«You must have talked with them.»
According to Tremayne, MacAuliff said, the four of them had driven down Orchard Drive less than a half mile when they saw a red flare in the road and an automobile parked on the shoulder. A man waved them down; a well-dressed man who looked like any resident of Saddle Valley. Only he wasn’t. He’d been visiting Mends and was on his way back to Westchester. His car had suddenly developed engine trouble and he was stuck. Tremayne offered to drive the man back to his friends’ house. The man accepted.
That was the last Tremayne and the two wives remembered. Apparently Cardone had been unconscious throughout the incident.
At the deserted depot the police found an unmarked aerosol can on the floor of Tremayne’s car. It would be examined in the morning, but MacAuliff had no doubt it was ether.
«There must be a connection with last Wednesday.» said Tanner.
«It’s the obvious conclusion. Still, anyone who knows this neck of the woods knows that the old depot area is deserted. Especially anyone who read the papers or heard about Wednesday afternoon.»
«I suppose so. Were they robbed … too?»
«Not of money, or wallets or jewelry. Tremayne said he was missing some papers from his coat. He was very upset.»
«Papers?» Tanner remembered the lawyer saying he had left some notes in his jacket. Notes that he might need. «Did he say which papers?»
«Not directly. He was hysterical—didn’t make too much sense. He kept repeating the name ‘Zurich.’»
John held his breath and, as he had learned to do, tensed the muscles of his stomach, trying with all his strength to suppress his surprise. It was so like Tremayne to arrive with written-down, pertinent data concerning the Zurich accounts. If there had been a confrontation, he was armed with the facts.
MacAuliff caught Tanner’s reaction, «Does Zurich mean something to you?»
«No, why should it?»
«You always answer a question with a question?»
«At the risk of offending you again, am I being officially questioned?»
«You certainly are.»
«Then, no. The name Zurich means nothing to me. I can’t imagine why he’d say it. Of course, his law firm is international.»
MacAuliff made no attempt to conceal his anger. «I don’t know what’s going on, but I’ll tell you this much. I’m an experienced police officer and I’ve had some of the toughest beats a man can have. When I took this job I gave my word I’d keep this town clean. I meant that.»
Tanner was tired of him. «I’m sure you did, Captain. I’m sure you always mean what you say.» He turned his back and started for the house.
It was MacAuliff’s turn to be stunned. The suspect was walking away and there was nothing Saddle Valley’s Police Chief could do about it.
Tanner stood on his front porch and watched MacAuliff drive off. The sky was brighter but there’d be no sun. The clouds were low, the rain would come, but not for a while.
No matter. Nothing mattered. It was over for him.
The covenant was broken now. The contract between John Tanner and Laurence Fassett was void.
For Fassett’s guarantee had proven false. Omega did not stop with the Tremaynes, the Cardones and the Ostermans. It went beyond the constituency of the weekend.
He was willing to play—had to play—under Fassett’s rules as long as the other players were the men and women he knew.
Not now.
There was someone else now—someone who could stop a car on a dark road in the early morning hours and create terror.
Someone he didn’t know. He couldn’t accept that.
Tanner waited until noon before heading towards the woods. The Ostermans had decided to take a nap around eleven-thirty and it was a good time to suggest the same to Ali. They were all exhausted. The children were in the study watching the Saturday morning cartoons.
He walked casually around the pool, holding a six iron, pretending to practice his swing, but actually observing the windows on the rear of the house: the two children’s rooms and the upstairs bathroom.
He approached the edge of the woods and lit a cigarette.
No one acknowledged his presence. There was no sign, nothing but silence from the small forest. Tanner spoke softly.
«I’d like to reach Fassett. Please answer. It’s an emergency.»
He swung his golf club as he said the words.
«I repeat! It’s urgent I talk with Fassett! Someone say where you are!»
Still no answer.
Tanner turned, made an improvised gesture toward nothing, and entered the woods. Once in the tall foliage he used his elbows and arms to push deeper into the small forest, toward the tree where Jenkins had gone for the portable radio.
No one!
He walked north; kicking, slashing, searching. Finally he reached the road.
There was no one there! No one was guarding his house! No one was watching the island!
No one!
Fassett’s men were gone!
He raced from the road, skirting the edge of the woods, watching the windows fifty yards away on the front of his house.
Fassett’s men were gone!
He ran across the back lawn, rounded the pool and let himself into the kitchen. Once inside he stopped at the sink for breath and turned on the cold water. He splashed it in his face and then stood up and arched his back, trying to find a moment of sanity.
No one! No one was guarding his house. No one guarding his wife and his children!
He turned off the water and then decided to let it run slowly, covering whatever footsteps he made. He walked through the kitchen door, hearing the laughter of his children from the study. Going upstairs, he silently turned the knob of his bedroom door. Ali was lying on top of their bed, her bathrobe fallen away, her nightgown rumpled. She was breathing deeply, steadily, asleep.
He closed the door and listened for any sound from the guest room. There was none.
He went back down into the kitchen, closed the door and walked through the archway into the small pantry to make sure that, too, was shut.
He returned to the telephone on the kitchen wall, lifted the receiver. He did not dial.
«Fassett! If you or any of your men are on this line, cut in and acknowledge! And I mean now!»
The dial tone continued; Tanner listened for the slightest break in the circuit.
There was none.
He dialed the motel. «Room twenty-two, please.»
«I’m sorry, sir. Room twenty-two is not occupied.»
«Not occupied? You’re wrong! I spoke to the party at five o’clock this morning!»
«I’m sorry, sir. They checked out.»
Tanner replaced the receiver, staring at it in disbelief.
The New York number! The emergency number!
He picked up the telephone, trying to keep his hand from trembling.
The beep of a recording preceded the flat-toned voice.
«The number you have reached is not in service. Please check the directory for the correct number. This is a recording. The number you have reached …»
John Tanner closed his eyes. It was inconceivable! Fassett couldn’t be reached! Fassett’s men had disappeared!
He was alone!
He tried to think. He had to think. Fassett had to be found! Some gargantuan error had taken place. The cold, professional government man with his myriad ruses and artifices had made some horrible mistake.
Yet Fassett’s men were gone. Perhaps there was no mistake at all.
Tanner suddenly remembered that he, too, had resources. There existed for Standard Mutual Network necessary links to certain government agencies. He dialed Connecticut information and got the Greenwich number of Andrew Harrison, head of Standard’s legal department.
«Hello, Andy?… John Tanner.» He tried to sound as composed as possible. «Sorry as hell to bother you at home but the Asian Bureau just called. There’s a story out of Hong Kong I want to clear… I’d rather not go into it now, I’ll tell you Monday morning. It may be nothing, but I’d rather check… I guess C.I.A. would be best. It’s that kind of thing. They’ve cooperated with us before… Okay, I’ll hold on.» The news editor cupped the telephone under his chin and lit a cigarette. Harrison came back with a number and Tanner wrote it down. «That’s Virginia, isn’t it?… Thanks very much, Andy. I’ll see you Monday morning.»