It took them almost fifteen minutes to reach the house. It appeared to be a quiet ordinary one which had had the good sense to be neither conspicuously better or worse than its contemporaries in the immediate neighborhood. It sat a little back on the lot; a short straight driveway led up to the garage. Two or three sun-faded throwaway newspapers before the front door suggested that no one had been in or out for at least a day or two.
Without glancing either way to see if anyone was watching, Barbara fitted the key into the lock and opened the door enough to pass inside. As Hewlitt followed, the slight mustiness of the air told him that despite the furniture in place the house was unoccupied. Barbara dropped her coat onto a chair, glanced at him, and said, “You take the upstairs.”
He knew precisely what she meant. He went through the small second floor carefully, opening all of the closet doors, and for a finale checked the panel covering the crawl hole which gave access to the small space between the ceiling and the rafters. It was tightly shut, and when he attempted to move it, a fine sifting of dust told him that it had not been disturbed in some time. Brushing himself off he went back downstairs, noting the undistinguished furniture, the commonplace prints of bug-eyed children which adorned the living room, and two pieces of bric-a-brac which depicted a leaping gazelle and a Japanese geisha girl in the best traditions of lower Broadway. Whoever lived here, or had done so, had been contented with an installment payment decor and had picked out the objets d’art at a price of a dollar or two each.
As Barbara returned to the living room Hewlitt put the tips of his thumb and first finger together and raised his hand for her to see it.
“You were thorough?” she asked.
He nodded. “All the closets, under the beds, the shower stall, the attic entry, behind all of the doors. Did I miss anything?”
She sat down on one end of the low-priced davenport and the tension visibly eased out of her. “I’m sure you didn’t,” she answered, and her voice was eloquent with relief. “Come over and sit down. Now we can talk.”
Hewlitt sat besicfe her. “Who lives here?” he asked.
“I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter. These houses come on and off the rental market all the time. The woman in the real estate office used to be with the Agency; she still helps out now and then. It’s simply impossible for them to bug every house in Washington and then listen in on all of them, so when some perfectly ordinary people move out, we use the premises.”
“How long has this been going on?” Hewlitt asked.
“Not too long, only since we discovered how much listening in was being done all over town. When they get onto this trick, we’ll use something else.”
“I understand. Now let’s get down to cases; you wanted to see me.”
Barbara shifted her position and folded her legs up underneath herself.
“Yes. First, did you hear what happened to Bob Landers?”
“I was there; I saw it.”
She brushed a hand through the air. “I don’t mean that. Captain Scott, who’s more or less an Air Force messenger boy between the
White House and the Pentagon, asked to see Zalinsky. He got in. When he did he asked if Mr. Z minded what he did with the body. He was told that it didn’t make the slightest difference; he could do with it as he liked.”
“Scott was a little nervy,” Hewlitt commented.
Barbara nodded. “He was. He took the body to a mortuary and had Bob properly laid out. The next day he got some people from the Navy and some others, and made some fast arrangements — I don’t know just how. Anyhow, they took Bob to Arlington and buried him there, military honors and all.”
Hewlitt felt a surge of admiration for the men who had done that even while he was evaluating the risk that they had taken. “Is Scott one of our people?”
“Not so far as I know, but he’ll bear looking into. Now let’s get serious for a minute. Answer me point-blank — are you Asher?” “No, positively not. Are you?”
The moment he said it he realized the absurdity of the question, but once more his mouth had been faster than his brain.
Barbara ignored the slip. “I’ve checked with Mary; she hadn’t been contacted either. So as far as we know, there’s iust the three of us.”
“Let me tell you what I think,” Hewlitt said. “Since this organization has been set up for some time, I don’t believe that we should trust anyone — no matter who — until Asher appears on the scene. Somebody gave Bob away. He looked pretty bad just before…” He stopped to reshape his words. “I’m sure they put him through hell before he was shot, and God only knows whether he was able to keep his mouth shut or not.”
“Did he look as though he’d been drugged?” Barbara asked.
“No.”
“Then we’ll have to go on the assumption that he was able to protect us. If not…” She shrugged her shoulders and let them fall. “I agree with you absolutely that we trust nobody — take nobody in — until we are contacted in some way by Asher. If after a month nothing has happened, then we can talk about it again.” “That long?” Hewlitt asked.
Barbara nodded. “I know a little more about this sort of thing than you do, at least I think I do. Impatience is one of the worst enemies.”
“One month, then,” Hewlitt agreed. “I hope it isn’t that long.”
“If you hear,” Barbara continued, “let me know. Invite me to lunch and suggest an Italian restaurant if you’ve met him, a Chinese one if you’ve heard in some way.”
“Fine.”
“Two more things: first, don’t contact Mary; that’s to prevent too obvious a connection between the three of us. Don’t underestimate her either; she’s a very bright girl and knows how not to let it show.”
“All right.” He was a little frustrated that she had no more concrete news for him. “What’s the other thing?”
“This is my idea pure and simple, but until we get orders to the contrary, I suggest that you become my visible boyfriend. I just got rid of one, so it’s all right. That will cover any contacts we make.”
“I’d been thinking of the same thing,” Hewlitt said. “To be sure that I understand the ground rules, just how far does this, or is this, likely to go?”
Barbara looked at him. “That’s up to you,” she said. “Just don’t take too much for granted, that’s all.”
On Monday morning Zalinsky sent for him. This time he welcomed it; if he was to be confronted with a question about Landers he wanted it over and done with. Any kind of action was preferable to the inertia he had been enduring. He took pad and pencils and presented himself, feeling for the first time that he could face this man unafraid.
When he had been admitted Zalinsky waved him to a chair. He was again wearing the poorly cut suit he had had on during his first day at the White House and Hewlitt noted it; the President seldom wore the same suit twice in one month.
“Today we will converse in my language,” Zalinsky said.
“Very well,” Hewlitt answered. The idiom he used suggested that he had given his consent. Zalinsky noted it and looked up, but he made no comment.
“You are now extremely displeased with me,” Zalinsky went on in his own tongue, “because of the execution of Major Landers. He was your friend — I know. By the way, what does T.G.I.F. mean?”
“Thank God It’s Friday.” Hewlitt switched to English, as he had to.