«In what, General?»
«You know perfectly well! The erosion of military influence; the accelerated lessening of defense necessities. We’re paid to uphold this country’s state of preparedness, not watch it disintegrate!»
«I read you, General.» And Bonner did. Except he suddenly had grave doubts about his superior’s ability to cope with the situation. Cooper was spewing out Pentagon clichés as though they were biblical revelations. He was not thoroughly in control of himself, and the circumstances called for absolute stability. And at this moment of doubt, Bonner made a decision he knew was not his to make. He would withhold the detailed specifics of why he came to Washington from Cooper. At least for the time being, until he spoke to Trevayne.
«… since you condescend to agree with me, Major, I’ll expect you in my office by nineteen hundred. That’s an hour and fifteen minutes.» Cooper had been talking, but Paul was barely aware of it. In some unconscious way he had dismissed his superior officer.
«General, if that’s an order, I’ll obey, of course. But I submit, sir, that every minute I spend not trying to reach Trevayne could have serious consequences… He’ll listen to me.»
There was a pause on the other end of the line, and Bonner knew he’d win. «What will you tell him?»
«The truth—as I see it. He’s been talking to the wrong person. A maladjusted psychopath. Perhaps more than one; it’s happened before. And if this source is symptomatic of his other contacts—and it probably is, they all know each other—he should be told that he’s getting biased data.»
«Where is he now?» Bonner could sense the slight relief in the General’s voice.
«All I know is that he’s in Washington. I think I can find him.»
Paul could hear Cooper inhale over the wire. The brigadier was struggling to make his decision seem wise and strong and well-thought-out, when in reality it was the only decision that could be made. «I’ll expect you to phone me with a progress report by twenty-three hundred. I’ll be at home.»
Bonner was tempted to dispute the order; he had no intention of calling the General at twenty-three hundred. Unless he was doing absolutely nothing.
After lighting one of his infrequent cigarettes, Bonner again picked up the phone and called a friend he knew was on a twelve-to-eight post at Army G-2. A minute later he had the telephone number of Senator Mitchell Armbruster’s office and home.
He found him at home.
«Senator, I have to locate Andrew Trevayne.»
«Why call me?» The total lack of expression in Armbruster’s voice betrayed him. And like the tumblers in a lock falling into place, Bonner suddenly understood the meaning of Sam Vicarson’s notation: «10:00-11:30 S.A. Qu.»
Senator Armbruster had been in a quorum call on the Senate floor; the call was scheduled between those times, and Trevayne had to know it if he wanted to intercept the man.
«I don’t have time for explanations, Senator. I assume you met with Trevayne around noon…» Bonner paused to hear a denial or a confirmation. There was none, which was the same as the latter. «It’s imperative I find him. In quick words, he’s been given highly misleading information; information that compromises a great many people who are completely above reproach—you among them, sir.»
«I have no idea what you’re talking about, Major … Bonner, was it?»
«Senator! There’s a hundred and seventy-eight million dollars that Defense can substantiate as a long-standing priority request. Does that give you some idea?»
«I have nothing to say…»
«You may have if I don’t find Trevayne and tell him he’s been dealing with enemies of this country! I can’t put it any plainer.»
Silence.
«Senator Armbruster!»
«He instructed the cab to take him to Dulles Airport.» The same expressionless voice.
«Thank you, sir.»
Bonner slammed down the phone. He leaned back in the Lieutenant Colonel’s chair and brought his hand to his forehead. Oh Christ! he thought, the age of instant mobility! He reached for the telephone once again and called Traffic Control, Dulles.
The Lear jet under charter to Douglas Pace had left the airport at two-seventeen in the afternoon. Destination: Westchester, New York. Arrival time: three-twenty-four.
So Trevayne had gone home—or near home. And if that was so, he would see his wife—especially under the strained circumstances. Of course, he’d go to his wife! It was inconceivable that he wouldn’t. Andy had that rare thing, a wife he liked—beyond the love, thought Bonner. Trevayne would travel miles, take hours, to be in her company, even for short periods of time. Most married men he knew would travel miles and take hours to avoid theirs.
Paul walked to the door, opened it, and looked for the Lieutenant Colonel. He was standing by a complex panel of instruments studying some pages on a clipboard.
«Colonel, I need a pilot. Would you have my plane refueled and checked out as soon as possible?»
«Hey, wait a minute, Major. We don’t run Andrews Field for your personal convenience!»
«I need a pilot, Colonel. Mine’s been on call for over twenty-four hours.»
«That could just be your problem.»
«Colonel, do you want General Cooper’s private telephone number and you tell him it’s my problem? I’ll be happy to give it to you.»
The Lieutenant Colonel lowered the clipboard and searched the face of the Major. «You’re with counter-intelligence, aren’t you?»
Bonner waited a few seconds before making his reply. «You know I can’t answer that.»
«Which gives me my answer.»
«Do you want the General’s private number?»
«You’ll have your pilot… When do you want to be airborne?»
Paul looked up at the numerous dials on the wall. It was just seven o’clock, eastern time.
«An hour ago, Colonel.»
29
Bonner had gotten the name of the private hospital from 1600 Security. He then processed a driving route from Andrews Transport, secured a vehicle to be at his disposal once he arrived at Westchester, and thanked the Lieutenant Colonel with as much sincerity as he could muster.
The vehicle turned out to be a motor-pool sedan which an Army corporal from some totally obscure post in Nyack, New York, had driven over to the Westchester airport.
Since the Corporal expected he would be the Major’s driver, Bonner gave him twenty dollars to find his way back to his unmapped base in Nyack. The Major also informed the Corporal that there was no point in his returning before noon on the following day, and gave him a note so specifying. The Corporal was delighted.
Bonner drove up to the open iron gates of the hospital and entered the circular drive. The clock on the dashboard read nine-thirty-five. There were no automobiles in the circle; two illuminated signs directed cars to a parking lot on the far side of the building. Bonner was not about to be so directed. Instead, he clung to the right of the driveway—so as to let other cars pass—and parked half on the grass. There were flurries of snow descending; wet, not sticking to the ground for long before melting. He got out of the car and automatically expected the 1600 Patrol to approach. It was, after all, an Army vehicle. He was prepared to deal with them. Explain, if necessary; which, of course, it would be.