As he pressed himself against the bark and waited, Bonner recalled how often he had employed this tactic—using the light of the sun at dawn or a low moon at night—to singularly ambush a scout or an infiltrator.
He was good. He knew the jungles.
What did the beavers know?
The man came into view. He was awkwardly sidestepping his way through the woods, shouldering the branches, his eyes on the road, his pistol raised, prepared to fire at any moving thing. He was about fifteen feet from Paul, concentrating on the obscured outline of the Army vehicle.
Paul picked the least obstructed path between himself and the man with the gun and prejudged the timing. He would have to divert the stranger for a second or two; do it in such a way as to cause him to stop at precisely that spot where their paths would meet. He reached down and felt the ground for a rock, a stone. He found one, rose to his feet, and silently counted off the man’s steps.
He threw the rock with all his strength just above the heavy ground cover toward the car on the road. The sound of the rock’s impact on the automobile’s hood caused the man to freeze, to fire his reloaded pistol repeatedly. There were five puffs from the silencer, and by the time the man crouched instinctively for protection, Bonner was on him.
He simultaneously grabbed the man’s hair and right wrist, crashing his left knee into the gunman’s rib cage with enormous force. Paul could hear the crack of the bone tissue as the man screamed in anguish. The pistol dropped, the neck wrenched back, blood matted the scalp where the hair was torn from the flesh.
It was over in less than ten seconds.
The man with the gun was immobilized, pain wracking his entire body—but, as Bonner had planned, not unconscious.
He pulled the man out of the woods to the car and threw him into the front. He ran around, got in the driver’s seat, and sped down the remaining dirt road to the Trevayne driveway.
The immobilized gunman wept and groaned and pleaded for aid.
Paul remembered that the drive in front of Trevayne’s house had an offshoot that led to a large, four-car garage to the left of the main building. He drove into it and pulled the Army vehicle up to an open garage door. There was no automobile inside, so he entered, and as he did so, the man beside him began moaning again in pain. Bonner parked the car, grabbed the man’s coat so that the head fell forward, and clenched his fist as tightly as he could. He then punched the anguished man just below the chin line so the blow would render him instantly unconscious, but with no danger of death.
In a way, the Major reflected, it was a humanitarian gesture; there was nothing quite so painful as broken ribs. He turned off the lights and got out of the car.
Running back toward the front entrance, he saw that the door was open. The maid, Lillian, was standing in the light.
«Oh, Major Bonner. I thought I heard a car. How are you, sir?»
«Fine, Lillian. Where’s Mr. Trevayne?»
«He’s downstairs in his study. He’s been on the phone since he arrived. I’ll ring down and tell him you’re here.»
Paul remembered Andy’s soundproof study that overlooked the water. He wouldn’t have heard the car. Or anything else, for that matter. «Lillian, I don’t want to alarm you, but we’ve got to turn off all the lights. We’ve got to do it quickly.»
«I beg your pardon.» Lillian was a modern servant but retained the old traditions. She accepted orders from her employers, not from guests.
«Where is the phone to Mr. Trevayne’s study?» asked Bonner as he stepped into the hallway. There was no time to convince Lillian.
«Right there, sir,» answered the maid, pointing to a telephone by the staircase. «Third button, and press ‘Signal.’»
«Paul! What are you doing here?»
«We can discuss that—argue it, if you like—later. Right now I want you to tell Lillian to do as I say. I want all the lights off… I’m serious, Andy.»
Trevayne didn’t hesitate. «Put her on.»
Lillian uttered four words. «Right away, Mr. Trevayne.»
If she hurried, thought Bonner as he looked through to the living room and recalled the few lights on upstairs, it shouldn’t take her long. He couldn’t take time to help her; he had to talk to Trevayne.
«Lillian, when you’ve finished, come downstairs to Mr. Trevayne’s study. There’s nothing to worry about. I just want to make sure he doesn’t have to meet with someone … he doesn’t wish to see. It would be embarrassing for both of them.»
The explanation worked. Lillian sighed, half-humorously. She would be calm now; Paul had eliminated the essential fear. He started for the lower-level staircase, which was at the rear of the hallway, careful to keep his walk relaxed. Once on the stairs, he took them three at a time.
Trevayne was standing by his desk, its surface covered with torn-off pages of a yellow pad. «For God’s sake, what is it? What are you doing here?»
«You mean, neither Sam nor Alan called you?»
«Sam did. You left in a hurry. Is this … current tactic so you can take me apart? The Army way. You could probably do it.»
«Oh, shut up! Not that you haven’t given me reason.» Bonner crossed to the single large window.
«You’re right. I’m sorry. I thought it was necessary.»
«Don’t you have curtains or a shade here?»
«They’re electric. Buttons on either side. Here, I’ll show—»
«Stay back there!» Bonner barked his order sharply as he found the button and two slatted, vertical blinds came out of each side of the window. «Jesus! Electronic shades.»
«My brother-in-law; he’s obsessed with gadgets.»
«One Douglas Pace. Two Lear jets. Chartered between such diverse locations as San Francisco, San Bernardino, Houston, Boise, Tacoma, and Dulles Airport.» The blind closed, and Bonner turned to face Trevayne. For several moments neither spoke.
«You’ve put your well-known resourcefulness to work, haven’t you, Paul?»
«It wasn’t difficult.»
«I don’t imagine it was. I’ve been engaged in a little behind-the-lines work myself. It’s overrated.»
«You’re understaffed. You don’t know what you’ve left back there… Someone’s after you, Andy. I judge no more than a couple of miles—if we’re lucky.»
«What are you talking about?»
Bonner told him as rapidly as possible, before the maid came downstairs. Trevayne’s reaction to the patrols at the hospital was immediate, panicked concern for Phyllis. Paul reduced the issue by explaining the precautions he’d taken. He minimized the encounter in the Barnegat woods, saying only that the injured man was unconscious in Trevayne’s garage.
«Do you know anyone named Mario?»
«De Spadante,» answered Andy without a pause.
«The Mafia boss?»
«Yes. He lives in New Haven. He was in San Francisco a couple of days ago. His people tried to cover for him, but we assume it was him.»
«He’s the one on his way here.»
«Then we’ll see him.»
«All right, but on our terms. Remember, he was able to remove the patrol. That connects him with someone—someone very important—in Washington. His man tried to kill me.»
«You didn’t put it that way.» Andrew replied in a monotone, as if he didn’t quite believe Paul.