"I could find one any minute," Harper declared.
Norris jerked an eyebrow. "Somebody not under continual observation?"
"Yes."
"Then it's your duty to tell me."
"An agent," said Harper. "Any agent. Who is watching the watchers?"
"That problem is beyond solution. Our men are working in pairs. We could group them in threes, fours, tens or twenties and find it not enough. The line has to be drawn somewhere between the desirable and the performable. They're operating in pairs, and that makes it impossible for one man to be taken by himself."
"So they must be confiscated two at a time?"
"If that can be done."
"The enemy can do anything that human beings can do. For all I know to the contrary, they can also do one or two things that we can't."
"We'll see about that," promised Norris.
The fourth successive day of ordinary, uneventful business routine found Harper bored with playing bait for fish that apparently had ceased to exist.
Meanwhile, he had become fed up with being followed wherever he went, finding G-men lounging at every street comer, occupying nearby tables in restaurants, standing beside him in comfort stations, breathing down his neck at the theatre, and standing sentry duty outside his bedroom. The price of human liberty was to sacrifice his own.
Monotony was broken, and faith in his purpose restored, when he arrived at the office early, spread the morning paper across his desk and found a news item tucked away at bottom of a column inside.
Savannah, Ga. A brief but bloody gun-battle took place near here at midnight when F.B.I, agents raided the Rankovic farm. Two men were killed, four taken into custody. Two more are believed to have escaped. Declining to reveal the purpose of the raid, Area Director Stephen Maddox states that the F.B.I, acted upon direct orders from Washington.
It was a most unusual report, in several respects. For one thing, it had been played down; for another, the precise location was not stated and no names were mentioned, other than that of Maddox. Lastly, this fight had occurred when all forces of law and order were engaged in one task and one only. Obviously, therefore, the incident had some bearing on the main issue.
This was confirmed ten minutes later when Jameson phoned long distance. "Seen the news?"
"I've just been reading it."
"It should have been on the dawn radiocast, but we kept it off. We're having a heck of a time persuading news services to minimize such items. Naturally they want to know why, and we can't tell them."
"What happened?" asked Harper.
"I can't say too much, even on an officially cleared line. In brief, one of our men picked up Langley's trail and followed it to the Rankovic farm. Langley must have moved out during the short lapse of time between our man's report and the raid. Anyway, we didn't get him. The fox had bolted, leaving the hole still warm."
"More's the pity."
"Two are dead. Their bodies are being shipped out for examination," Jameson went on. "Of the four we captured, three emphatically deny that they took any part in the battle. They say they merely happened to be in the house when the shooting started, and took cover until it ended. We've given them the paraffin test and the result is negative."
"What about the fourth?"
"He's a brother of one of the casualties. Says he was in bed, woke up when the ruckus started. Pulled on his pants and ran downstairs, joined his brother and another guy in slinging slugs out the windows. He swears that none of them knew they were firing upon the law."
"Sounds plausible," commented Harper.
"He gave up when tear gas got him. By that time, the other two were going cold. All four captives recognize Langley's picture, but know nothing about him except that he'd been rooming there a couple of days. He left at ten-forty, or not much more than an hour before the raid."
"Almost seems as if he'd been tipped off."
"He couldn't possibly have been. He was just lucky. Anyhow, I haven't called merely to tell the story; there's more to it than that. When we made the raid we surrounded the place, knocked and demanded entry. Somebody fired back through the door. Therefore, although Langley wasn't present, it made little difference — the house still concealed someone anxious not to be grabbed. What does that suggest to you?"
"Langley had made himself a pal."
"Yes, and he may have made himself more than one. Some fellow named Waggoner pulled out at the same time as Langley. We know nothing about him, except that he and Langley are teamed up. We have a good description and, of course, the search is continuing for both."
"You learned nothing about the other two?" Harper asked.
"McDonald and Gould? No, not in that locality. They appear to have split up. They're trying to make it harder for us by keeping apart." He paused, while the screen showed him to be consulting a document below the level of the distant scanner. "I want these four captives put to the test without delay. They may not be what they appear to be."
"Want me to come there?"
"No. It would spoil that setup at your end. We're flying the four to you. Give them the penetrating eye, and say whether they are or they aren't
"I'll do that."
"Thanks a lot. There's something else, too. So far, nobody has taken a bite at you. As you said yourself, it all depends on whether they knew the identity of that girl, and whether the filling station murder was a coincidence. To date, we have no evidence to show that they actually know they're being sought, or that they know we have learned of the ship's return. So it's—"
"Has the ship been found yet?" interjected Harper.
"Not a sign of it. It couldn't have been destroyed beyond recognition; a professional breaking-up yard, with gas-cutters and furnaces, would take a month to get rid of that mass of metal. Latest theory is that it's concealed somewhere in subarctic wastes or has been dumped in the ocean. The latter seems the more likely. In that case, the crew must have got ashore by using their rubber raft. We're raking the coasts in an effort to discover it."
"Well, it's an idea. What were you saying about nobody biting me?"
"I was pointing out that, up to last night, they may not have known for sure that the hunt is already in full cry. But the newspaper specifically mentioning the Rankovic farm could be a giveaway, if Langley reads it. You'd do well to be extra wary from now on."
"I'll tell Norris," said Harper. "He's my nursemaid."
"There's no need to. If he isn't actually listening in, he'll soon be informed by somebody who is listening. All your calls are being monitored."
"Solely as a measure of protection?" inquired Harper.
"Yes," said Jameson, without hesitation. He cut off. The visiscreen clouded, went blank.
"Lousy liar!" Harper glowered at the wall. "They are more bothered about my big ears than my whole skin."
The suspected quartet arrived a few minutes before the office was due to close. Norris lined them up in the machine shop, where they stood manacled together, staring around, openly puzzled by their presence in such a place as this. Half a dozen agents shared their company and watched them, narrow-eyed.
Norris went into the office and said, "They're here. How about it?"
"No luck," Harper told him. "They are normal enough to be downright dull."
"Okay." He went out, came back. "I've had three of them taken away. Jameson wants your report on the remaining guy. He admits taking part in the shooting, claims that he didn't realize what he was doing. Is he telling the truth?"
Shoving aside the papers with which he'd been dealing, Harper appeared to lie back while he pondered the question. He listened, picked up a worry that nagged like toothache, but failed to provide an answer. So he probed, drove the mind in the other room away from its present anxiety and onto the recent cause.