I checked with the desk to see whether there were any messages. There weren’t so I used a house phone to call Max Spivey. “I’m downstairs,” I told him. “Because of this weather and one other thing maybe you’d better turn the money over to me now.”
“I’ll be right down,” he said.
I waited for him at the elevator and after he got there we went over to the desk and Spivey asked for and was given the suitcase. Before he handed it to me he said, “You mentioned one other thing.”
I nodded. “There’s a Washington cop who wants me to take him with me. I don’t want to, so I may have to leave early to make sure that he’s not tagging along. Also I don’t know what this snow will do. It may make them want to move the switch up to an earlier time. If they do, it could be pretty short notice so I thought I’d better get the money now.”
“It’s all yours,” he said and handed the suitcase over.
“I’ll sign something if you want me to.”
He shook his head. “No need. You want to have dinner?”
“I’d better stick by the phone in case they call. I’ll have something sent up.”
“Anything else I can do?” he said.
“I can’t think of anything. I’ll check with you before I leave. Will you be in your room?”
He nodded.
“Okay. Then I’ll go on up.”
Spivey said he wanted to pick up something to read so I rode the elevator up alone. Once inside the room I locked and bolted the door and put the money in the closet. After that I ran some water into the tub as hot as I could stand it, eased down into it, and thought about the absurdity of my calling. I decided that if it were nothing else, it was good experience. I could always get a job as a Western Union messenger, providing that Western Union still used messengers, which I wasn’t at all sure that it did. I tried to remember the last time that a messenger had delivered a telegram to me and what his uniform had looked like, but I couldn’t. By then the water had grown cool so I got out of the tub, dried off, got dressed, and turned on the television set. It was time for the evening network news and I watched Walter Cronkite, as avuncular as ever, reduce complicated stories to twenty-five oversimplified words or less.
When the news was over I called room service and ordered a roast beef sandwich, a glass of milk, and a pot of coffee. When they came I sat there and ate and watched some more television and thought about nothing other than how awful it was and always is.
At ten I rose, went over to the window, and looked out. It was still snowing as hard or perhaps even harder than before. I turned, picked up the phone, and called Max Spivey. After he answered, I said, “This is St. Ives. I’m leaving.”
“Aren’t you a little early?”
“I don’t think so,” I said. “Not with this weather.”
“Well, hell, all I can say is good luck.”
“I’ll check with you when I get back.”
“Do that.” he said.
The car was in a garage a block away. When I had left New York I hadn’t counted on snow and all I had was a light topcoat I put it on, turned the collar up, took the suitcase out of the closet and rode the elevator down to the lobby. The doorman was standing outside watching the snow come down.
“Any chance for a cab?” I said.
He shook his head. “There hasn’t been one out there in an hour.”
I looked around the lobby. It was deserted except for the hotel staff. I clutched the collar of my topcoat, ducked my head, and went out into the snow.
I suppose that it was as close to a blizzard as Washington gets. A wind had come up out of the north and drove the flakes into my face as I walked up Sixteenth Street. I could see a yard in front of me, possibly two. I looked back a couple of times but there was nothing to see but more snow. There seemed to be almost no cars in the street.
By the time I got to the garage I was half frozen. I took my topcoat off and shook it to remove the snow. When I gave the black attendant my parking ticket he said, “You ain’t goin’ out in this shit, are ya?”
“I’m a doctor,” I said.
He went off to get the Ford. I could hear him start the engine and then there was a clicking sound which was the chains that I had ordered put on when I rented it. The attendant pulled the car up in front of me and got out. I gave him fifty cents, reached in and got the keys, cutting off the engine. I went back and unlocked the trunk and put the suitcase in it and slammed down the lid.
The attendant was still hanging around when I got in the car. “You gotta operate tonight?” he said.
I nodded. “Brain tumor.”
“Jesus,” he said.
I don’t know why I bothered to lie to him. Perhaps because the reason that I gave for my going out into that snow made us both feel better. At least it made sense.
I turned left and drove down I Street until I came to Fifteenth. I turned left again, crossed K, and drove past the Washington Post and the Madison hotel. I drove slowly, not more than fifteen or twenty. There was almost no traffic except for an occasional police cruiser. It was half past ten and Washington apparently had gone to bed early. It usually holds out until eleven.
On the other side of Massachusetts Avenue, Fifteenth Street became one way and I pulled over into the left lane. The windshield wipers were doing a good job of getting rid of most of the snow and the rear window was being kept fairly clear by its beating element.
I turned left on R Street, which was also one way, drove a block, and pulled over to the curb. A car went past me and disappeared into the snow. I started up again, found a driveway, turned into it, and backed out, now going the wrong way on R Street. I drove slowly and carefully until I reached Fifteenth again and then turned left. There was no traffic, at least none I could see.
After that I drove aimlessly, turning left and then right after every few blocks. By a quarter to eleven I found myself on Wisconsin Avenue in Georgetown. On the left was a hamburger place that had tables at its window. I parked the car and went in.
It was one of those places that are self-service. I got a cup of coffee and carried it over to one of the window tables. There was nobody in the place except for the two kids who ran it and who kept arguing with each other about how soon they could close up and go home.
I sat there for three-quarters of an hour and drank three cups of coffee. A few cars went by outside, but not many. There were almost no pedestrians. I checked the city map that the Hertz people had given me and figured out my route. At 11:30 I went out, brushed the snow off the windshield and got back into the car.
It was snowing even harder than before. I drove east on M Street through Georgetown until I came to Twenty-third Street and turned south. I kept driving, went around a traffic circle, and on past the State Department until I came to the Lincoln Memorial. After I went around the memorial Twenty-third Street was supposed to turn into something called Ohio Drive. I found it, or hoped that I did, and after crossing a small bridge I drove for another five minutes. I looked at my watch. It was six minutes until twelve. I stopped the car and waited four minutes. Then I drove slowly on for two minutes more until Ohio Drive started to bend sharply left, which meant that I was where I was supposed to be, at Haines Point. I saw the car a moment later. It was parked and its lights were off. It should have been a green or a blue Chevrolet, but because of the snow I couldn’t be sure. I decided that it would have to do. I stopped my own car, put it in reverse, and backed up slowly until I was what I hoped was fifty feet away. I looked at my watch. It was exactly midnight.
I switched off the Ford’s headlights, remembered the flashlight that I had bought earlier, took it out of the glove compartment, got out of the car, went around to the rear, and opened the trunk. I stood there and listened. I’m not sure what I was listening for because there was nothing to hear other than my own breathing.