Code to Zero (2000)

Anthony protested: You ought to trust me. We've been friends for two decades.'

Yeah, and you got me into trouble on our first date.'

There was a smile in Anthony's voice as he said: 'Are you still mad about that?'

Billie softened. 'Hell, no. I want to trust you. You're my son's godfather.'

I'll explain everything if you'll meet me tomorrow.'

She almost agreed, then she remembered what he had done. You didn't trust me, last night, -did you? You went behind my back, right in my own hospital.'

'I told you, I can explain-'

You should have explained before you deceived me. Tell me the truth or I'll go to the FBI the minute I hang up. You choose.'

It was dangerous to threaten men - it often made them obstinate. But she knew how the CIA hated and feared interference from the FBI, especially when the Agency was working on the borderline of legality, which was most of the time. The Feds, who jealously guarded their exclusive right to hunt spies within the USA, would relish the chance to investigate illegitimate acts by the CIA on American soil. If whatever Anthony was doing was strictly on the up-and-up, then Billie's threat was empty. But if he were overstepping the limits of the law, he would be scared.

He sighed. 'Well, I'm on a pay phone, and I guess it's unlikely your line is tapped.' He paused. You may find this hard to believe.'

Try me.'

'Well, here goes. Luke is a spy, Billie.'

For a moment she was dumbstruck; then she said: 'Don't be absurd.'

'He's a communist, an agent for Moscow.'

'For Christ's sake! If you think I'm going to fall for that-'

'I'm past caring whether you believe it or not' Anthony's tone was suddenly harsh. 'He's been passing rocket secret to the Soviets for years. How do you think they managed to put their Sputnik into orbit while our satellite was still on the laboratory bench? They're not ahead of us scientifically, for God's sake! They have the benefit of all our research as well as their own. And Luke is responsible.'

'Anthony, we've both known Luke for twenty goddamn years. He's never been interested in politics!

'That's the best cover of all.'

Billie hesitated. Could it be true? No doubt a serious spy would pretend to have no interest in politics, or even to be a Republican. 'But Luke wouldn't betray his country.'

'People do. Remember, when he was with the French Resistance he was working with the communists. Of course, they were on our side then, but obviously he continued after the war. Personally, I think the reason he didn't many you was that it would conflict with his work for the Reds 'He married Elspeth.'

Yeah, but they never had children.'

Billie sat down on the stairs, feeling stunned. 'Do you have evidence?'

'I have proof - top-secret blueprints he gave to a known KGB officer.'

She was bewildered now, not knowing what to believe. 'But even if all this is true - why did you wipe out his memory?'

'To save his life.'

Now she was totally baffled. 'I don't understand.'

'Billie, we were going to kill him.'

'Who was going to kill him?'

'Us, the CIA. You know the army is about to launch our first satellite. If this rocket fails, the Russians will dominate outer space for the foreseeable future, the way the British dominated America for two hundred years. You have to understand that Luke was the worst threat to American power and prestige since the war. The decision to terminate him was made within an hour of our finding out about him.'

'Why not just put him on trial as a spy?'

'And have the whole world know that our security is so lousy the Soviets have been getting all our rocket secrets for years? Think what that would do to American influence - especially in all these underdeveloped countries that are flirting with Moscow. That option wasn't even tabled.'

'So what happened?'

'I persuaded them to try this. I went right to the top. Nobody knows what I'm doing, except the Director of the CIA and the President And it would have worked, if Luke hadn't been such a resourceful fucking bastard. I could have saved Luke and kept the whole thing secret If only he had believed that he lost his memory after a night of heavy drinking; and lived the life of a bum for a while, I could have kept the lid on. Even he would never have known what secrets he gave away.'

Billie had a selfish moment. You didn't hesitate to blight my career.'

'To save Luke's life? I didn't think you'd want me to hesitate.'

'Don't be so goddamn blase, it always was your worst fault.'

'Anyway, Luke fouled up my plan - with your help. Is he with you now?'

'No.' Billie felt the hairs prickle on the back of her neck.

. 'I need to talk to him before he does himself any more damage. Where is he?'

