“You may have a change of heart. There are ways to break a man. And in the meantime here’s something else to think about. Someone among us is an informer. Blue, Gray, one of the military people, one of the agents—”
Desiree Fleming explained and he had difficulty believing until she said, “No one else knew what suite the Herchenfelders had, Sam. Yet last night there was an extra call to the room. Today, Gerald hit the right door.”
He suddenly looked defeated. “If you can’t trust your own, what’s the world coming to?”
“You’re building the weapon, Sam.”
The door opened. Gerald came a step into the room, stopped. “Doc?”
Sam stood frozen.
Gerald broke into a grin. “Come on, Doc. It’s just going to hurt a little bit.” And then he looped a fist upward that clipped the point of Doctor Samuel Herchenfelder’s jaw and dropped the scientist to the carpeting.
Desiree shot up from the bed, became mesmerized. The woman was in the doorway behind Gerald. She was smiling. She held a gun in her hand.
“Please?” she said politely.
Desiree folded back down on the edge of the bed. Sam was groaning, twitching on the carpeting. Gerald flipped Sam on his back, hooked hands in Sam’s armpits and pulled him from the room. The woman nodded to Desiree.
“Breathe easy, dear,” and closed the door again.
Desiree had the sinking feeling that she had seen Doctor Samuel Herchenfelder for the last time.
She was wrong. Ninety minutes later, Gerald came for her, took her into the front room. Sam sat stiffly in a deep chair. He looked totally confused, but unharmed. He was dressed. He was neat. The woman stood beside his chair. There was no gun in her hand now. She was smiling. She said, “All right, Gerald; return them to the hotel.”
The sedan was outside, the olive-colored man at the wheel. Gerald put Sam in the front seat again, got into the back seat with Desiree.
“Roll, Frank,” he said.
“Right.”
Desiree jerked, then shuddered. Frank’s voice was high-pitched. She was sure he was the man who had shot at her in the fog the previous night.
At the hotel, Gerald waved them out of the car. They stood together on the sidewalk. The sun was bright. People scurried around them. The sedan rolled away and disappeared in the glut of traffic. Desiree caught Sam’s arm. “Are you all right?”
He drew a breath, looked around. Suddenly he looked down at her. “I don’t understand,” he said. “I just don’t understand.”
“Don’t figure you’ve got a corner on that market, buster.”
“What time is it?”
Desiree looked at her wrist watch without thinking. “Five minutes before two.”
“My meeting!”
Sam crossed the sidewalk. She caught him in the lobby of the hotel, stopped him. “Wait a minute,” she cried out. “What happened to you back there? What did they do to you when they took you from the room?”
He looked briefly confused before he said firmly, “They gave me a shot.”
“A... what?”
“A shot with a needle. They gave me a hypodermic. I slept. In fact, I feel as if I’ve slept for a week. I feel as rested as I’ve felt in months.” He moved off.
“Sam, wait!”
He frowned at her over his shoulder, continued to stride toward the bank of elevators. “I’ve got to make the meeting, Desiree,” he said. “The others will be waiting.”
“No! Wait! Something isn’t right! Why would they give you a shot? Why did they bring us back here? Why—”
“We’ll discuss it later,” he said and entered an elevator. She darted in to stand beside him. The elevator was crowded. Neither spoke as they were lifted to the eighth floor. They were the only two to get off on eight. Sam turned down the corridor toward the suite. Desiree caught his arm.
“Sam, think!”
He frowned on her. “I am thinking. I’m thinking you suddenly have become a nuisance. Please let go of my coat.”
“Sam, you can’t go through with the meeting!”
“I... what?”
“I have a feeling, Sam! Don’t ask me what it is! I just have this feeling! It’s as if something is going to blow up in our faces!”
“You’re upset, Desiree. And confused. Nothing turned out as you expected. Nothing—”
“Sam, remember one thing! Remember that someone among us is not on our side!”
He shook her off, continued along the corridor. She dashed after him. They found the door to the suite open. Two men — one in a military uniform and the other in a business suit — lounged in the doorway. But Desiree knew they were lounging with a purpose. They were blocking the entrance.
Desiree immediately recognized both agents. They parted for Sam. He entered the suite. She went after him. The room was crowded. The buzz of idle conversation ended. She scanned the faces, recognized some as other agents.
“Sorry, gentlemen,” Sam said. “I went out for a package of cigarettes and was detained. Doctor Field hasn’t arrived?”
Why had Sam lied, and who was Doctor Field?
Desiree tugged his coat sleeve. His look was the kind he might give an annoying child.
“I have to talk to you,” Desiree pleaded in a voice just above a whisper.
He ignored her. “Gentlemen, we can begin without Doctor Field,” he said to the room. “I will present the initial phase. Doctor Field’s presence is not required for that, so if you other people, you people who are not supposed to be here will now kindly leave the suite, we can—”
“Doctor,” an agent broke in from across the room, “I think we are supposed to hang tight.”
“You can hang tight in the corridor, sir, if you must. What is to be discussed in this room in the next hour is not for general consumption.”
Agents shuffled. Eyes darted. Desiree took it in, then she blurted, “Sam, I must talk to you!”
A heavy silence descended on the room. All eyes turned to her. Sam looked at her, his face flushed, his eyes angry. But he whirled suddenly, caught her arm, marched her into a bedroom, and closed the door. “Young lady, I—”
“Who is Doctor Field?” she interrupted.
“Gray!”
“Where is he?”
“I don’t know!”
“Why did you lie to those men out there? Tell them what happened to us, Sam! Tell them! They have a right to know they might be in danger!”
“Danger?” He snorted, yanked open the bedroom door. “Out, Miss Fleming,” he said firmly. “Right on out to the corridor.”
He turned to the main room. “All of you who are not supposed to be here — but! I am in charge now. Please leave, people. Please. Take up a vigil outside our door, if you must, but please leave the room so the rest of us can get on with our business.”
There was a general shuffling. Glances were passed. Then one agent stood and left the room. Others followed. Desiree didn’t move. Sam took her arm, put her in the corridor with her cohorts, closed the door. The agents muttered, mingled, looked at each other.
Finally one said, “All right, what can possibly happen to them in there, all cooped up together like hens in a chicken house?”
And another agent asked Desiree, “What’s the matter with you, chick? What’s bugging you?”
She rattled the whole story out. The agents stood silent, listening, digesting, contemplating. They remained silent when she had finished, then one breathed, “Why a hypodermic?”
Another asked, “And why return him? They had him.”
No one had answers and a third agent finally said, “Well, they’re all snug now. Can you imagine how many governments would like to have ears in that room in the next hour and a half?”
“Can you imagine,” murmured Desiree, “what one bomb in that room right now could do to the United States?”
She stood frozen, the enormity of her own words suddenly swelling her. She squealed and broke. She slammed into the meeting room and screamed, “Everyone out! Everyone out!”