«Who the hell are you, little man?» cried MacKenzie Hawkins.
«Little in stature, but not necessarily in stature, if you can follow a dual application of terms.»
«I break the liddle old gringo in half, but I don’ hurt him too bad, h’okay, loco man,» said D-One, walking forward.
«I come to you in peace, not violence,» said the driver of the Buick rapidly. «Simply to confer on a civilized basis.»
«Hold it!» ordered the Hawk, stopping D-One. «I repeat, who are you and what’s the nature of this conference?»
«My name is Aaron Pinkus—»
«You’re Pinkus?»
«One and the same, sir, and I assume that under that rather foolish-looking wig, you’re the celebrated General MacKenzie Hawkins?»
«One and the same, sir,» replied Mac, dramatically ripping the inadequate toupee away from his bristling, gray military brushcut and standing erect, the very breadth of his shoulders threatening. «What have we to say to each other, sir?»
«I’d estimate a great deal, General. I’d like to think of myself, with your permission, General, as your counterpart, the commander of the opposition for this small skirmish we find ourselves in. Is that acceptable?»
«I’ll say this for you, Commander Pinkus. I thought I had superb support adjutants, but you outflanked ’em, I’ll not deny it.»
«Then you must reevaluate that judgment, General. I didn’t outflank: them, I outflanked you. You see, you remained on that busy street for over an hour, so I had my Buick brought down and stayed behind you when you followed Shirley’s limousine.»
«I beg your pardon, sir?»
«Your two men were brilliant, positively brilliant. In fact, I would happily employ either of them. The business in the fish market, the reconvening in the shadows of the doorways across the street—and, wondrously, without a car key, but by simply raising the hood of this car in front of us, turning on the engine! All my purported wisdom deserts me. How did they do it?»
«Ee’s simple, Comandante,» said a bright-eyed D-Two. «You see, there are three wires that have to be pried loose and den you cross—»
«Halt!» yelled the Hawk, staring at Aaron Pinkus. «You said you outflanked me, you old bastard—»
«I suspect we’re the same age,» interrupted the renowned Boston attorney.
«Not where I come from!»
«Nor perhaps myself, except for the shrapnel in my spine from Normandy,» said Pinkus quietly.
«You were—»
«Third Army, General. But let’s not get off the track. I did outflank you, because I’ve recently become familiar with your military record, your unorthodox but marvelously successful tactics. I had to be, for Sam’s sake.»
«Sam? Sam’s the man I’ve got to see!»
«You will do that, General. And I shall be in attendance for every word you say.»
Without warning or even a hint of sound until it swung off the highway and into the parking lot, the thunderous engine of the Pinkus limousine announced the vehicle’s Wagnerian presence to the area. Obviously spotting his employer’s Buick, Paddy Lafferty swerved to the left and sped across the pavement, tires howling as he skidded to a stop ten feet in front of the small gathering at the side of the building. The chauffeur leaped out of the car, his sixty-three-year-old bulk prepared for all manner of brutal assaults.
«Stand aside, Mr. Pinkus!» he roared. «I don’t know what you’re doin’ here, sir, but these scum won’t touch you!»
«Your concern is very gratifying, Paddy, but no show of force is required. Our conference proceeds peacefully.»
«Conference …?»
«A council of commanders, you could say… Mr. Lafferty, may I introduce you to the great General MacKenzie Hawkins, of whom you may have heard.»
«Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,» whispered the chauffeur, dumbstruck.
«Dee loco man is really a heneral grande?» said Desi-One, equally impressed.
«El soldado magnífico!» added Desi-Two softly, staring in wonder at the Hawk.
«You won’t believe this,» choked Paddy, finding a small part of his voice. «I was thinkin’ about you only moments ago, sir, your great name having passed the lips of a reverent former young soldier.» Suddenly the chauffeur stood at attention, whipping his right arm up in a snapping salute. «Gunnery Sergeant Patrick Lafferty at your service and your command, sir!… This is a privilege beyond me wildest dreams—»
Then the screaming began, muted at first by the distant highway traffic, but growing louder by the moment as the racing feet approached them. «Paddy, Paddy! I saw the limo! Where are you, Paddy?… For Christ’s sake, Lafferty, answer me!»
«Over here, Sam. Quick march, soldier!»
«What?» Devereaux raced around the corner of the building gasping for breath. Before he could adjust his eyes to the shadows, Patrick Lafferty barked his authoritative sergeant’s bark. «’Tenhut, boyo! I present you to one of the great men of our time, General MacKenzie Hawkins!»
«Hi, Sam.»
Devereaux was momentarily paralyzed, capable only of deep-throated moans that emerged from his gaping mouth, his eyes wild in panic. Abruptly, with the speed of a terrified egret, he whipped around and started racing across the parking lot, waving his arms helter-skelter and raging at the descending sun.
«After him, adjutants!»
«For God’s sake, stop him, Paddy!»
The Hawk’s aides-de-camp were swifter than Aaron Pinkus’s older chauffeur. Desi the First tackled Sam perilously close to the lowered tailgate of a pickup truck, while Desi the Second held Devereaux’s head and, ripping off his tie, stuffed it into his mouth.
«Boyo,» shouted the revisited Gunnery Sergeant Patrick Lafferty, «it’s a disgrace, you are! is that any way to show respect to one of the finest men who ever wore the uniform?»
«Mmmfff!» protested Samuel Lansing Devereaux, pinching his eyes shut in defeat.
8
«Nice quarters, Commander Pinkus, very nice, indeed,» announced MacKenzie Hawkins, striding out of a bedroom in the hotel suite to which the conference had repaired. The former general’s gray gabardine suit had been replaced by his Indian buckskins and his beaded Wopotami jacket—without, however, his tribal headdress. «It’s obvious you’re high-strategy staff.»
«I keep the place for business purposes and also because Shirley likes the address,» said Aaron absently, his concentration on the voluminous pages scattered over the desk in front of him, his eyes behind his thick glasses wide with anticipation. «This is incredible!» he added quietly.
«Well, sir, having been with Winston at Chequers,» interjected the Hawk, «I wouldn’t go that far. I simply said it was very nice. The ceilings aren’t nearly so high, and the historical prints on the walls are definitely third-rate and actually clash with the decor, as well as with accuracy.»
«We in Boston do our best to introduce the tourists to our past, General,» mumbled Pinkus, his concentration on the papers uninterrupted. «Accuracy has little to do with environmental authenticity.»