Acting on instinct, Billie lied. 'I don't know.'

'You wouldn't hide anything from me, would you?'

'Sure I would. You've already said your organization wanted to kill Luke. It would be dumb of me to tell you where he is, if I knew. But I don't.'

'Billie, listen to me. I'm his only hope. Tell him to call me, if you want to save his life.'

'I'll think about it,' Billie said; but Anthony had already hung up.

.

8.30 P. M.

The instrument compartment has no doors or access 'hatches. To work on equipment inside, engineers at Cape Canaveral have to lift the entire cover. This is awkward but saves precious weight, a critical factor in the struggle to break free of Earth's gravity.

Luke put down the phone with a shaky hand.

Bern said: 'For Christ's sake, what did she say? You look like a ghost!'

'Anthony says I'm a Soviet agent,' Luke told him.

Bern narrowed his eyes, 'And...?'

'When the CIA found me out, they were going to kill me, but Anthony persuaded them that it would be just as effective to wipe my memory.

'A vaguely plausible story,' Bern said coolly.

Luke was devastated. 'Jesus Christ, could it be true?'

'Hell, no.'

You can't be sure of that'

'Yes, lean.'

Luke hardly dared to hope. 'How?'

'Because I was a Soviet agent'

Luke stared at him. What now? 'We could both have been agents, without knowing about each other,' he said.

Bern shook his head. 'You ended my career.'

'How?'

'You want some more coffee?'

'No, thanks, it's making me dizzy.'

'You look like hell. When did you last eat?'

'Billie gave me some cookies. Forget food, will you? Tell me what you know.'

Bern stood up. 'I'm going to make you a sandwich, before you faint.'

Luke realized he was painfully hungry. 'That sounds great'

They went into the kitchen. Bern opened the refrigerator and took out a loaf of rye bread, a stick of butter, some corned beef, and a bermuda onion. Luke's mouth began to water.

'It was in the war,' Bern said as he buttered four slices of bread. The French Resistance was divided into Gaullists and communists, and they were maneuvering for post-war position. Roosevelt and Churchill wanted to make sure the communists couldn't win an election. So the Gaullists were getting all the guns and ammunition.'

'How did I feel about that?'

Bern layered corned beef, mustard, and onion rings on the bread. 'You didn't have strong feelings about French politics, you just wanted to beat the Nazis and go home. But I had another agenda. I wanted to even things up,'

'How?'

'I tipped off the communists about a parachute drop we were expecting, so they could ambush us and steal our ordnance.' He shook his head ruefully. 'They screwed up royally. They were supposed to run into us on our way back to base, apparently by accident, and demand a friendly share-out Instead, they attacked us at the drop point, as soon as the stuff hit the ground. So you knew we had been betrayed. And I was the obvious suspect.'

'What did I do?'

You offered me a deal. I had to stop working for Moscow, right then, and you would keep quiet about what I had done, for ever.'

'And...?'

'Bern shrugged. 'We both kept our promises. But I don't think you ever forgave me. Anyhow, our friendship was never the same afterwards.'

A grey Burmese cat appeared from nowhere and meowed, and Bern tossed a sliver of meat to the floor. The cat ate it delicately and licked its paws.

Luke said: 'If I'd been a communist, I would have covered up for you.'

'Absolutely.'

Luke began to believe in his own innocence. 'But I might have become a communist after the war.'

'No way. It's something that happens to you when you're young, or not at all.'

That made sense. 'I might have spied for money, though.'

'You don't need money. Your family is wealthy.'

That was right Elspeth had told him. 'So Anthony is mistaken.'

'Or lying.' Bern sliced the sandwiches and put them on two non-matching plates. 'Soda?'

'Sure.'

Bern took two bottles of Coke from the refrigerator and opened them. He handed Luke a plate and a bottle, picked up his own, and led the way back into the living room..

Luke felt like a starved wolf. He finished the sandwich in a. few bites. Bern was watching with amusement 'Here, have mine,' he said.

Luke shook his head. 'No, thanks.'

'Go ahead, take it. I ought to go on a diet anyway.'

Luke took Bern's sandwich and tore into it.

