“There were no such enclosures in my file,” Depeaux said.
“Bloody hell!” Merrivale said. “Sometimes, I wonder how we ever get anything done correctly in this establishment. Very well. I’ll give you mine. Briefly, Hellstrom and his camera crews and whatnot have been all over the bloody world: Kenya, Brazil, Southeast Asia, India—it’s all in here.” He tapped the papers on his desk. “You can see for yourself later.”
“And this Project 40?” Depeaux asked.
“That’s what attracted our attention,” Merrivale explained. “The pertinent papers were copied and the originals returned to where they were found. The Hellstrom aide subsequently returned for his papers, found them where he expected, took them, and departed. Their significance was not understood at the time. Purely routine. Our man on the library staff was curious, no more, but the curiosity became increasingly intense as the papers were bounced upstairs. Unfortunately, we’ve not had the opportunity to observe this particular Hellstrom aide since that moment. He apparently is keeping to the farm. It is our belief, however, that Hellstrom is unaware that we know about his little project.”
“The speculation seems a little like science fiction, more than a little fantastic,” Depeaux said.
Janvert nodded his agreement. Were those explicit suspicions the real reason the Agency was prying into Hellstrom’s affairs? Or was it possible that Hellstrom was merely developing a product that threatened one of the groups that actually paid most of the Agency’s expenses? You never knew in this business.
“Haven’t I heard of this Hellstrom before?” Carr asked. “Isn’t he the entomologist who came out against DDT when—”
“That’s the chap!” Merrivale said. “Pure fanatic. Now, here’s the farmstead plan, Carlos.”
So much for my question, Carr thought. She curled her legs under her in the wing chair, glanced openly at Janvert, who returned her stare with a grin. He’s just been playing with Merrivale, she realized, and he thinks I’m in the game.
Merrivale had a blueprint map on his desk now, unfolding it, indicating features on it with his long, sensitive fingers. “Barn here - outbuildings—main house. We have every reason to believe, as those reports indicate, that the barn is Hellstrom’s studio. Curious concrete structure here near the entrance gate. Can’t say what purpose it serves. Your job to find out.”
“And you don’t want us to go right in, nose around,” Depeaux said. He frowned at the blueprint map. This decision puzzled him. “The young woman who tried to get away—”
“Yes, that was March 20 last,” Merrivale said. “Porter saw her run from the barn. She got as far as the north gate here when she was apprehended by two men who came upon her from beyond the fence. Their point of origin was not determined. They did, however, return her to the barn-studio.”
“Porter’s account says these people weren’t wearing any clothes,” Depeaux said. “It seems to me that a report to the authorities giving a description of—”
“And we’d have had to explain why we were there, send our one man up against numerous Hellstrom accomplices, all of this in the presence of the new morality that permeates this society.”
You damned hypocrite! Carr thought. You know how the Agency uses sex for its own purposes.
Janvert leaned forward in his chair and said, “Merrivale, you’re holding something back in this case. I want to know what it is. We have Porter’s report, but he’s not here to amplify it. Is Porter available?” He sat back. “A simple yes or no will suffice.”
That’s a dangerous tack to take, Eddie, Carr thought. She watched Merrivale intently to measure his response.
“I can’t say I care for your tone, Shorty,” Merrivale said.
Depeaux leaned back, put a hand over his eyes.
“And I can’t say I care for your secrecy,” Janvert said. “We would like to know the things that are not in these reports.”
Depeaux dropped his hand, nodded. Yes, there were some things about this case . . .
“Impatience is not seemly in good agents,” Merrivale said. “However, I can understand your curiosity, and the need-to-know rule has not been applied in this case. Peruge was specific on that. What has our wind up, as it were, is not just this Project 40 thing, but the accumulation of items, the indications that Hellstrom’s film activities are actually (he pronounced it exshooly, and once more for emphasis)—actually a cover for serious and highly subversive political activities.”
Bullshit! Janvert thought.
“How serious?” Carr asked.
“Well—Hellstrom has been nosing around the Nevada atomic-testing area. He conducts entomological researches, as well, you see. His films are offered under the guise of documentary productions. He has had atomic materials for his so-called researches and—”
“Why so-called?” Janvert asked. “Isn’t it possible he’s just what he—”
“Impossible!” Merrivale snorted. “Look, it’s really all in the reports here. Observe especially the indications that Hellstrom and his people may be interested in forming some sort of new communal society. It’s quite provocative. He and his film crew live that sort of life wherever they go—off to themselves, clubby—and their preoccupation with the emerging African nations, the numerous visits to the Nevada testing area, the ecology thing with its highly inflammatory nature, the—”
“Communist?” Carr interrupted.
“It’s—ahhh—possible.”
Janvert said, “Where’s Porter?”
“That - ahh—” Merrivale pulled at his chin. “That’s a bit sticky. I’m sure you understand the delicacy of our position in all of—”
“I don’t understand it,” Janvert said. “What’s happened to Porter?”
“That’s one of the things we hope Carlos can ascertain,” Merrivale said.
Depeaux turned a speculative look on Janvert, returned his attention to Merrivale, who had sunk back into apparent concentration on the blueprint map.
“Porter’s missing?” Depeaux asked.
“Somewhere around this farm,” Merrivale said. He looked up as though just noticing Depeaux. “Presumably.”
From recorded comments of brood mother Trova Hellstrom.
Some threat is good for a species. It tends to stimulate breeding, to raise the level of awareness. Too much, however, can have a stupefying effect. It is one of the tasks of Hive leadership to adjust the level of stimulating threat.
As the sun moved lower behind him on the hill above Guarded Valley, Depeaux took care that the light did not outline him. There were both advantages and disadvantages in such light. It tended to throw some details of the farm into relief—the fencelines, the paths on the opposite hillside, the weathered boards on the barn’s western face.
There still had not been one sign of human activity outside the buildings and no sure indication of humans within them. The irritating hum continued to issue from the barn and Depeaux had exhausted his speculations on what it might be. He had opted tentatively for air conditioning and wished he could enjoy that relief from the hot afternoon in the dusty grass.
A long, cold drink, that’s what I need, he told himself.
The fact that the farm fitted all of the reports and the descriptions (including Porter’s) did not really say anything for it.
Depeaux scanned the valley once more through his binoculars. There was a peculiar waiting air to the emptiness of the place, as though forces were being marshaled to fill the farm with life.
Depeaux wondered what Hellstrom did with his farm’s products. Why was the entire area so devoid of human activity? There’d been no vacationers or picnickers on the dirt road to the valley—although the area seemed attractive enough. Why were the Fosterville residents so closemouthed about Hellstrom’s farm? Porter had been intrigued by this, too. This was a hunting area, but Depeaux had seen no deer sign and not one hunter. The stream obviously held no attraction for fishermen, but still . . .