"Sure," I said. "If you want to pull out, they run buses to El Paso. Either stop screaming at me and behave yourself, or beat it."
There was a little silence, then she pushed a wisp of hair back from her face and picked up her Martini glass. She spoke in a cool voice, devoid of anger or hysteria.
"I thought if I didn't cooperate I'd go to jail as a dangerous enemy agent."
I laughed. "We were bluffing, glamor girl. Haven't you caught on yet? For a poker-playing Texican ranch girl you bluff easier than any human being I ever met. I'd love to play you for money some time. Go ahead and go, wherever you want to. Nothing will happen, nobody will whisper a word against you."
She sipped her drink, studying me over the glass. "Well, I declare," she said slowly. It was the first time she'd really put out with the drawl. "I do declare, it don't seem possible that one man could be so aggravatin' all by himself."
"It's a knack," I said. "I've worked hard at developing it. I'm glad it's appreciated." I hoped she couldn't guess how close this was to the truth.
"I don't understand," she said, dropping the Texas act as suddenly as she'd picked it up. "I don't understand, why are you so anxious to get rid of me all of a sudden? Not that I mind, Heaven forbid, but I thought you had some idea you needed me. You certainly went to enough trouble to get me here."
I said, "That was when I thought you might lead me somewhere interesting and profitable. But we've spent a day on it, and nothing's come of it. I haven't any more time to waste." I grinned at her. "Or maybe I'm just turning you loose to see what you do when you think you're not being watched. Take your choice." I let my grin widen in what I hoped was an infuriating way. "Goodbye. It's been real nice, glamor girl. Parts it, anyway."
She got to her feet, set her glass down very gently, took her coat from a nearby hook and walked out without looking back. Now, I thought, if she had any resources we didn't know about, she'd have to trot them out quick before she lost touch with me altogether. I had another drink and wondered why I was suddenly kind of lonely. I should be satisfied with my own company, shouldn't I, a diabolically clever guy like me?"
XVI
I phoned Mac from a booth by a filling station-the same filling station, as a matter of fact, that we'd patronized when we first arrived. It was the only public phone I knew of in Carrizozo. The same man was sitting at the desk beyond the big window of the building, having a sandwich and a cup of coffee for dinner.
I had no trouble reaching Mac in Washington. "Eric here," I said when he came on the line. "Alexander Naldi. Seismologist, if that's the proper term. Medium height, large head, black hair. Glasses situation confused. He was wearing them today, bifocals yet, but he didn't have them on in Juarez. Maybe he was in disguise, or thought he was."
"I see," Mac said, two thousand miles away. "This is the man from whom Sarah got the films?"
"I wouldn't swear to it in court, but he was in the place at the time, and he's the only person she actually touched while on stage."
"A seismologist, you say?"
"Don't ask me to spell it, sir. A man who studies earth tremors."
"I am aware of the definition of the word."
"Yes, sir. He's all set up to study earth tremors around here. There should be some good ones in a day or two. He seems to be in charge of the earth-tremor department. He's also doing his best to stall the project in question. He's responsible for one postponement, and he tried to promote another today, but Rennerkamp wasn't buying."
"I see."
"He has also recommended that the caverns at Carlsbad be evacuated during the test. This conflicts with official reassurances, quoted in the newspapers, to the effect that there isn't the slightest danger to a single precious underground formation."
"You seem to have acquired some fascinating data," Mac said. His voice was cool. "None of it, however, seems to have much bearing on our problem."
"Perhaps not, sir, but-"
"Your job is Gunther. Espionage and sabotage, on whatever scale, are not our concern, Eric. I am sure that in those fields the national interest is being quite adequately safeguarded by the agency or agencies established for the purpose. Never mind Alexander Naldi or the Carlsbad Caverns. You were sent after one man, a man known as Cowboy-"
"Just a minute, sir," I said. If he could split hairs, so could I. "Let's clarify this a bit. Am I looking for Gunther, or am I looking for this Cowboy character?"
"They are one and the same."
"Says who? Everything I learn about Gunther sounds pretty small-caliber to me. Oh, he's involved, sure, up to his neck, but if the Cowboy is their top man locally, it doesn't look to me as if this gigolo is a very likely suspect."
Mac said coldly, "Our assignment, your assignment, Eric, is Gunther. That is the way the orders came through, and that is the way we will execute them." After a moment, he added, "After all, we owe him for LeBaron; he's due for murder anyway. And if they want us to do the detective work, they can so state. In this case they claim positive identification. Do I make myself clear?"
He did. Somebody had reamed him out for interpreting orders loosely or concerning himself with matters outside his jurisdiction, so now we were going to do it by the book. Somebody wanted Gunther. Somebody would get Gunther.
"Yes, sir," I said. "As far as Naldi and the Carlsbad Caverns are concerned, I just mentioned it because I thought you'd want to pass it along."
"That," said Mac sarcastically, "is a strange thought. I will have to pass it along, of course, now that you have presented me with it, but the desire is conspicuously lacking."
I frowned at the glass wall of the booth. He was certainly in a state about something. I said, "I had the impression that everything was sweetness and light and official cooperation, sir."
"What would give you that odd impression?"
I said, "You haven't given our description to any related agencies and asked that we be let alone if encountered?"
"I am not in the habit of circulating the descriptions of our people, Eric, particularly not when they are on secret and potentially dangerous duty."
"Then," I said, "something damn funny is going on around here." I told him what had happened that morning.
"A security officer?" Mac said. "And he'd been told what to look for?"
"Yes, sir. He didn't place me at once, he was too busy acting the Grand Inquisitor the way they do, but when he got around to noticing the lady and the truck and the license plate, he suddenly remembered something and became very gracious indeed."
"I see," Mac said. "I'll investigate. You were careless. That involvement wasn't necessary."
"No, sir. I was scouring the town for wigwams. I didn't expect to run into an official parade like that."
"Considering the date, which I hope you are doing, it's hardly an earthshaking coincidence."
"Earthshaking?" I said. "I think that's a very appropriate word in this connection, sir. Incidentally, there were no wigwams."
"I see." His voice was suddenly soft and sad and far away. "Well, we anticipated that possibility, didn't we? Do your best, Eric. I didn't mean to be… The political situation is a little trying at the moment."
"Yes, sir," I said. "It always is."
"it is hard to explain to people who know nothing about it that political reliability is not the only qualification necessary for undercover work, or even the primary one."
"They are raising hell about Sarah?"
"Naturally. It always raises hell when an agent defects. I think you had better get me Gunther, Eric. Nobody else has turned up any leads; yours is the only one we have, thin as it is. It should be a smooth, impressive, confidence-inspiring job, preferably one that looks like an accident and embarrasses nobody. Did you receive my little gift?"