Bern said: 'If Anthony is lying, what was his real reason for making you lose your memory?'

Luke swallowed. 'It has to be connected with my sudden departure from Cape Canaveral on Monday.'

Bern nodded. 'Too much of a coincidence otherwise.'

'I must have learned something very important, so important that I had to rush to the Pentagon to talk to them about it'

Bern frowned. 'Why didn't you tell the folks at Cape Canaveral what you had learned?'

Luke considered. 'It must be that I didn't trust anyone there.'

'Okay. Then, before you got to the Pentagon, Anthony intercepted you.'

'Right. And I guess I trusted him, and told him what I had found out 'And then?'

'He thought it was so important that he had to wipe my memory to make sure the secret never got out'

'I wonder what the hell it was.'

'When I know that, I'll understand what happened to me.'

'Where will you start?'

'I guess my first step is to go to my hotel room and look through my stuff. Maybe I'll find a clue.'

'If Anthony wiped your memory, he must have gone through your possessions too.'

'He would have destroyed any obvious clues, but there may be something he didn't recognize as relevant Anyway, I have to check.'

'And then?'.

'The only other place to look would be Cape Canaveral. I'll fly back tonight...' He checked his watch. It was after nine o'clock. 'Or tomorrow morning.'

'Stay the night here,' Bern said.

'Why?'

'I don't know. I don't like the idea of you spending the night alone. Go to the Carlton, pick up your stuff, and come back here. I'll take you to the airport in the morning.'

Luke nodded. Feeling awkward, he said: 'You've been a heck of a good friend to me over this.'

Bern shrugged. 'We go back a long way.'

Luke was not satisfied with that 'But you just told me that after that incident in France, our friendship was never the same.'

'That's true.' Bern gave Luke a candid look. Tour attitude was that a man who betrayed you once would betray you twice.'

'I can believe that,' Luke said thoughtfully. 'I was wrong, though, wasn't I?'

Yes,' Bern said. You were.'

.

9.30 P. M.

The instrument compartment tends to overheat prior to take-off. The solution to this problem is typical of the crude but effective engineering of the rushed Explorer project. A container of dry ice is attached electromagnetically to the outside of the rocket. A thermostat switches on a fan whenever the compartment gets warm. Just before take-off, the magnet is disconnected and the cooling mechanism falls to the ground.

Anthony's yellow Cadillac Eldorado was parked on R Street between 15th and 16th, tucked in behind a line of taxis waiting to be summoned by the doorman of the Carlton Hotel. Sitting in the car, Anthony had a clear view of the hotel's curving driveway and brightly lit carriage porch. Pete was in the hotel, using the room he had rented, waiting for a phone call from one of the agents who were watching out for Luke all over town.

A part of Anthony hoped that none of them would call, that Luke would somehow make his escape.. Then, at least, Anthony would be able to avoid making the most painful decision of his life. The other part of him was desperate to find out where Luke was and deal with him.

Luke was an old friend, a decent man, a loyal husband and a terrific scientist. It made no difference in the end. During the war, they had all killed' good men who just happened to be on the wrong side. Luke was on the wrong side in the Cold War. It was knowing the guy that made it so hard.

Pete hurried out of the building. Anthony rolled down the window. Pete said: 'Ackie called in. Luke is at the apartment on Massachusetts Avenue, Bernard Rothsten's place.'

'At last,' Anthony said. He had posted agents outside Bern's building and Billie's house, anticipating that Luke might go to his old friends for help, and it gave him bleak satisfaction to have been right.

Pete added: 'When he leaves, Ackie will follow him on the motorcycle.'

'Good.'

'Do you think he'll come here?'

'He may. I'll wait' There were two more agents in the hotel lobby who would alert Anthony if Luke should go in by another entrance. 'The other main possibility is the airport'

'We have four men there.'

'Okay. I think we have all the exits covered.'

