The old man smiled. He had told them only about the link between Maronick and the murder in Alexandria. Imagine their anger if they realized how much more he knew! He glanced at the puzzled faces. Time to mend fences, or at least to rationalize. “Gentlemen, gentlemen, I can understand your anger. But of course you realize I had a reason for my actions.
“As you all know, I believe there is a leak in the Agency. A substantial leak, I might add. It was and is my opinion that this leak would thwart our efforts on this matter. After all, the end goal — whether we admit it or not — is to plug that very leak. Now, how was I to know that the leak was not in this very group? We are not immune from such dangers.” He paused. The men around the table were too experienced to glance at each other, but the old man could feel the tension rising. He congratulated himself.
“Now then,” he continued, “perhaps I was wrong to conceal so much from the group, but I think not. Not that I’m accusing anyone — or, by the way, that I have abandoned the possibility of the leak’s being here. I still think my move prudent. I also believe it wouldn’t have made much difference, despite what our friend from the FBI says. I think we would still be where we are today. But that is not the question, at least not now. The question is, Where do we go from here and how?”
The Deputy Director looked around the room. No one seemed eager to respond to the old man’s question. Of course, such a situation meant he should pick up the ball. The Deputy dreaded such moments. One always had to be so careful about stepping on toes and offending people. The Deputy felt far more at ease on his field missions when he only had to worry about the enemy. He cleared his throat and used a ploy he hoped the old man expected. “What are your suggestions, sir?”
The old man smiled. Good old Darnsworth. He played the game fairly well, but not very well. In a way he hated to do this to him. He looked away from his old friend and stared into space. “Quite frankly, Deputy, I’m at a loss for suggestions. I really couldn’t say. Of course, I think we should keep on trying to do something.”
Inwardly the Deputy winced. He had the ball again. He looked around the table at a group of men now suddenly not so competent and eager-looking. They looked everywhere but at him, yet he knew they were watching his every move. The Deputy cleared his throat again. He resolved to end the agony as quickly as possible. “As I see it, then, no one has any new ideas. Consequently, I have decided that we will continue to operate in the manner we have been.” (Whatever that means, he thought.) “If there is nothing further…” He paused only momentarily. “… I suggest we adjourn.” The Deputy shuffled his papers, stuffed them into his briefcase, and quickly left the room.
As the others rose to leave, the Army Intelligence representative leaned over to the Navy captain and said, “I feel like the nearsighted virgin on his honeymoon who couldn’t get hard: I can’t see what to do and I can’t do it either.”
The Navy captain looked at his counterpart and said, “I never have that problem.”
Malcolm changed taxis three times before he finally headed for northeast Washington. He left the cab on the fringes of the downtown area and walked around the neighborhood. During his ride around town he formed a plan, rough and vague, but a plan. His first step was to find all-important shelter from the hunters.
It took only twenty minutes. He saw her spot him and discreetly move in a path parallel to his. She crossed the street at the corner. As she stepped up to the sidewalk she “tripped” and fell against him, her body pressed close to his. Her arms ran quickly up and down his sides. He felt her body tense when her hands passed over the gun in his belt. She jerked away and a pair of extraordinarily bright brown eyes darted over his face.
“Cop?” From her voice she couldn’t have been more than eighteen. Malcolm looked down at her stringy dyed blond hair and pale skin. She smelled from the perfume sampler at the corner drugstore.
“No.” Malcolm looked at the frightened face. “Let’s say I’m involved in a high-risk business.” He could see the fear on her face, and he knew she would take a chance.
She leaned against him again, pushing her hips and her chest forward. “What are you doing around here?”
Malcolm smiled. “I want a lay. I’m willing to pay for it. Now, if I’m a cop, the bust is no good, cause I entrapped you. OK?”
She smiled. “Sure, tiger. I understand. What kind of party are we going to have?”
Malcolm looked down at her. Italian, he thought, or maybe Central European. “What do you charge?”
The girl looked at him, judging possibilities. It had been a slow day. “Twenty dollars for a straight lay?” She made it clear she was asking, not demanding.
Malcolm knew he had to get off the streets soon. He looked at the girl. “I’m in no hurry,” he said. “I’ll give you… seventy-five for the whole night. I’ll throw in breakfast if we can use your place.”
The girl tensed. It might take her a whole day and half the night to make that kind of money. She decided to gamble. Slowly she moved her hand into Malcolm’s crotch, covering her action by leaning into him, pushing her breast against his arm. “Hey, honey, that sounds great, but…” She almost lost her nerve. “Could you make it a hundred? Please? I’ll be extra-special good to you.”
Malcolm looked down and nodded. “A hundred dollars. For the full night at your place.” He reached in his pocket and handed her a fifty-dollar bill. “Half now, half afterwards. And don’t think about any kind of setup.”
The girl snatched the money from his hand. “No setup. Just me. And I’ll be real good — real good. My place isn’t far.” She linked her arm in his to guide him down the street.
When they reached the next corner, she whispered, “Just a second, honey, I have to talk to that man.” She released his arm before he could think and hurried to the blind pencil hawker on the corner. Malcolm backed against the wall. His hand shot inside his coat. The gun butt was sweaty.
Malcolm saw the girl slip the man the fifty dollars. He mumbled a few words. She walked quickly to a nearby phone booth, almost oblivious of a boy who jostled her and grinned as her breasts bounced. The sign said Out of Order, but she opened the door anyway. She looked through the book, or so Malcolm thought. He couldn’t see too well, as her back was toward him. She shut the door and quickly returned.
“Sorry to keep you waiting, honey. Just a little business deal. You don’t mind, do you?”
When they came abreast of the blind man, Malcolm stopped and pushed the girl away. He snatched the thick sunglasses off the man’s face. Carefully watching the astonished girl, he looked at the pencil seller. The two empty sockets made him push the glasses back quicker than he had taken them off. He stuffed a ten-dollar bill into the man’s cup. “Forget it, old man.”
The hoarse voice laughed. “It’s done forgotten, mister.”
As they walked away, the girl looked at him. “What did you do that for?”
Malcolm looked down at the puzzled, dull face. “Just checking.”
Her place turned out to be one room with a kitchen-bath area. As soon as they were safely inside, she bolted and locked the door. Malcolm fastened the chain. “Be right with you, honey. Take off your clothes. I’ll fix you up real good right away.” She darted into the curtained-off bathroom area.
Malcolm looked out the window. Three stories up. No one could climb in. Fine. The door was solid and double-locked. He didn’t think anyone had followed them, or even really noticed them. He slowly took off his clothes. He put the gun on the small table next to the bed and covered it with an old Reader’s Digest. The bed squeaked when he lay down. Both his mind and his body ached, but he knew he had to act as normal as possible.