"It would be nice," she replied dreamily. "Perhaps some day. We're very busy right now. We'll be flying mostly. Or in air-conditioned meeting rooms." She was drowsy. The pale gray first light of dawn was easing the blackness when she directed him to stop near an older ten- or twelve-room house. He parked behind a screen of shrubbery. He decided against trying to pump her further — Jerry Deming was making good progress in all departments and it would be senseless to ruin everything by pushing too hard.
He kissed her for several minutes. She whispered, "It's been great fun, Jerry. Think about whether you'd like me to put you in touch with my cousin. 1 know there's real money in the way he handles oil."
"I've decided. I want to meet him."
"Good. Call me week after next."
And she was gone.
He enjoyed the drive back to the apartment. You could think when a fresh, still cool day was breaking and the traffic was light. A milkman waved at him when he braked to let him cross and he waved heartily back.
He considered Ruth and Jeanyee. They were angle-shooters from a long line of promoters. You hustled or you starved. They could want a Jerry Deming because he appeared to be a hard-nosed, experienced type in a business where money poured in if you had any luck at all. Or they could be his first valuable contacts with something both complex and deadly.
He set the alarm for 11:50 a.m. When he awakened he started the swift Farberware percolator and called Ruth Moto.
"Hi, Jerry…" She didn't sound ill.
"Hi. Sorry you felt badly last night. All better now?"
"Yes. I woke up feeling perfectly grand. I hope I didn't annoy you by leaving, but I might have been sick if I stayed. Certainly poor company."
"As long as you feel well again everything is fine. Jeanyee and I had a nice time." Oh, man, he thought, you can put that in lights. "How about dinner this evening to make up for your wasted night?"
"Love it."
"By the way — Jeanyee tells me she has a cousin in the oil business and I might fit in somehow. I don't want you to feel that I'm putting you on the spot, but — do you know if she and her business connections are solid?"
"You mean — can you trust Jeanyee's judgment?"
"Yes, that's it."
There was a silence. Then she replied, "I think so. She may get you closer to — your field."
"O.K., thanks. And what are you doing next Wednesday night?" The urge to ask the question came to Nick as he remembered Jeanyee's plans. What if several of the mysterious girls were going away on "business?" "I'm going to an Iranian do at the Hilton — like to go?"
She sounded genuinely regretful. "Oh Jerry, I'd love to, but I'm going to be tied up all week."
"All week! Are you going away?"
"Well — yes, I'll be out of town most of the week."
"It'll be a dull week for me," he said. "See you about six, Ruth. Pick you up at your home?"
"Please."
After he hung up he sat down on the carpet in the lotus position and began a run-through of Yoga breathing and muscular control exercises. He had progressed — after some six years of practice — to the point where he could look at the pulse in the wrist upturned on his bent knee and see it quicken or slow down as he willed it After fifteen minutes he deliberately turned his mind back to the problem of the strange deaths, the Baumann Ring, and Jeanyee and Ruth. He liked both the girls. They were strange in certain ways, but the unique and different had always intrigued him. He ran through the events in Maryland, Hawk's comments and Ruth's odd illness at the Cushing dinner. You could make a pattern out of them, or you could admit that the linking threads might all be coincidence. He could not recall feeling quite so helpless on a case… with a choice of answers but nothing to check them against.
He dressed in maroon slacks and a white polo shirt and went down and drove him toward Gallaudet College in the Bird. He followed New York Avenue, turned right on Mt. Olivet and saw the man waiting for him at the junction with Bladensburg Road.
The man had the double invisibility of complete ordinariness plus a shabby, slump-shouldered dejection which caused you to subconsciously pass him by quickly in order that the poverty or unhappiness of his world should not invade your own. Nick stopped, the man climbed in quickly and he drove on toward Lincoln Park and the John Philip Sousa Bridge.
Nick said, "When I saw you I wanted to buy you a square meal and tuck a five-dollar bill in your shabby pocket."
"You may," Hawk replied. "I haven't had lunch. Pick up some hamburgers and milks at that place near the Naval Annex. We can eat them in the car."
Although Hawk did not acknowledge the compliment, Nick knew he enjoyed it. The older man could do wonders with a shabby jacket Even a pipe or cigar or old hat could change his appearance completely. It was not the object… Hawk had the knack of becoming old and worn and dejected, or arrogant and stiff and pompous, or dozens of other types. He was an expert at genuine disguise. Hawk could disappear because he became everyman.
Nick described his evening with Jeanyee."…then I took her home. She'll be away next week. I think Ruth Moto will be too. Could they all be getting together somewhere?"
Hawk took a slow sip of milk. "Took her home at dawn, eh?"
"Yes."
"Oh, to be young again and out in the field. You entertain beautiful girls. Alone with them for — would you say four or five hours? I slave in a dull office."
"We talked about Chinese jade," Nick said blandly. "It's her hobby."
"I happen to know Jeanyee's hobbies include some with more action."
"So you don't spend all your time in the office. Which disguise did you use? I'd guess something like Clifton Webb in the old movies on TV?"
"You're close. Do you youngsters good to see the polished techniques." He dropped the dead pan and chuckled. Then went on, "We have an idea where the girls may be going. There's a week-long party — it's called a business conference — at the Lord estate in Pennsylvania. Top drawer international businessmen. Primarily steel, aircraft and of course munitions."
"No oil men?"
"No. Your Jerry Deming role wouldn't go over, anyway. You've met too many people lately. But you're the man who ought to go."
"What about Lou Karl?"
"He's in Iran. Deeply involved. I wouldn't want to bring him out."
"I thought of him because he knows the steel business. And if the girls are there, any identity I take will have to be a complete cover."
"I doubt that the girls will circulate among the guests."
Nick nodded gravely, watching a DC-8 pass a smaller plane in the dense Washington pattern. At this distance they looked dangerously close. "I'll go in. It may be all a false lead, anyway."
Hawk chuckled. "If that's a try at getting my opinion it's going to work. We know about the get-together because we've been monitoring the central telephone board for six days now without more than thirty minutes off. I'd say we're smelling something big and magnificently organized. If they're responsible for the recent deaths that were allegedly natural, they're ruthless and skillful."
"You deduce all this from the phone taps?"
"Don't try to draw me out, my boy — that's been attempted by experts." Nick suppressed a grin as Hawk went on, "All the bits and pieces don't fit, but I smell a pattern. You go in there and find out how it fits together."
"If they're as smart and rough as you guess, you may have to fit me back together."
"I doubt it, Nicholas. You know what I think of your ability. That's why you're going in. If you'll take a cruise in your boat on Sunday morning I'll meet you off Bryan Point If the river is crowded, go southwest until we are alone."
"When will the technicians be ready for me?"
"On Tuesday at the garage in McLean. But I'll give you a complete briefing and most documents and maps on Sunday."