Pete nodded. 'I'll get back to the phone,'

Anthony brooded over the scene to come. Luke would be confused and uncertain, wary but keen to question Anthony. Anthony would try to get Luke alone somewhere. Once they were on their own, it would only be a few seconds before Anthony had the chance to draw the silenced gun from the inside pocket of his topcoat Luke would make a last-second bid for life. It was not his nature to accept defeat He would jump at Anthony, or dive at the window, or run for the door. Anthony would be cool, he had killed before, he would keep his nerve; He would hold the gun steady and pull the trigger, aiming for Luke's chest, firing several times, confident of stopping Luke. Luke would fall. Anthony would move close to him, check his pulse, and if necessary administer the coup de grace. And his oldest friend would be dead.

There would be no trouble about it Anthony had the dramatic evidence of Luke's betrayal, the blueprints with Luke's handwriting on them. He could not actually prove that they had been taken from a Soviet agent but his word was good enough for the CIA.

He would dump the body somewhere. It would be found, of course, and there would be an investigation. Sooner or later the police would discover that the CIA had been interested in the victim, and would start asking questions; but the Agency was experienced in fending off inquiries. The police would be told that the Agency's link, with the victim was a matter of national security and therefore top secret but had nothing to do with the murder.

Anyone who questioned that - cop, journalist, politician - would be subjected to a loyalty investigation. Friends, neighbours and relatives would be interviewed by agents who referred darkly to suspected communist affiliations. The investigation would never reach any conclusion, but all the same it would destroy the credibility of the subject.

A secret agency could do anything, he thought with grim confidence.

A taxicab pulled into the hotel's driveway, and Luke got out He was wearing a navy topcoat arid a grey hat that he must have bought or stolen sometime today. Across the street, Ackie Horwitz pulled up on his motorcycle. Anthony got out of his car and strolled toward the hotel entrance.

Luke looked strained, but wore an expression of grim determination. Paying the taxi driver, he glanced at Anthony but did not recognize him. He told the driver to keep the change, then walked into the hotel. Anthony followed.

They were the same age, thirty-seven. They had met at Harvard when they were eighteen, half a lifetime ago.

That it should come to this, Anthony thought bitterly. That it should come to this.

Luke knew he had been followed from Bern's apartment by a man on a motorcycle. Now he was strung taut, all his senses on alert.

The lobby of the Carlton looked like a grand drawing room, full of reproduction French furniture. Opposite the entrance, the reception desk and concierge's desk were set into alcoves so that they did not spoil the regular rectangle of the space. Two women in fur coats chatted with a group of men in tuxedos near the entrance to the bar. Bellhops in livery and desk staff in black tailcoats went about their business with quiet efficiency. It was a luxurious place, designed to soothe the nerves of jangled travelers. It did nothing for Luke.

Scanning the room, he quickly identified two men who had the air of agents. One sat on an elegant sofa reading a newspaper, the other stood near the elevator, smoking a cigarette. Neither looked as if he belonged here. They were dressed for work, in raincoats and business suits, and there was a daytime look to their shirts and ties. They definitely were not out for an evening in expensive restaurants and bars.

He thought of walking right out again - but where would that leave him? He approached the reception desk, gave his name, and asked for the key to his room. As he turned away, a stranger spoke to him. 'Hey, Luke!'

It was the man who had walked into the hotel behind him. He did not look like an agent, but Luke had vaguely noticed his appearance: he was tall, about Luke's height, and might have been distinguished, except that he was carelessly dressed. His expensive camel-hair topcoat was old and worn, his shoes looked as if they had never been shined, and he needed a haircut However, he spoke with authority.

Luke said: I'm afraid I don't know who you are. I've lost my memory.'

'Anthony Carroll. I'm so glad I've caught up with you at last!' He held out his hand to shake.

Luke tensed. He still did not know whether Anthony was enemy or friend. He shook hands and said: 'I have a lot of questions to ask you.'

'And I'm ready to answer them.'

Luke paused, staring at him, wondering where to begin. Anthony did not look- like the kind of man who would betray an old friend. He had an open, intelligent face, not handsome but appealing. In the end Luke said: 'How the hell could you do this to me?'

'I had to do it - for your own good, I was trying to save your life.'

'I'm not a spy.'

'It's not that simple.'

