Tanner crossed slowly to the door. He stopped and looked back at Fassett. «It’s just like it was in Washington, isn’t it? You don’t give me any alternative.»
Fassett turned away. «We’ll be in touch. If I were you I’d relax, go to the Club. Play tennis, swim. Get your mind off things. You’ll feel better.»
Tanner looked at Fassett’s back in disbelief. He was being dismissed, as a less-than-respected subordinate is dismissed before a high policy conference.
«Come on,» said Cole, standing up, «I’ll see you to the car.» As they walked, he added, «I think you should know that that man’s death last night complicates Fassett’s job more than you’ll ever realize. That killing was directed at him. It was his warning.»
The news director looked at Cole closely. «What do you mean?»
«There are signs between old-line professionals and this is one of them. You’re insignificant now… Fassett’s brilliant. He’s set the forces in motion and nothing can stop them. The people who conceived Omega realize what’s happened. And they’re beginning to see that they may be helpless. They want the man responsible to know they’ll be back. Sometime. A severed head means a massacre, Mr. Tanner. They took his wife. Now he’s got three kids to worry about.»
Tanner felt the sickness coming upon him again.
«What kind of a world do you people live in?»
«The same one you do.»
16
Thursday—10:15 A.M.
When Alice awoke at ten-fifteen Thursday morning her immediate reaction was to remain in bed forever. She could hear the children arguing downstairs and the indistinguishable but patient words from her husband settling the dispute. She thought about his remarkable sense of small kindnesses that added up to major concern. That wasn’t bad after so many years of marriage.
Perhaps her husband wasn’t as quick or dramatic as Dick Tremayne, or as sheerly powerful as Joe Cardone, or as witty or bright as Bernie Osterman, but she wouldn’t exchange places with Ginny, Betty, or Leila for anything in the world. Even if everything started all over again, she would wait for John Tanner, or a John Tanner. He was that rare man. He wanted to share, had to share. Everything. None of the others did. Not even Bernie, although he was the most like John. Even Bernie had quiet secrets, according to Leila.
In the beginning, Alice had wondered if her husband’s need to share was merely the result of his pity for her. Because she was to be pitied, she realized without any sense of self-indulgence. Most of her life before she met John Tanner had been spent in flight or in pursuit of sanctuary. Her father, a self-professed rectifier of the world’s ills, was never able to stay too long in one place. A contemporary John Brown.
The newspapers eventually labeled him … lunatic.
The Los Angeles police eventually killed him.
She remembered the words.
Los Angeles, February 10, 1945. Jason McCall, whom authorities believe to have been in the pay of the Communists, was shot down today outside his canyon headquarters when he emerged brandishing what appeared to be a weapon. The Los Angeles police and agents of the Federal Bureau of Investigation unearthed McCall’s whereabouts after an extensive search…
The Los Angeles police and the agents of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, however, had not bothered to determine that Jason McCall’s weapon was a bent piece of metal he called his «plowshare.»
Mercifully, Alice had been with an aunt in Pasadena when the killing took place. She’d met the young journalism student, John Tanner, at the public inquest after her father’s death. The Los Angeles authorities wanted the inquest public. There was no room for a martyr. They wanted it clear that under no circumstances was McCall’s death a murder.
Which, of course, it was.
The young journalist—returned from the war—knew it and labeled it as such. And although his story did nothing for the McCall family, it did bring him closer to the sad and bewildered girl who became his wife.
Alice stopped thinking and rolled over on her stomach. It was all past. She was where she wanted to be.
Several minutes later she heard strange male voices downstairs in the hallway. She started to sit up when the door opened and her husband came in. He smiled and bent down, kissing her lightly on the forehead, but in spite of his casualness, there was something strained about him.
«Who’s downstairs?» she asked.
«The T.V. men. They’re rehooking the sets, but the outside antenna system’s loused up. They have to locate the trouble.»
«Which means I get up.»
«It does. I’m not taking chances with you in bed in front of two well-proportioned men in overalls.»
«You once wore overalls. Remember? In your senior year you had that job at the gas station.»
«And when I got home I also remember they came off with alarming ease. Now, up you go.»
He was tense, she thought; he was imposing control on the situation, on himself. He announced that in spite of the pressures which descended on him on Thursdays, on this particular Thursday he was staying at home.
His explanation was simple. After yesterday afternoon, regardless of the continuing police investigation, he wasn’t about to leave his family. Not until everything was cleared up.
He took them to the Club, where he and Ali played doubles with their neighbors, Dorothy and Tom Scanlan. Tom was reputed to be so rich he hadn’t gone to work in a decade.
What struck Ali was her husband’s determination to win. She was embarrassed when he accused Tom of miscalling a line shot and mortified when he made an unusually violent overhead, narrowly missing Dorothy’s face.
They won the set, and the Scanlans turned down another. So they went to the pool, where John demanded what amounted to extraordinary service from the waiters. Late in the afternoon he spotted McDermott and insisted he join them for a drink. McDermott had come to the Club—so John told his wife—to tell a member that his car was long overdue at a parking meter in town.
And always, always, Tanner kept going to the telephone inside the Club. He could have had one brought to the poolside table but he wouldn’t do so. He claimed that the Woodward conferences were getting heated and he’d rather not talk in public.
Alice didn’t believe it. Her husband had many talents and perhaps the most finely honed was his ability to remain calm, even cold, under acute pressure. Yet today he was obviously close to panic.
They returned to Orchard Drive at eight o’clock. Tanner ordered the children to bed; Alice revolted.
«I’ve had it!» she said firmly. She pulled her husband into the living room and held his arm. «You’re being unreasonable, darling. I know how you felt. I felt it, too, but you’ve been barking orders all day long. Do this! Do that! It’s not like you.»
Tanner remembered Fassett. He had to remain calm, normal. Even with Ali.
«I’m sorry. It’s a delayed reaction, I guess. But you’re right. Forgive me.»
«It’s over and done with,» she added, not really accepting his quick apology. «It was frightening, but everything’s all right now. It’s over.»
Oh, Christ, thought Tanner. He wished to God it were that simple. «It’s over and I’ve behaved childishly and I want my wife to say she loves me so we can have a couple of drinks and go to bed together.» He kissed her lightly on the lips. «And that madam, is the best idea I’ve had all day.»
«You took a long time arriving at it,» she said as she smiled up at him. «It’ll take me a few minutes. I promised Janet I’d read her a story.»
«What are you going to read her?»
«‘Beauty and the Beast.’ Ponder it.» She disengaged herself from his arms, touching his face with her fingers. «Give me ten, fifteen minutes.»