“Refused their protection, you mean.”
“It sounds that way. And if it’s true it means Merle’s out there in the open. Walking around loose.”
“That’s about the way I had it sized up but I’d like to know whether this guy really is Merle.”
“You get on the horn to Ordway. You tell him to bring his FBI man back in and get that photograph away from him long enough to make a copy of it. I’ve got to see that picture.”
“I’ll get right on that.”
“If they put him on the all-points sheet they must have given a reason.”
“Well it’s just a routine ‘wanted to locate’ bulletin. Agents aren’t even supposed to stop and question him. They’ve been told this Baxter is some guy who’s involved in something to do with film piracy.”
“With what?”
“Film piracy. You know, guys rip off prints of movies, then they sell them to grade-B distribution chains down South or something. It’s one of the petty rackets but the FBI’s in it because it’s interstate. The reason this FBI agent brought it to Ordway, Ordway’s involved in that racket. The word on this Baxter guy is he’s a contact man of some kind and they want to follow him to his sources.”
“It’s a cute story. Maybe it’s true — maybe Baxter’s just Baxter. I need that photograph, Ezio.”
“We’ll get it. I’ll call Ordway right after the meeting.”
Frank uncrossed his legs and put his elbows on his knees. “If it’s Merle, it means he got disgusted with the way they were protecting him. He decided he’d have a better chance on his own. Which is stupid, of course. He hasn’t got that nursemaid any more — what was his name?”
“Bradleigh.”
“He hasn’t got anybody to keep him out of trouble. He’ll make a stupid mistake. Now our problem is to be there when he makes it.”
“How?”
“On his own he’d probably do things Bradleigh would never let him do. For openers he’d probably make contact with his friends. Not anybody here in New York, that goes back too long ago, but friends he made in Los Angeles. Have you got that list?”
“Right here in the drawer.” Ezio opened it and took out the Merle file.
“Find out who his closest friends were.”
“All right.”
“Then put people on them. Bug their phones too.”
“My God, Frank, that could be an enormous operation. Cost us a fortune.”
“It’s eight of my years we’re talking about.”
“I’ll do it, Frank, but it’s up to you to convince the board. It’s their money too.”
Frank’s eyes went from point to point and suddenly shifted toward him and he felt pinned against the chair.
“Frank, all I’m saying is, if it was me I don’t think I could talk them into it. But you’re better than I am at convincing people.”
“I wish you’d put your mind on your job and find me Edward Merle.”
“We found him before. We can do it again.”
“I know you can, Ezio. I have every confidence in you.” Frank’s smile filled him with gloom.
Chapter Eleven
California: 27 August-5 September
1
When the brown Cadillac crunched to a stop Mathieson went down from the cabin to meet it. Jan went with him; Roger and Amy waited by the cabin. The two boys were inside manufacturing something out of Billy’s Erector Set.
Diego Vasquez stepped out of the car. He smiled when Mathieson introduced him to Jan. “A great pleasure indeed.” Vasquez bowed over her hand.
Jan was bemused. There was a chilly precision in Vasquez’s deep voice that was out of kilter with the elegance of his attitudes. He still made Mathieson uneasy.
They went up toward the cabin. Walking behind them, Mathieson was surprised to realize Vasquez was no taller than Jan.
There was a round of introductions. Amy was captivated at once. The boys came out to meet Vasquez and they were impressed; they were inured to celebrities but Vasquez had an odd anachronistic flamboyance. After a while Mathieson knew what it reminded him of: radio voices from the age of fustian — Murrow, Alex Dreier, Kaltenborn, Westbrook Van Voorhis. It was with transparent reluctance that Roger gathered Amy and the boys and bundled them off on the pretext of casting a pool. The four of them went down the trail into the pines, fishing poles bobbing, lugging their picnic.
“I’ve enjoyed some of his films,” Vasquez said. “I’ve never decided whether he’s a competent actor but I rather doubt that matters. He cuts an impressive figure on the screen.”
Mathieson said, “You know he was a rodeo champion before he came to Hollywood.”
“It’s more than horsemanship, I’m sure.” Vasquez settled into one of the weathered rockers and glanced up at Jan. She stood with her hands in the pockets of her sheepskin coat, one shoulder tipped against the log pillar that supported the porch overhang. She watched Vasquez with tight expectant eyes. Vasquez put his whole attention on Jan. “May I assume you concur in your husband’s decision?”
“Yes. Of course.”
“You said that a bit casually, Mrs. — what name should I use?”
“I don’t care. Suit yourself.”
“You’re tense. I’m sorry — I’m sure my presence only exacerbates that.”
She didn’t reply; she took her hands out of her pockets and folded her arms, hugging herself against the mountain chill.
Vasquez said gently, “I really ought to know how to address you.”
She glanced at her husband. “Jan Mathieson.”
“Thank you.” Vasquez tipped the rocker back, crossed his legs and folded his hands in his lap. He looked comfortable — in command, fully assured. “You’ve had nasty experiences. It’s natural that you should be troubled by great anxieties. We hope to allay those.”
“I hope you can.”
“My staff is already at work. My organization is rather unusual as you may know. You may have been misled by publicity. The news media pay attention only to climaxes. To the public I’m sure some of our operations appear reckless. I’d like to assure you that isn’t the case. It may appear otherwise but we’ve never jeopardized innocent people. The Stedman kidnapping was a case in point. The media made it appear that the boy only escaped by great good luck. This wasn’t the case. At no time was there any risk of the boy’s coming under fire. Our movements were coordinated and prepared down to the inch. We had the camp under visual and electronic surveillance for sixteen hours before the moment came when we knew the boy had been left alone, temporarily, in his hut. That was when we made our move, and our first objective was the hut itself — to make sure the boy was protected. Corralling the kidnappers was only the secondary objective. Do you follow my drift?”
“Yes.”
“The primary objective in your case is to insure the safety of you and your son. I won’t expose you or the boy to risk, and I won’t permit you to expose yourselves to it. As for your husband, he must make up his own mind as to the limits of risk; we’ll conform to his decision in the matter. You’ve decided to counterattack those who have attacked you. This ambition is laudable only if it has a reasonable chance of success. There’d be no point in approaching it as a kamikaze mission. Does this coincide with your view?”
“I suppose so.”
“You have reservations.”
“It’s a last resort, isn’t it. This whole madness. I’d be a fool if I held out much hope.”
“I understand your depression. But the forecast isn’t as bleak as you may believe.”
The wisp of a polite smile fled across Jan’s mouth. Mathieson looked away in distress.