Luke studied Anthony, trying to guess what was in his mind. He could not decide whether he was telling the truth. Anthony looked earnest There was no expression of slyness on his face. All the same, Luke felt sure he was holding something back. 'No one believes your story about my working for Moscow.'

'Who is no one?'

'Neither Bern nor Billie.'

'They don't know everything.'

'They know me.'

'So do I.'

'What do you know that they don't?'

'I'll tell you. But we can't talk here. What I have to say is classified. Shall we go to my office? It's five minutes away.'

Luke was not going to Anthony's office, not before a whole lot of questions had been answered to his satisfaction. But he could see that the lobby was not a good place for a top-secret conversation. 'Let's go to-my suite/ he 'said. That would get him away from the other agents, but leave him in control: Anthony on his own would not be able to overpower him. . Anthony hesitated, then seemed to make up his mind and said: 'Sure.'

They crossed the lobby and entered the elevator. Luke checked the number on his room key: 530. 'Fifth floor,' he said to the operator. The man closed the lift gate and threw the lever.

They did not speak as they went up. Luke looked at Anthony's clothes: the old coat, the rumpled suit, the nondescript tie. Surprisingly, Anthony managed to wear his untidy garments with something of a careless swagger.

Suddenly, Luke saw that the soft material of the coat sagged slightly on the right side. There was a heavy object in the pocket He felt cold with fear. He had made a bad mistake.

He had not thought that Anthony would have a gun.

Trying to keep his face expressionless, Luke thought furiously. Could Anthony shoot him right here in the hotel? If he waited until they were in the suite, no one would see. What about the noise? The gun might have a silencer.

As the elevator stopped at the fifth floor, Anthony unbuttoned his coat.

For a fast draw, Luke thought They stepped out Luke did not know which way to go, but Anthony confidently turned right He must have been to Luke's room already.

Luke was sweating under his topcoat He felt as if this sort of thing had happened to him before, more than once, but a long time ago. He wished he had kept the gun of the cop whose finger he had broken. But he had had no idea, at nine o'clock this morning, what he was involved in - he had thought he had simply lost his memory.

He tried to make himself calm. It was still one man against another. Anthony had the gun, but Luke had guessed Anthony's intentions. It was about even.

Walking along the corridor, his heart racing, Luke looked for something to hit Anthony with: a heavy vase, a glass ashtray, a picture in a solid frame. There was nothing.

He had to do something before they entered the room.

Could he try to take the gun away from Anthony? He might succeed, but it was risky. The gun could easily go off in the struggle, and no telling which way it might be pointing at the crucial moment They reached the door and Luke took out his key. A bead of perspiration ran down his face. If he went inside, he was dead.

He unlocked the door and pushed it open.

'Come in,' he said. He stood aside to let his guest enter first Anthony hesitated, then walked past Luke and through the doorway. Luke hooked his foot around Anthony's right ankle, and put both hands flat on Anthony's shoulder blades, and pushed hard. Anthony went flying. He crashed into a small Regency table, knocking over a large vase of daffodils. In desperation he grabbed at a brass floor lamp with a pink silk shade, but the lamp fell with him.

Luke pulled the door shut and ran for his life. He hurtled along the corridor. The elevator had gone. He burst through the Fire Exit door on to the staircase and ran down. On the next floor, he crashed into a maid carrying a stack of towels. 'I'm sorry!' he called as the maid screamed and towels flew everywhere.

A few seconds later, he reached the foot of the staircase. He found himself in a narrow corridor. To one side, up a short flight of steps, through a small archway, he could see the lobby.

Anthony knew, before he did it, that it was a mistake to enter the room first; but Luke left him no choice. Fortunately he was not seriously hurt After a stunned moment, he picked himself up. He turned, strode to the door, and opened it. Looking out, he saw Luke baring along the corridor. As he gave chase, Luke turned aside and disappeared, presumably into the stairwell.

Anthony followed, running as fast as he could, but he was afraid he might not be able to catch Luke, who was at least as fit as he. Would Curtis and Malone in the lobby have the sense to apprehend Luke?

