“Let’s have a brief account,” the admiral said. “All of us can stand to hear a little good news.”
The major addressed the table generally. “The body was defrosted and prepared as planned. It was a little gruesome at the time, but the way in which Dr. Heise smashed in the face with the duplicate steering wheel was a work of art. The accident, I understand, went off perfectly except for the fact that there was no fire; we were rather hoping for one.”
“Couldn’t you have arranged that?” the circus performer asked. “Yes, but not without an element of risk; it’s difficult to do without leaving some evidence on the scene. We decided against it.”
The retired industrialist made a note. “I’ll look into that,” he said. “We ought to be able to develop something.”
“Fine,” the admiral commented. “Go on, Ted.”
The major continued. “Our study of Rostovitch indicates that he never takes anything at face value, and he didn’t this time. He went to the Bureau of Naval Personnel personally, don’t ask me why, and picked up the fingerprint card we had planted there. I’ve had a good report on that.”
The search and rescue pilot, who wore the Air Force Cross ribbon on his uniform, raised his hand.
“Yes, Henry,” the admiral said.
“When you laid out the ground rules, you stated that we were expected to bring up every doubt that arose in our minds.”
“Right.”
“Two questions: first, is there any likelihood that they might exhume the body?”
“If they do,” the major said, “I believe that it will withstand any examination they might give it; it was very carefully selected. We have a set of dental charts planted, too, in case they go that route.” “All right, I’ll accept that. Second question: admiral, at this moment how many people outside of this room know that you are still alive?”
“The President knows; I am in contact with him. The operational team that staged the accident knows; that was unavoidable. Other persons within our organization know because they have to. And my wife knows. I’ve been married to her for more than thirty years and her discretion is absolute. She’s had lots of practice.”
The former reporter spoke up. “I saw a little of your funeral on TV — they didn’t allow much of it on the air. She wept very convincingly; I was deeply moved.”
“She was an actress,” the admiral said, “and a damn good one, before I married her. Any more questions?”
There were none.
“All right. Gentlemen, as to our campaign plans: we have not had adequate time since this department was established to prepare for all contingencies. During this past week I have been reviewing everything that we do have and all of the other possibilities that suggested themselves. Until someone comes up with something better, I’m in favor of going ahead with Low Blow. Against the background of the present situation, it’s the best bet that we’ve got.”
There was silence.
“Any comments?” the admiral asked.
“We’d be putting a lot of our eggs into one basket,” the industrialist said, “but it’s one hell of a basket.”
“Can we do it in such a way that if it gets shot down, the whole show won’t be compromised?” the circus performer asked.
“Yes,” Haymarket answered.
“I’ll buy it,” the Marine major said. He ran the fingers of his remaining hand through his closely cropped hair as though the sitting still irked him.
Admiral Haymarket looked around the table, but no one else had a comment or a question. “Then I take it that for the present, at least, we are in agreement. Let’s get the machinery going, because it’s going to take a while and it will be as tricky as all get out.”
The industrialist nodded, a solemn bean pole of a man in contrast to the very muscular circus performer who sat next to him. “Those things can’t be rushed,” he agreed.
The admiral had one more thing to say. “In any kind of warfare you have to expect casualties; we’ve had a bad loss right at the beginning. Bob Landers, whom some of you knew, I’m sure, was spotted, interrogated, and then shot on the White House lawn. The best information I can get indicates that he didn’t talk, but even if he did he couldn’t have blown more than his own immediate local contacts. We’ve been watching them and so far they seem to be all right — although it could be a cat-and-mouse game to draw us in. I’ve had a contact made. There was an element of risk, but I was banking on Landers as I knew him. The White House is very important to us if we can establish a reliable listening post on the inside.”
“How was Landers found out?” the high diver asked.
“I don’t know yet,” Haymarket answered. “One of my best people is looking into it. I just hope that no anxious amateurs get in his way.”
Senator Solomon Fitzhugh sat alone in the solemn quiet of his office, long after everyone else had gone, struggling with his inner conscience and a heavy secret with which he was burdened. Despite the fact that it was decidedly painful to him, he was carefully retracing in his mind the events which, when strung out like crows sitting on a fence, had conspired to put him in his present dilemma. The starting point, he knew, lay in his own character and convictions. There were certain things in which he believed so implicitly that he had never had cause to question them before; foremost among these was the unshakable belief that war is hell. He held this so deeply that it had overshadowed and influenced his entire legislative career. If he could keep the nation out of armed conflict, no matter what the price, he was going to do it. If human life was beyond all value, then the preserving of large amounts of it would be of incalculable worth. “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall inherit the earth.”
There was one possible excuse for warfare, and that was when you were actually invaded and had to fight on your own soil to defend your own womenfolk and children. However, the simple fact was that if everyone followed the same principles that he did, there would be no invasions and no one would ever have to fight to defend his homeland.
His mind would not let him evade the responsibility of what came next; it took him overseas in swift retrospect and to the capital of the nation which had so ruthlessly and shockingly overcome the United States of America. Although his trip had been presumably a private one, and he had been accompanied by his family, it had not been viewed in that light upon his arrival. He had been accorded all of the protocol formality which he might have expected had he been there officially on behalf of the government as the designated representative of the President. He had been taken to see many things, he had been wined and dined, and he had been given a private meeting with the premier himself.
The American embassy had been a little disturbed by that, but the senator had held the firm conviction in his mind that he could talk to any man on earth without fear, for his conscience had been clear.
The private conference with the premier had been in many ways a vindication of the principles upon which he stood. He relived it again now. Once more he was back in the warm informal room. In the middle was the table beautifully set with delicacies and three bottles of the one alcoholic beverage that he genuinely enjoyed. The premier himself was pouring the drinks; as they sat down together, apart from some language difficulties of a very minor sort they might have been two men of goodwill meeting anywhere in the world on a topic of common interest. Although the premier’s command of English was incomplete, he spoke it well enough to make an interpreter unnecessary, a factor which helped to establish an aura of private mutual understanding.
It literally never occurred to the senator that the premises might be equipped with any kind of a listening device or that the words he spoke informally could be fed into a sensitive tape recorder.