“The fall guys,” Weinstein said.
“No. He took the fall. The big one.” He looked ready to call a halt.
“Was there anybody else at all involved with the break-in other than the people who came to public attention?”
“Why are you asking?”
“Look, Mr. Martinez, I’m not supposed to mention this, but it looks as if I have to: The president wants to know. Don’t ask me why. There’s reason to believe someone else was with you inside the Watergate.”
Martinez took a deep breath. Picked up the photo and switched on the lamp behind his chair. Held the picture so the light fell on it. “It could be him.”
“It could be who?”
“There’s no way I can be sure. It’s too many years ago, and I only saw him that one night.”
“When you did the break-in?”
“Yes.”
“So there was a sixth burglar. Is that what you’re saying?”
“No. That’s not exactly what happened. If this is the same guy”—he stared at the photo—“he’s the reason we were there in the first place.”
“Wait a minute, Mr. Martinez—”
“Call me Eugenio if you like.”
“Why were you at the Watergate? You were sent in to bug the place, weren’t you?”
Martinez took a deep breath. “Maybe I should get that release.”
“I can arrange it.”
He got up, walked over to the window, and stared out. The skies were gray. “I guess, after all these years, it won’t matter.”
“So what were you actually after at the Democratic National Headquarters?”
He was still holding the picture. “This guy’s briefcase.”
Weinstein stared at him. “Why?”
“There was a notebook in it. I don’t know what it was about. They never told us.”
“So how would you know it when you found it?”
“We had a description of the briefcase and the notebook. And the guy it belonged to was with us.”
“The sixth burglar.”
“Not really. We kept him outside. In the passageway.”
“Do you know how this notebook came to be at the Democratic National Headquarters?”
“I’ve no idea.”
“You say you had a description?”
“Yes. We knew what it looked like.”
“Did you know what was in the notebook?”
“They told us it had a couple of pages in a foreign language.”
“Which language?”
He shrugged. “I don’t remember. I really don’t. Sorry.” Thunder rumbled in the distance. “We need the rain,” Martinez said.
“Did you find the notebook?”
“No. The police got there too quickly.”
“Why didn’t they get the guy in the hall?”
“We’d expected to come up with it pretty quick. Actually, I think what happened was that when we didn’t see it, we told him to take off. They told us to take no chances with him.”
“Then what? You went back and looked some more?”
“We kept looking until we heard the cops were coming up. There was no way to get clear, so we switched to our secondary mission.”
“Bugging the place.”
“Yes.”
“But you did that strictly—”
“To provide a cover story. As we were instructed to do.”
“And you, and none of the other guys, ever gave the real reason for the break-in.”
He shook his head. No.
Weinstein felt a sense of admiration. “You took all that heat.”
“We were told to keep it quiet.” He leaned forward, his eyes locked on Weinstein. “If this story ever comes out, I’ll deny everything.”
30
“I still don’t know why I had to stay up here,” grumbled Bucky. “After all, every Moon landing we ever had, two went down and just one stayed behind to pilot the ship. That’s you.”
Ben Gaines smiled. “Two went down. That’s them.”
“But you don’t need me up here,” continued Bucky. “I don’t know the first damned thing about running the ship.”
“You don’t know the first damned thing about landing on the Moon and taking off from it.”
Then came the final argument. “It’s my expedition, damn it! I’m paying for it, so I should go to the surface if I want to.”
Gaines chuckled. “There’s the hatch. Feel free to leave.”
“Maybe I should fire you for insubordination,” said Bucky with a smile.
“Be my guest.” Gaines returned the smile. “I’m tired of driving this thing anyway. You take over.”
“Oh, hell, I guess you can stick around.” Bucky laughed, and Gaines joined in. He looked at the numerous dials and readouts on the control panel. “Have they landed yet, do you think?”
“Soon,” said Gaines. “Maybe another twelve or fifteen minutes.”
“Good. I’m getting tired sitting here doing nothing.”
“Well, we couldn’t send them until we’d picked their landing spot.”
“It seems so inexact,” complained Bucky.
Gaines frowned. “They’ll land within a few hundred yards of the descent modules.”
“I don’t mean the landing is inexact,” said Bucky. “I mean we still don’t know why Myshko and Walker went down there in the first place. Do you see anything else?”
“Not a thing, Bucky.”
Bucky paused, staring out through the port. “Where the hell is the lander?”
“You can’t see it right now,” Gaines said. “We’ve got the wrong angle.”
“Damn! I should be down there!”
“You’re starting to sound like a broken record,” said Gaines.
“They stopped making records before you were born,” growled Bucky. “What do you know about it?”
“Hey, I still collect vinyl,” said Gaines. “Not every record was transferred to CD or MP3 files. Especially old comedy records, topical ones.”
“You really collect them?”
Gaines nodded. “Mort Sahl, the original Second City, Stiller and Meara—almost none of them made it to CD. Same goes for a bunch of old Broadway shows that weren’t big enough hits to get revived. There’s really quite a large market for that stuff.”
“You live and learn,” said Bucky. Suddenly, he grinned. “Here I thought I was putting you down, and you made a fool of me. I like that in an employee.”
“So I get to orbit the Moon once or twice more before you fire me?”
“Maybe even three times.” Bucky turned his attention back to the panel. “Have they landed yet?”
“Bucky, take a nap. I’ll wake you when they’re there.”
“Shut up.”
“Okay, then—go to the bathroom. By the time you get back in all your gear, they’ll have landed.”
“I liked you a lot better five minutes ago,” said Bucky.
“Ditto,” said Gaines.
“You wouldn’t talk to me like that if we were back on Earth,”
“Sure I would.”
“You’re a good man, Ben. I chose the right pilot.”
“You didn’t choose me at all,” said Gaines.
“Maybe not, but I chose not to fire you a couple of minutes ago. That counts for something.”
They kidded and teased each other for another ten minutes, and finally they got the message they’d been waiting for.
“We’ve touched down in Cassegrain Crater.” It was Marcia Neimark’s voice.
“Everything okay?” asked Gaines.
“No problems of any kind.”
“You want to talk to the boss?”
“Sure—but it makes more sense for him to wait until we have something to tell him.”
“Can you see the modules?” asked Bucky.
“Yeah. We’re a good distance away, but we can see them.”
“Is there anything else?”
“Negative.”
“Can you see any reason why they might have gone down there?”