He stiffened. He recognized the voice. Slow, boisterous, Mississippian.
Earl Sawyer stood in the opened door, cap in hand. His eyes were on Sharon Sue, and he was bowing awkwardly. "Hello. Miss Hunt, I believe?"
"That's right." Quidley saw her right hand had disappeared into the purse. "Who are you? What do you want here, sir, to come walking through—"
"Earl!" He took two quick strides and seized her wrist. She struggled, but he was stronger. The pistol clattered to the floor and he kicked it beneath the sofa. She jerked away, panting, but he held her, not gently.
"Damn," said Sawyer, staring at the divan. "Aubrey, what the hell's goin' on?"
"I'm damned glad to see you here, Earl. Damned glad." He looked at Sharon Sue, whose long hair had come down in the struggle and now swung forward, to cover her lowered face. "I've got a surprise for you, and for Norris. I've found our Railroad informant."
"That right? This her?" said Sawyer, lifting her chin with one hand. "Pretty little gal. But look, Aubrey — what you doin' around here?"
Quidley blinked at him. "You found the boat. That's why you're here, right? Got men outside?"
"Matter of fack, no," said Sawyer. He looked slowly around the room, and his eyes stopped at the decanter. "Ma'am — Miss Hunt — could you spare a drop of that?"
She didn't answer, frowning at the floor, and he crossed the room and poured himself out four fingers of bourbon and half-turned. "Aubrey?"
"Just had one, thanks, Earl."
Sawyer replaced the stopper carefully.
"Look — if you didn't find the boat, then how do you know that — oh, I see. You captured the others. They led you back here."
"No," said Sawyer, taking a sip and raising his eyebrows.
"Then how—"
"Look, Major. Let's put it like this. I come over to see Miss Hunt. I didn't expect to find you here. I'm havin' to rethink some things. That explain it to your satisfaction?"
"Oh, for heaven's sake. You think I'm Railroad, too? That's ridiculous. As a Southern officer you should know better than that."
Sawyer studied him over the glass, his heavy, red, short-necked face glowing. "No, sir, that was not my meanin'."
"Then let's get this woman into custody." He remembered the important thing, and he straightened. "Look, we're wasting time. You're looking for the shell, correct? I know where it is. Or at least where it's going."
"An' where might that be?" said Sawyer, without, it seemed, a great deal of curiosity.
"Richmond!"
"Say Richmond, eh?" Sawyer finished the drink and set the glass down carefully.
"That's right. The Railroad intends to threaten the capital, blackmail the government into giving the — coloreds equal rights. And she's one of them, one of the terrorists."
"You're hurtin' my arm, Aubrey."
"Shut up."
"Why not let her sit down?" said Sawyer. "She can't hurt us now, Aubrey."
"Can't — " He choked on the sentence, and looked down at her. She had her face up now, the white small face he'd dreamed about; the blue eyes he'd thought empty and childlike. The fire of conviction was in them now. He shoved her toward the chair opposite the divan. Sawyer, who had drawn himself another generous glassful, strolled over to stand beside her.
"Is that right, Miss, what the Major's sayin' about you? You with the Railroad, the nigras?"
"I'm not answering your questions."
"Aubrey, how you know they're takin' it to Richmond?"
"I overheard them planning the trip."
"That'll do, I guess." Sawyer spoke musingly. "So they'll be in the capital, with a live weapon."
"Not live," he said quickly. "Not that, at least."
"What?"
He fumbled with buttons, and pulled the tube halfway out. "This is the fuze. They left it behind, probably didn't realize how important it was."
Sawyer's color had changed. He stared at the tube as if it were a live snake Quidley had produced from his bosom. "That — that's the fuze? It needs that thing to go off?"
"That's right," he said proudly. Hunt shifted on her chair and her eyes sharpened but she said nothing, only watched the two men. "Now listen. I'm calling Norris. We've got to put a cordon around Richmond, check every truck and van. Real police, Army too. Patrol the roads by air, and the James, in case they shift back to a boat again. We can finish this and catch them and keep it all quiet and no one will ever hear about it outside the government. And Shiloh will still be a success." He moved toward the phone.
"Major."
"Sir?" he picked up the receiver.
"Don't make that call."
He stood still, not knowing what to think. Finally he said, "But, Earl—"
"I said, no need to call." Sawyer's voice was smooth, but with the tone of command. "It's all bein' taken care of, now you believe me. You see, I knew about Miss Hunt here. Have for quite awhile."
He replaced the handset slowly. "Well, damn it, Earl, then why didn't you turn her over to the authorities? Even if we were engaged — you didn't hold off because of me, did you?"
Sawyer sipped at his drink and did not reply.
"Oh. I see. If you knew about her — then you, and Army intel and the CBI, you've been using her. Passing false data, tracing people who visited her. Cloak-and-dagger stuff?"
"You might say that. You're not all that slow to catch on, Aubrey. In fact, you're mighty quick. We might" — here he winked — "have a place for you up in Richmond."
"Oh, I couldn't operate on that level," he said modestly. "But it's not that hard to figure out." He tried to think further, to impress Sawyer. "And since you'd been watching her, you know, I suppose, that they were going to bring the shell through here after they took it."
Sawyer's little eyes were intent on him over a refilled glass. He paused, feeling almost as if he were under examination. Then he frowned. "But if you knew about it — then why didn't you stop them before they took it? That would have been so much easier—"
"He's lying," said Sharon Sue suddenly. They turned to look at her. She was sitting up straight, head high, eyes on Quidley.
"What?"
"Who is this man, Aubrey?"
"Now, look—"
"Answer me, Aubrey!"
He grimaced apologetically at Sawyer. "This is Colonel Sawyer, a friend of mine from Army Intel, and a fine loyal officer."
"He's lying," she said again.
"Look." He felt anger return, felt its heat flood his face. "You're the liar here, Sharon Sue. I trusted you, and you've been, all this time, a Railroad agent."
"Whose agent is he?"
"He's no one's agent! He's a loyal officer!"
"This has gone about far enough," said Sawyer.
"I agree," said Quidley.
"Aubrey, think. If a loyal officer had known what he says he knew, he'd have stopped it before it started. Alerted the men on the boat. Or had soldiers here waiting when you pulled in."
"That's about enough," said Sawyer, moving toward her.
"I'll call for the CBI," said Quidley, picking up the phone.
"Damn it, I said no!" Sawyer whirled, face mottled with alcohol and rage. "Put that telephone down, Major! That's an order!"
"And why doesn't he want you to call anyone? I think you'd better find out before—"
Sawyer slapped her. She fell back on the chair, staring at Quidley.
"Now you keep quiet. Quid, I said put down the phone."
"I think I ought to call, sir."
"Put down the phone."
"No," he said.
They looked at each other. Finally, Sawyer sighed and flipped open his holster and put his hand on his service pistol. "Quid, this here is official, high-level. Now put that down before I have to get mean."
"He's lying," Sharon said again, and her head rocked back as Sawyer's hand whipped across her face again.
"Don't do that again, Earl," Quidley said. "No call to do that."