Thorpe stretched his arms and legs. “I’m having sympathetic muscle cramps.” He laughed, then added, “Actually, Nick, I don’t think O’Brien and Company completely bought that. Neither did my people in the Company. You see, Nick, as far as I can determine, the Russians have an obsession with the concept of troika — the three-horse sleigh. They are fascinated by the trinity — three acting as one.”
West stared at Thorpe and tried to think clearly. Thorpe was onto something. Just as Thorpe had always underestimated him because of his physical frailty, so, because of Thorpe’s physical power, he, West, underestimated Thorpe’s powers of deduction, intuition, and comprehension.
Thorpe cracked his knuckles and looked down at West. “Therefore,” he continued, “they actually formulated three independent plans to cripple or destroy America. The first was the nuclear destruction of the financial center. The second, which I was led to believe, was the accessing of all American computers — civilian and military — and the simultaneous destruction, altering, or stealing of everything stored in the memory banks.”
Thorpe rubbed his chin reflectively, then said, “And now, Nick, you and I have touched on this third plan, which I believe is the one they are going with. The other two plans seemed real to those of us who discovered them, because they were and perhaps still are real options. Nothing lies like the truth. And so all the resources of Western intelligence, including you and me, Nick, and including private analysts such as O’Brien and Company, were mobilized to uncover the details of these two plans. But somewhere along the line, O’Brien got to thinking. He realized there was a third plan. And he began operating on that premise. He received information that the Russians were acquiring certain exotic types of Western electronic technology. He alerted the government to his initial findings. And that warning leaked back to the Russians. So, we all find ourselves in a quandary. The Russians are trying to figure out how much the United States really knows and how good their defenses are. The United States is trying to figure out if the blow is going to come to the face, the stomach, or the groin, or not at all. And wondering if maybe they shouldn’t strike first.”
Thorpe looked down at West. “When we are through here, Nick, we will know who, how, and where. We already know when — July Fourth. We know why — because as a result of a sort of political Darwinism, the world today has been reduced to two dominant species. Only one of them can survive.”
West drew a deep breath. “You’re mad… Why do you feel this need to dominate…?
“Why do you feel the need not to?” Thorpe lit a cigarette and drew it thoughtfully, then said, “Anyway, the final problem in Moscow is this Talbot business.” Thorpe reached down and picked up a leather dispatch case. “This is what Colonel Carbury was carrying.” He upturned the case and dumped the contents across West’s stomach and chest. “A diary and personal letters from the late Ann Kimberly to the late Major Henry Kimberly. The late Mr. O’Brien and his people would have found this diary very useful in uncovering Talbot, who was, after all, one of their own.”
Thorpe lifted the diary from West’s chest. “Or should I say three of their own? Yes, like you, Henry Kimberly concluded that there were perhaps three highly placed traitors. We will read this diary together and try to deduce what Major Kimberly deduced.” “The one described as a high-ranking officer in OSS counter
“Go to hell.”
Thorpe continued, “Kimberly seemed to know who these traitors were, but he never wrote the names, using only the expressions Talbot One, Two, and Three, like some ancient Hebrew who would not write or say the name of God.”
Thorpe opened the diary and read an entry: “‘I have narrowed down the names of OSS officers who could have been responsible for betraying us to the Russians. One of them is a close Donovan aide, and known to me. The other, a ranking officer in OSS counterintelligence, is a dear friend. The third is an OSS officer in the political section, a man who will assuredly go on to a political career after the war. Which one is Talbot? Perhaps all of them.’” Thorpe looked up. “End of entry.”
Thorpe put the diary aside. “You know, Nick, if this diary had found its way into O’Brien’s hands, or the hands of the CIA, it would have precipitated a massive investigation that may have led to the identity of Talbot. But once again, God was on the side of the atheists, and this message from the grave will remain undelivered.” Thorpe looked down at West, then focused on the analyzers. “Did you follow what I said?”
“Yes.”
“Could my adoptive father, James Allerton, be the dear friend?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have any theories on the other two? Could one or both still be alive?”
“The one described as a high-ranking officer in OSS counter-intelligence.”
“And the one described as a potential politician?”
“Don’t know… I have no information on him.”
“What is the name of the high-ranking officer?”
“I… I’m not certain… I have several names that would fit…”
“Give me the names.”
West said, “Give me a treat.”
Thorpe laughed, then said, “Do you want your pipe?”
“Yes.”
Thorpe took West’s pipe from the instrument table and packed the tobacco tightly. He put the stem in West’s mouth and held a lighter to the bowl.
West drew deeply.
Thorpe said, “This is not your tobacco, of course. That was laced with nicotine alkaloid. So if you’re wondering why you’re not dying, that’s the reason.”
West squinted up at Thorpe as he continued to draw on the pipe.
Thorpe said, “You held out on me, you sneaky bastard. I asked you about poisons.”
West suddenly bit into the stem of the pipe, crunching it between his teeth.
Thorpe pulled the pipe out of West’s mouth and said, “No, no, Nick. I changed the stem, too. Do you think I’m as big an asshole as you are? I’ve been around the block, buddy. Now you’ve lost your smoking privileges.” He set down the pipe.
West’s body was shaking as tears rolled down his face.
Thorpe grabbed West’s ear and pulled his face toward him. “Look, bozo, I’m a pro. You’re an amateur. You can’t beat me, so forget it. You are utterly helpless and defenseless. You are at my mercy. You will lose your soul here, and your heart. When I’m through with you, your ego will be nonexistent. You will not even have enough free will left to commit suicide. But I’ll save you the trouble. Kate will not be so lucky. I’m going to let her live on, as sort of a domesticated house pet.”
West raised his head and spoke softly. “You will pay for this… somehow, in some way… you will be punished… ”
Thorpe smiled. “When a prisoner starts getting mystic and religious, that’s a sign that he’s about had it. I’ll break you sooner than I thought.”
West put his head back on the table and began to sob.
Thorpe gathered the contents of the dispatch case and shut off the polygraph. “I’m afraid I have to go out again. Amuse yourself. I’ll be back shortly.”
“Fuck you.”
Thorpe reached out and held the dial of the transformer. “Not telling me that pipe smoking may be dangerous to your health was a lie of omission, which unfortunately does not always register on the analyzers. Nonetheless, it was a lie—”
“No! No! Please!” West’s body began to quiver in response to a low-voltage charge passing through it. His screaming came out as a teeth-chattering stutter, as though he were freezing.