On the next floor down, Anthony was momentarily delayed by a maid who was kneeling on the floor, picking up scattered towels. Anthony guessed Luke had crashed into her. He cursed, and slowed his pace to maneuver around her. As he did so, he heard the elevator arrive. His heart leaned: maybe he was in hick.

A dressed-up couple emerged, obviously tipsy from a celebration in the restaurant Anthony barged past them into the elevator and said: 'Ground floor, and quick about it'

The man slammed the doors and threw the lever.

Anthony stared impotently at the descending floor numbers as they lit up in slow succession. The elevator reached the ground floor. The door slid aside and he stepped out.

Luke emerged into the lobby next to the elevator doors. His heart sank. The two agents he had spotted earlier were now standing in front of the main entrance, blocking his way out A moment later, the elevator door opened beside him and Anthony stepped out He had to make a split-second decision: fight or flee.

He did not want to fight three men. They would almost certainly overpower him. Hotel security would join in. Anthony would show his CIA identification, and everyone would defer to him. Luke would end up in custody.

He turned and ran back along the corridor, into the depths of the hotel. Behind him, he heard the pounding footsteps of Anthony giving chase. There had to be a back entrance - supplies could not possibly be delivered through the main lobby.

He pushed through a curtain and found himself in a little courtyard decorated like a Mediterranean outdoor cafe. A few couples were swaying on a small dance floor. Barging between the tables, he made it to an exit door. A narrow corridor stretched away to his left He ran along it. He must be near the back of the hotel now, he figured, but he could see no way out He emerged into a kind of butler's pantry, where the finishing touches were applied to dishes cooked elsewhere. Half a dozen uniformed waiters were heating food in chafing dishes and arranging plates on trays. In the middle of the room was a staircase leading down. Luke pushed through the waiters and took the stairs, ignoring a voice that called: 'Excuse me, sir! You can't go down there!' As Anthony charged after him, the same voice said indignantly 'What is this, Union Station?'

In the basement was the main kitchen, a sweaty purgatory where dozens of chefs cooked for hundreds of people. Gas jets flared, steam billowed, saucepans bubbled. Waiters shouted at cooks, and cooks shouted at kitchen hands. They were too busy to pay attention to Luke as he dodged between the refrigerators and the ranges, die plate stacks and die barrels of vegetables.

At the back of the kitchen, he found a staircase going up. He guessed it led to the delivery entrance. If not, he would be cornered. He took die chance and raced up the stairs. At the top, he burst through a pair of doors into the cold night air.

He was in a dark yard. A dim lamp over the door showed him giant garbage bins and stacked wooden pallets that looked as if they had contained fruit. Fifty yards away to his right was. a high wire fence with a closed gate and, beyond that, a street which his sense of direction told him must be 15th.

He ran for the gate. He heard the door behind him bang open, and guessed that Anthony had come out And they were alone.

He reached the gate. It was closed and secured with a big steel padlock. If only a pedestrian would come strolling by, Anthony would be afraid to shoot. But there was none.

Heart pounding, Luke scrambled up the fence. As he reached the top, he heard the discreet cough of a silenced pistol. But he felt nothing. It was a hard shot, a moving target fifty yards away in the dark, but not impossible. He flung himself over the top. The pistol coughed again.. He staggered 'and fell to the ground. He heard a third muffled shot He sprang to his feet and ran, heading east The gun did not speak again.

At the corner, he looked back. Anthony was nowhere in sight He had escaped.

Anthony's legs felt weak. He put a hand against the cold wall to steady himself. The yard smelled of rotting vegetables. He felt as if he were breathing corruption.

It had been the hardest thing he had ever done. By comparison, killing Albin Moulier had been easy. Pointing his gun at the figure of Luke scrambling over a wire fence, he had almost been unable to pull the trigger.

This was the worst possible outcome. Luke was still alive - and, having been shot at, he was on full alert, determined to learn the truth.

The kitchen door burst open, and Malone and Curtis appeared. Anthony discreetly slid the gun back into his inside pocket Then, panting, he said: 'Over the fence - go after him.' He knew they would not catch Luke.

When they were out of sight, he started to look for the slugs.

.

