Jerry looked at him, and now he understood why the temperature in the room had changed. He whispered, “I’ll never tell anybody, I swear.”
“Now, why would I trust you?” the man asked him. “What sort of relationship have we had, you and I, that I would trust you? You’ve already told your lover friend there, haven’t you? The German boy.”
“No! I never told anyone!”
“You? A bigmouth like you?” The man seemed almost amused by him. “And the girl with you,” he said, “You couldn’t resist telling her, could you, for a sympathetic smile?”
“Honest to God, no, I never told— I never told anybody, I never will tell anybody!”
“Oh, I know that,” the man said.
“Please. Please. I swear to you, I’ll never say a word, you can trust me, not a word to anybody, I’ll never bother Curtis again. I’ll—”
“I know all that,” the man said, and stood. “I know all that, because you’re going to keep your mouth shut.” He went down on one knee beside Jerry. “You know the saying,” he said. “When you want somebody to shut up and keep shut up, what is it you say?”
He waited, but Jerry didn’t answer. Finally, almost gently, the man gave the answer himself: “Put a sock in it.”
16
Mark Hennessy.
Being driven to the office Tuesday morning, Curtis couldn’t get over how obvious it had been all along. Someone named Mark was passing along to Diedrich and Planetwatch information about Richard Curtis’s affairs. And there was Mark Hennessy, all along, right there in his main office.
Was that why it had never occurred to him that this Mark might be that Mark? There were dozens, perhaps hundreds, of his employees named or nicknamed Mark, and his suspicions had always leaped over the nearest Mark to any and all of those out there, and now he thought the reason was that this was the nearest Mark. A young man who’d worked for Curtis for eight or nine years, who had always been capable and intelligent and willing and self-effacing. One wouldn’t even think of this Mark as a traitor.
But he was. And now the question became, what to do about it.
The simple and obvious remedy would be to merely fire him, without a reference, telling the little turncoat why, and then to hire someone else in his place. Or, more likely, choose someone already in the firm to be moved up a step. That would be the simple and obvious way, but when Curtis thought back to all the trouble Planetwatch had caused him in the last several years, all made possible by this one little sneak inside his own company, it made him too angry for a mere firing to satisfy. No, there had to be more to it than that, when it came to Mark Hennessy, something that would give more satisfaction. And Curtis thought he might know just what would do the trick.
He wondered how Bennett had smoked Hennessy out. Not that he doubted the truth of it, not for a second, but he was just curious to know how Bennett had done it. The man had certainly come through, exactly as Curtis had hoped. There might even be a place for him, somewhere, in the organization, later on; time would tell. And it would be a fine further boost for Bennett’s prospects if he could also find out what Jerry Diedrich’s goddam problem was.
The office was quieter today. The Kanowit architects had gone, with ledgers full of notes, and would return in a month, with revised sets of plans. (In a month, all this other would be behind him. In a month, he would be himself again.)
So the office was quieter today, mostly because it was winding down in preparation for the boss’s departure. To Manila, most of them thought, all except the absolutely reliable Margaret. And to Manila Mark thought, too, fortunately.
Curtis told Margaret to buzz him in, and when the fellow arrived Curtis struggled to hide his disgust. “Good morning, Mark,” he said, and managed his usual easy smile.
“Morning, sir.” Mark seemed as open and boyish as ever, as guileless and as transparent.
But of course Mark had never been open and transparent, had he?
Well, Curtis could be a dissembler, too, when he needed to be. Offering his false smile to the false Mark, he said, “You know I’m off to Manila tomorrow.”
“Yes, sir, of course,” Mark said.
“You’re one of the few people I can trust, Mark,” Curtis said.
“Well, thank you, sir,” Mark said, looking both pleased and surprised. “I appreciate that.”
“I can trust you, can’t I?” Curtis asked, and was immediately afraid he’d gone too far.
But Mark’s smile redoubled, as he said, “Of course you can, sir! I hope you can always trust me.”
“I’m sure I can.” Curtis patted the rotten fellow’s arm. “So I’m going to tell you something that no one else in the office knows, except Margaret.”
Mark looked alert. “Sir?”
“I’m not actually going to Manila.”
Even more alert. “No, sir?”
“I’m in the middle of something— Mark, if my competition found out, or those goddam tree-huggers...”
“Oh, I understand,” Mark said.
“Where I’m going,” Curtis told him, “and you really must keep this under your hat—”
“Absolutely, sir.”
“Is Sydney.”
Mark was obviously startled. “Sydney?”
“I’m actually taking a flight to Sydney, tomorrow,” Curtis told him, “and the reason I’m telling you, I’ll want you to come along.”
“Sir! I’d be delighted.”
“I need somebody I can count on, while I’m there.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Our flight leaves at eleven in the morning,” Curtis said. “Margaret will help you with any paperwork you need, and a car will pick you up and bring you to Changi in the morning. See her, and then take the rest of the day off, to pack and get yourself ready.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” Mark extended his hand, which Curtis reluctantly took. “Mr. Curtis,” he said, “I do understand the faith you’re showing in me, and I assure you I’ll do my level best to live up to it.”
And be phoning Diedrich the second you get home, Curtis thought, to give him the news. And good luck to you both. “See you at Changi,” he said.
Once the little rat was out of the office, the next order of business was Bennett. Curtis called the Race Course Court Hotel, where Bennett was registered under his own name, and left a message for him to phone Richard, no number given. Then he waited, wondering where Bennett was at the moment. Finding out the truth about Jerry Diedrich, maybe. That would be good.
17
Bennett woke late, feeling languorous. It was a delicious feeling of physical contentment. He stretched and turned in the hotel bed, feeling the good sheets, the fluffy pillow, the light blanket, and the pleasant cool dryness of air-conditioned air. He felt like a man who’d just finished a long and complicated job and could now think of it as a job well done.
Of course, in truth, the job wasn’t done, not yet. Diedrich would certainly have talked about Daniel Foster with his German friend, the tall blond fellow, and with the girl. So long as they were in Singapore, so long as they existed, they were a danger to Colin Bennett, because the circumstance just might arise in which they could tell that story to Richard Curtis, and Curtis would have to believe it.
What about Mark Hennessy? He certainly must know the story, too, and he was physically closer to Curtis, he could blab it at any time. But would Curtis be likely to believe Hennessy now, to believe anything Hennessy might say? Hennessy could easily already know the story of Bennett’s downfall — most people in the company had heard about his destruction of the turbines — and Curtis would simply think Hennessy was making up the rest, to get even with the man who’d exposed him.