t get any insurance now.”
Thorpe considered a moment, then said, “Maybe you could get into your office early in the morning, act natural, collect some documents — maybe some computer printouts — then run.”
West was quiet for a long time, then looked up. “Maybe, if I could access my department’s computer from here… from your computer at the Lombardy…”
Thorpe nodded slowly, but said nothing.
West glanced at him. “I guess that’s the way to do it.”
“Seems like it.”
“But… how could we… I… do that? The entry would leave an audit trail, leading right back to you.”
Thorpe replied, “Would it?”
“Yes. It’s very secure. It will record your entry, plus the information that was accessed, and identify your computer station. Langley will see it immediately.”
Thorpe spoke in a casual tone. “Once I’m into your computer, I can do whatever the hell I goddamned please. If I can get in, I can erase all evidence of my penetration on my way out.”