10.30 P. M.

The design of the rocket is based on the V2 bomb used against London during the war. The engine even looks the same. The accelerometers, relays and gyros are all out of the V2. The pump for the propellants uses hydrogen peroxide passed over a cadmium catalyst, releasing energy that drives a turbine - and this, too, comes from the V2.

Harold Brodsky made a good dry martini, and Mrs. Riley's tuna bake was as tasty as promised. For dessert, Harold served cherry pie and ice cream. Billie felt guilty. He was trying so hard to please her, but her mind was on Luke and Anthony, their shared past and their puzzling new entanglement While Harold made coffee, she called home and checked that all was well with Larry and Becky-Ma. Then Harold suggested they move to the living room and watch television. He produced a bottle of expensive French brandy and poured generous measures into two oversize snifters. Was he trying to stiffen his own courage, Billie wondered, or lower her resistance? She inhaled the vapours of the cognac but did not drink any.

Harold, too, was thoughtful. He was normally an entertaining talker, witty and clever, and she generally laughed a lot when she was with him, but tonight he was preoccupied.

They saw a thriller called Run, Joe, Run! Jan Sterling played a waitress involved with ex-gangster Alex Nichol. Billie could not get interested in the imaginary dangers on the screen. Her mind drifted to the mystery of what Anthony had done to Luke. In OSS they had broken all kinds of laws, and Anthony was still in clandestine work, but all the same Billie was shocked that he had gone this far. Surely different rules applied in peacetime?

And what was his motive? Bern had called and told her of his confession to Luke, and that had confirmed what all her instincts told her, that Luke could not be a spy. But did Anthony believe it? If not, then what was the real reason for what he had done?

Harold turned off the TV and poured himself another brandy. 'I've been thinking about our future,' he said.

Billie's heart sank. He was going to propose. If he had done it yesterday, she would have accepted him. But today she could hardly think about it.

He took her hand. 'I love you,' he said. 'We get on well, we have the same interests, and we both have a child - but that's not why. I believe I'd want to marry you if you were a waitress who chewed gum and liked Elvis Presley.'

Billie laughed.

He went on: 'I just adore you, for no reason other than you're you. I know it's real, because it's happened to me before, just once, with Lesley. I loved her with all my heart, until she was taken away from me. So I'm not in any doubt. I love you, and I want us to be together for ever.' He looked at her, then said: 'How do you feel?'

She sighed. 'I'm fond of you. I'd like to-go to bed with you, I think it would be great' He raised his eyebrows at this, but did not interrupt 'And I can't help thinking how much easier life would be if I had someone to share the burdens.'

'This is good.

'Yesterday, it would have been enough. I would have said yes, I love you, let's get married. But today I met someone from my past, and I remembered what it was like to be in love at the age of twenty-one.' She gave him a candid look. 'I don't feel that way about you, Harold.'

He was not totally discouraged. 'Who does, at our age?'

'Maybe you're right' She wished she could be crazy and wild again. But it was a foolish desire for a divorcee with a seven-year-old. To give herself time, she lifted the brandy goblet to her lips.

The doorbell rang.

Billie's heart leaped.

'Who the heck is that?' Harold said angrily. 'I hope Sidney Bowman doesn't want to borrow my car jack at this time of night' He got up and went out to the hall.

Billie knew who it was. She put down her brandy untouched, and stood up.

She heard Luke's voice at the door. 'I need to talk to Billie.'

Billie wondered why she was so inordinately pleased.

Harold said: 'I'm not sure she wants to be disturbed right now.'

'It's important.'

'How did you know she was here?'

'Her mother told me. I'm sorry, Harold, I don't have time to dick around.' Billie heard a thump, followed by a cry of protest from Harold, and she guessed Luke had forced his way into the house. She went to the door and looked into the hallway. 'Just hold your horses, Luke,' she said. 'This is Harold's house.' Luke had ripped his coat and lost his hat, and he looked very shaken. 'What's happened now?' she said.

'Anthony shot at me.'

Billie was shocked. 'Anthony?' she said. 'My God, what got into him? He shot at you?

Harold looked scared. 'What's this about a shooting?'

