«Why the come-on-strong, Major?»
«Nothing personal. I resented the assignment, that’s all.»
«Why? Not that I know what your assignment is; I still don’t understand. Is there some combat situation somewhere that you’re missing?»
«I’m not the late-late show, either.»
«Neither am I.»
«Sorry … again.»
«You’re blowing it, that’s for sure; whatever it is.»
«Sorry. For a third time.» Bonner took his coffee and sat down in an armchair. «Mr. Trevayne, two days ago I was given your file and told that I was assigned to you. I was also told that you were a V.I.P. of the first water, and whatever I could do for you—whatever had no latitude or longitude, just whatever—I was to make sure you got it… Then yesterday the word came through. You’re out to nail us, hands and feet, with big, fat spikes. I’m a lousy go-between in this kind of a situation.»
«I’m not out to nail anybody.»
«Then my job’s easier. I admit you don’t look like a nut. Or sound like one, either.»
«Thank you. I’m not entirely sure I can say the same.»
Bonner smiled again, more relaxed than before. «Sorry. For a fourth time, or is it the fifth?»
«I lost count.»
«Actually, I rehearsed that little speech. I wanted to give you a chance to complain; I’d be taken off.»
«It’s still possible. What’s this ‘nailing people’ supposed to mean?»
«In short words, you’re one of the virulent antimilitary. You don’t like the way the Pentagon operates; incidentally, neither does the Pentagon. You think Defense spends zillions more than it has to; so does Defense. And you’re going to spell it all out with a subcommittee, and our heads will roll. Is that fairly accurate, Mr. Trevayne?»
«Perhaps. Except, as with most such generalizations, you imply questionable accusations.» Trevayne stopped for a moment, remembering that the dead Gillette had said pretty much the same thing to him in the car last night. He finished the Senator’s spoken judgment with a feeling of irony. «I don’t think they’re justified.»
«If that’s so, then I’m relieved. We’ll—»
«Major,» interrupted Trevayne quietly, «I don’t give a damn whether you’re relieved or not. If you’re going to stay on, we’d better have that clear. Okay?»
Paul Bonner took an envelope from his tunic. He opened it and removed three typewritten pages, handing them to Trevayne. The first was a listing of available government offices; it read like a real-estate prospectus. The second was a Xerox copy of the names Andrew had given Frank Baldwin almost two weeks ago—before the terrible events at the Plaza. They were the names of those men and women Andy wanted on his staff; the major positions. There were eleven: four lawyers, three accountants, two engineers—one military, one civilian—and two secretaries. Of the eleven, five had enigmatic checks beside their names. The third page was again a list of names—all unfamiliar to Trevayne. To the right of each was a one-word description of his or her employment classification and the previous government position held. Trevayne looked over at Major Bonner.
«What the hell is this?»
«Which?»
Andrew held up the last page. «This list here. I don’t know any of these people.»
«They’ve all been cleared for high-intermediate-level security employment.»
«That’s what I thought. And I assume these checks …» Trevayne held up the second page, his list. «They mean these people haven’t been cleared?»
«No. As a matter of fact, they have.»
«And six haven’t?»
«That’s right.»
Andrew removed the first two pages and placed them on the coffee table. He took the last page and carefully folded it, then proceeded to tear the fold in half. He held out the torn paper for Bonner. The Major reluctantly approached and took it. «Your first job, Major, is to deliver this back to whoever gave it to you. I’ll hire my own staff. Get those pretty little checks inked in for those other six people.»
Bonner started to speak and then hesitated as Trevayne picked up the pages from the coffee table and sat down on the couch. Finally Bonner took a long breath and addressed the civilian.
«Look, Mr. Trevayne, nobody cares who you hire, but they’ve got to submit to security checks. This substitution list just makes it easier, quicker.»
«I’ll bet it does,» mumbled Trevayne, marking off addresses on the office sheet. «I’ll try not to employ anyone in the pay of the Presidium… This suite at the Potomac Towers; isn’t that an apartment building?»
«Yes. Government lease has fourteen months to run. It was rented last year for an engineering project, and then the funds were cut… It’s out of the way, though. It might be inconvenient.»
«What would you suggest?»
«Someplace nearer Nebraska or New York Avenue. You’ll probably be seeing a lot of people.»
«I’ll pay for the taxis.»
«I hadn’t thought of it that way. I just assumed they’d be calling on you.»
«Very good, Major.» Trevayne rose from the chair and looked at the officer. «There’re five places I’ve checked off. Look them over and tell me what you think.» He crossed to Bonner and handed him the page. «I’ve some phone calls to make; I’ll use the bedroom. Then we’ll get going. Have some more coffee.»
Trevayne went into the bedroom and closed the door. There was no sense in waiting any longer to call Madison. He’d have no place to make the call other than a government office or a pay phone. It was quarter to eleven; Madison should be routined and calm by now.
«Andy, I’m still shook up,» said the attorney, sounding very much relaxed. «It’s simply terrible.»
«I think I should tell you the rest. That’s pretty terrible, too.»
He did, and Walter Madison was, as Trevayne expected, stunned.
«Did Gillette give you any indication that he’d spoken to the others?»
«No. I gathered he hadn’t. He said he was going to call a reopening in the morning.»
«He might have gotten too much resistance for that… Andy, do you think the accident was anything else?»
«I keep wondering, but I can’t come up with a reason that makes sense. If it wasn’t an accident and he was killed because he was going to reopen the hearing—that means they, whoever they are, if they are, want me to chair the subcommittee. I can understand someone wanting me out; I can’t understand anyone wanting to make sure I’m in.»
«And I can’t buy the theory that these extremes would be used. Money, persuasion, even outright influence; that’s possible. Certainly not killing. As I gathered from the reports, that isn’t feasible anyway. His car couldn’t have gone into the water; the rail was too high. It couldn’t have been forced into a roll; it simply slid sideways and threw the old man into the frame… It was an accident, Andy. Simply terrible, but an accident.»
«I think it has to be.»
«Have you spoken to anyone about this?»
Trevayne was about to tell Madison the truth, that he’d been in touch with Webster at the White House.
Instead, he hesitated. Not for any reason related to Walter’s confidence, only because he felt an obligation to the President. To mention Webster would mean involving the President of the United States—the office, if not the man.
«No. No, I haven’t. Just to Phyllis, that’s all.»
«We may want to change that, but for the time being, telling me is sufficient. I’ll phone around and let you know.»
«Who are you going to call?»
For several seconds Walter Madison said nothing, and both men recognized the awkwardness of the moment. «I don’t know yet. I haven’t had time to think. Perhaps a couple of the men at the hearing, the ones I met. Easy enough to do; I’m solicitous, my client wants to know if he should make a statement. Anything… I’ll get the drift.»