"But-"
"I'm afraid there's no room for doubt. Mrs. Hendricks," Mac said. "It was a hard assignment. I would not have let Sarah take it on if she had not seemed quite certain she could handle it and eager to try. I believe revenge was a motive; I did not inquire too closely… Your sister was a rather difficult psychological case, you know. I have medical reports to the effect that her sexual attitudes were confused and immature. Normally, I pay little attention to such reports. I'm interested in the scores my people make on the target range; they can work out their sexual attitudes for themselves. But perhaps I should have given a little more weight to these reports, under the circumstances."
"I… I don't understand."
Mac said, "As I told you, your sister was ideally suited to the task in many respects-but most particularly because she was already acquainted with the man we were after, so there were none of the usual problems of identification and contact. But there was an emotional problem-it isn't easy for even a well-balanced woman to deal objectively and ruthlessly with a man with whom she has once been… shall we say, very close?"
Gail frowned quickly. "Close? You mean she'd known this man that well…?" Her voice stopped. Her eyes widened. She said, "My dear man, you can't be hinting that this mystery man of yours, this elusive enemy agent…?" She was silent again. Mac did not speak. She said flatly, "Sam? Sam Gunther?" Then she began to laugh.
IX
She laughed and laughed. I guess it was nice to find something funny at last on this dreadful evening. There was also, no doubt, a little hysteria involved. After she'd gone on for a while I took a step forward with the thought of snapping her out of it, but Mac gave me the lay-off signal with a slight movement of his hand. He hadn't cracked a smile. I took my cue from him and waited with a perfectly straight face.
Her laughter died gradually. She sat down on the bed, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of my dressing gown, and looked up at Mac helplessly.
"My dear man," she gasped. "My dear man, if you knew how utterly ridiculous… Sam Gunther, of all people, the professional Texas charm boy!" She couldn't help giggling at the thought. "I'm sorry, Mr. Macdonald. Somebody's given you an awfully bum steer. Now, if you were after him for victimizing rich old ladies with his boyish grin, or getting some susceptible divorcee to pay his way from Reno to the Riviera… But Sam Gunther as the Master Spy in cowboy boots, why, that's just downright crazy!" She fought another giggle and lost.
"I'm sorry that I can't share your amusement, Mrs. Hendricks," Mac said. His voice was cold. "I may be prejudiced, but I always find it difficult to see anything humorous about a man who has killed one of my operatives."
She stared at him, shocked I said quickly, "LeBaron?"
Mac nodded. "Shot in the chest at close range. He was taken to the hospital in Juarez. He died without gaining consciousness. For a mere gigolo, Mr. Gunther seems to be handy with firearms."
I started to speak but stopped. I'd been going to ask if LeBaron had been warned the opposition was dangerous, but it would have been a shy question. We're not supposed to have to be warned, and a man with a gun is always dangerous.
Gail Hendricks licked her 11ps. "It… was an accident, I'm sure. Sam was just trying to help me. He didn't know-"
Mac said, "LeBaron was a trained man, Mrs. Hendricks. He had received thorough instructions in how to deal with an armed opponent. I prefer not to believe that he met his death by clumsy accident."
Those were just words, of course. The only really effective way to deal with an armed opponent who keeps his head, if you haven't got a gun yourself, is to place a solid obstacle between you and him and run like hell. But if Mac wanted to make a point, I wasn't going to spoil it with awkward technical details. It did seem to me we were telling this woman a lot of stuff she had no business knowing, but I couldn't complain about that, either,, since I'd started it. I presumed Mac had some plan for keeping her mouth shut.
I heard my own voice. "Where's Gunther now?"
Mac glanced at me. "He has disappeared. The border is being watched."
I made a rude sound. "It's a thousand-mile border. Who's going to watch it all?"
Gail was shaking her head. "I still can't believe Sam isn't my favorite person by any means, but-"
"There seems to be no doubt about it," Mac said. "Washington has been trying for years to identify an enemy operative who goes by the code name of Cowboy… What amuses you now, Mrs. Hendricks?"
"If it's Sam, he certainly dresses the part."
"That could be his way of thumbing his nose at all the agencies that have been trying to discover his identity, flaunting his big hat and cowboy boots as he goes about his work. Even a clever agent will often allow himself a small touch of arrogance. Of course, it is always a weakness, sometimes a fatal one."
"Well, I never rated Sam as very clever," Gail said. "And aren't you forgetting something, Mr. Macdonald? Maybe he's been to the Club Chihuahua before for other reasons-I don't know about that-but he was there tonight because I brought him. He wasn't eager to go."
"Very probably he wasn't eager to go with you, Mrs. Hendricks," Mac said. "Your insistence upon visiting the club in his company at just this time must have been awkward from his point of view; naturally, he was reluctant."
"But-.-"
"I wouldn't be too eager to take responsibility for Mr. Gunther's presence, Mrs. Hendricks," Mac said smoothly.
"As the person who accompanied him to the scene, you're already in a rather unfortunate position. I thought, of course, that you would claim to be an innocent dupe. They always do."
She frowned. "They? Who?"
"The legal term is accomplice, I believe."
There was a moment of silence. Her eyes widened. "My dear man, what are you driving at?" she demanded.
"My dear lady," he said, using the form of address deliberately, "consider the facts. Your sister, unfortunately dead so she cannot be questioned, was undoubtedly working as a double agent. That is, still maintaining a pretense of working for us, but actually betraying us to the other side. Whether she succumbed to Mr. Gunther's physical attractions a second time, or whether he used other means of persuasion, doesn't matter for the moment. She was helping him, and she was doing it voluntarily-"
"How do you know that?"
Mac said patiently, "She was still sending in reports.
There are certain signs, certain signals, for an agent to use when his reports are prepared under duress, or when he knows they will be read by the enemy and is therefore making them deliberately misleading. No such signals showed up in your sister's communications… I think we may take it as established that for one reason or another she had gone over to the enemy, or at least to Mr. Gunther."
"Then why was she killed?"
Mac moved his shoulders. "It is a common fate of double agents. They walk a narrow and uncertain path, knowing too much about both sides. They are expendable." He paused. "Now let's examine your part in tonight's proceedings, Mrs. Hendricks. At a critical moment, you arrived in the club with Mr. Gunther. You admit you' brought him; he did not bring you?"
She hesitated. "Well, as a matter of fact, he did suggest that the ten-thirty show-"
"I see," Mac said dryly. "So now Mr. Gunther has some say in the matter. It is no longer entirely your idea."
She said angrily, "I don't like your attitude at all!