There was a little silence after I'd finished. Mac was looking, for him, oddly indecisive. At last he said, "It is a temptation, is it not, Eric? Perhaps we should not be too clever. Perhaps, if we let it be believed that the threat is real, it would stimulate…" He stopped.
I said, "It might stimulate a lot of nice anti-pollution activity, yes, sir. That's presumably what Sorenson himself had in mind when he invented the gadget and turned it over to the Chinese. He must have figured it didn't really matter who scared us into taking action before we strangled in our own stinking by-products." I paused, and asked deliberately, "Well, sir, do I spread the word that the Chinese have got hold of a real humdinger of a doomsday weapon, just like Mr. Soo wants me to?"
I won't say Mac disappointed me. A man who's spent most of his adult life in the bureaucratic maze reacts in certain predictable ways when it comes to making major decisions outside his particular province; and that goes even when his province is as vague and peculiar as Mac's.
"No," he said slowly, "no, I don't think so, Eric. It is not our decision, is it?"
"No, sir," I said, and that buck was passed.
Having passed it, Mac said briskly, "We are not qualified to play God, although sometimes it might be tempting to try. Officially, I am concerned here only with the murder of one of my agents and the successful elimination of the enemy operative responsible for her death. Nicholas was responsible, was he not?"
I nodded. "He didn't pull the trigger, but he was responsible. And the girl who did pull the trigger took poison and died."
"Yes, I was told about that," Mac said. "And my official interest extends no further. There will be a team of scientists arriving from Washington very shortly. You will report your facts and theories concerning this aspect of the case to them. All your theories. They will make whatever decision needs making."
"Yes, sir," I said, but we both knew that a committee of scientists would only take the buck we passed them and send it along in an upward direction, where it would eventually get lost in the dim stratospheric regions of official policy-making without anybody ever having had to make any awkward decisions about it.
Mac said, after a pause, "Of course, I don't have to emphasize the need for discretion in matters that don't concern these scientific gentlemen."
After a moment, I started to grin, but thought better of it. Things were normal, after all. It wasn't tender concern for my health that had brought him two thirds of the way across the continent; it was my amnesia. He'd come to assure himself that, concussion or no, I remembered enough to know what to say when I was interviewed, and what not to say.
In particular, he was making certain that I understood that, while I was free to talk about the Sorenson generator and related subjects to my heart's content, I'd have to make up an innocuous story to explain how I'd got involved in the case in the first place. I mean, it wouldn't do to tell a bunch of tame officials from a science-oriented Washington bureau that I'd got mixed up in their complicated affairs while engaged in the relatively simple task of tracking down a guy called Santa Claus for purposes of homicide. Our duties and methods are not supposed to be discussed out of school.
"No, sir," I said. "I'll be discreet as hell."
He hesitated. "Is there anything else you should tell me now, Eric? Of course, I expect a full report eventually, but in the meantime, what about, for instance, a young lady attached to the West Coast branch of a certain special narcotics agency who seems to have taken a violent dislike to you?"
"Charlie?" I said. "When did you see Charlie Devlin?"
"This morning, in Los Angeles. I wanted to get the background before I came here. The girl is almost pathological on the subject of one Matthew Helm. She seems to think that you are responsible for blighting her promising career. Apparently certain plans of hers went badly wrong, bringing embarrassment to her department and an official reprimand to her-men like Frank Wand are very quick to scream about false arrest and illegal search when no evidence is produced against them."
I sighed. "Sir, how the hell did we get mixed up with that bunch of do-gooders, anyway?"
He said without expression, "Narcotics are a serious threat to the public welfare. I am certain the agents fighting this insidious menace are all fine people and dedicated public servants."
"They may be," I said, "but they don't hesitate to use their official positions for private revenge. At least Miss Devlin doesn't. When she decided I'd double-crossed her, she used her cop connections to spread the word that I'd stolen her damn station wagon, just to make trouble for me."
"You're certain of this?"
"She'd threatened me with dire retribution if I loused up her play. And the officer who stopped us said they'd got a report the car had been stolen in California and was probably heading east; who else would have made a report like that? As it happened, it worked out very well for me, but it was kind of tough on the officer. Charlie probably figures I killed him myself-I also made a few threats, I'm afraid. Undoubtedly that's one reason behind her anti-Helm feeling. She can't bear to let me get away with it, but she doesn't dare try to pin it on me lest her part in the business should come out. Anyway, this is the same little girl who's hell on other people following all the laws and rules, but who swore me to secrecy about a violent attack of asthma that, according to the health regulations of her agency, might have affected her career adversely."
Mac said, "Well, the personnel problems of other departments are really none of our business, are they, Eric?" "No, sir," I said. "But ten kilos of heroin are everybody's business, wouldn't you say, sir?"
He looked at me sharply. "Do you know where the shipment is?"
I said, "My information is that such an amount of Chinese heroin was given to Frank Warfel as payment for his services in connection with the Sorenson generator. He had the stuff on his yacht down at Bahia San Agustin. From what you say, it wasn't on board when he was searched by Miss Devlin north of the border. As far as we know, he only put ashore at one other place: Bernardo. Charlie was assuming that he'd come ashore there empty-handed and leave with a cargo worth a couple of million bucks, produced by his camouflaged trailer-lab. But the lab was a fake, set up merely to hide the Chinese origin of the dope. Warfel already had his twenty-two pounds of high-priced happiness when he reached Bernardo. Suppose he did exactly the opposite from what Charlie was expecting. Suppose he went ashore loaded, cached his white treasure right under the noses of Charlie and her Mexican allies, and sailed away carrying with him nothing but a sly smile, knowing he'd be searched as soon as he hit U.S. territory."
Mac drew a long breath. "It's another interesting theory. A blow on the head seems to stimulate your imagination, Eric. I'll notify the head of the agency…"
"No," I said. "Let's heap some coals on the fire, sir. Let's notify Charlie, herself, to stand by for Warfel's next trip; he's not going to leave two million bucks lying by the seashore any longer than he has to." I grinned. "Whether or not she meant to be, she was a big help, sir. We can afford to give her a hand, the vicious little idealist."
"Very well, Eric." Mac studied me thoughtfully. "You do seem to get considerable assistance from the ladies, one way or another. What about the girl who was shot? The circumstances, as reported by the police, seem to indicate that her position was rather ambiguous, too. If the organization owes her a debt of any kind, you'd better tell me now, so I can take the proper steps to repay-" He stopped. "What's the matter?"
I was staring at him. I cleared my throat and said, "Bobbie Prince? She isn't dead?"