Luke ignored him. 'It's time to tell someone in authority about all this,' he said to Billie. 'I'm going to the Pentagon. But I'm worried I may not be believed. Will you come and back me up?'

'Sure,' she said. She took her coat off the hall stand.

Harold said: 'Billie! For God's sake - we were in the middle of a very important conversation.'

Luke said: 'I really need you.'

Billie hesitated. It was very hard on Harold. He had obviously been planning this moment for some time. But Luke's life was in danger. I'm sorry,' she said to Harold. 'I have to go.' She lifted her face to be kissed, but he turned away.

'Don't be like that,' Billie said. 'I'll see you tomorrow.'

'Get out of my house, both of you,' Harold said furiously.

Billie walked out, with Luke behind her, and Harold slammed the door.

.

11 P. M.

The Jupiter programme cost 40 million dollars in 1956 and 140 million in 1957. In 1958 the figure is expected to be more than 300 million.

Anthony found some hotel stationery in the desk drawer of the room Pete had rented. He took out an envelope. From his pocket he took three distorted slugs and three cartridge cases, the rounds he had fired at Luke. He put them into the envelope and sealed it, then stuffed it into his pocket He would dispose of it at the first opportunity.

He was doing damage control. He had very little time, but he had to be meticulous. He needed to wipe out all trace of this incident The work helped to distract his mind from the self-loathing that tasted so bitter in his mouth.

The assistant manager on duty came into the room, looking wrathful. He was a small, neat man with a bald head. 'Sit down, please, Mr. Suchard,' Anthony said. He showed the man his CIA identification.

'CIA!' Suchard said, and his indignation began to deflate.

Anthony took a business card from his billfold. 'The card says State Department, but you can always reach me at that number if you need me.'

Suchard handled the card as if it might blow up. 'What can I do for you, Mr. Carroll?' He had a slight accent which Anthony thought might be Swiss.

'First, I want to apologize for the little fracas we had earlier.'

Suchard nodded primly. He was not going to say it was okay. 'Fortunately, few guests noticed anything. Only the kitchen staff and a few waiters saw you chasing the gentleman.'

'I'm glad we didn't disrupt your fine hotel too much, even over a matter of national security.'

Suchard raised his eyebrows in surprise. 'National security?' x 'Of course, I can't give you the details ...'

'Of course.'

'But I hope I can rely on your discretion.'

Hotel professionals prided themselves on their discretion, and Suchard nodded vigorously. 'Indeed, you can.'

'It may not be necessary even to report the incident to your manager.'

Anthony took out a roll of bills. 'The State Department has a small fund for compensation in these instances.' He peeled off a twenty. Suchard accepted it 'And if any staff members seem discontented, perhaps ...' He slowly counted another four twenties and handed them over.

It was a huge bribe for an assistant manager. 'Thank 'you, sir,' said Suchard. 'I'm sure we can meet your requirements.'

'If anyone should question you, it might be best to say you saw nothing.'

'Of course.' Suchard stood up. 'If there's anything else...'

'I'll be in touch.' Anthony nodded dismissively, and Suchard left Pete came in. 'The head of security for the army at Cape Canaveral is Colonel Bill Hide,' he said. 'He's staying at the Starlite Motel.' He handed Anthony a slip of paper with a phone number, and went out again.

Anthony dialed the number and got through to Hide's room. 'This is Anthony Carroll, CIA, Technical Services Division,' he said.

Hide spoke with a slow, unmilitary drawl, and sounded as if he might have had a couple of drinks. 'Well, what can I do for you, Mr. Carroll?'

'I'm calling about Dr Lucas.'

'Oh, yes?'

He seemed faintly hostile, and Anthony decided to butter him up. 'I would appreciate your advice, if you could spare me a moment at this late hour, Colonel.'

Hide warmed up. 'Of course, anything I can do.'

That was better. 'I think you know that Dr Lucas has been behaving strangely, which is worrying in a scientist in possession of classified information.'

'It sure is.'

Anthony wanted Hide to feel in charge. 'What would you say is his mental state?'

'He seemed normal last time I saw him, but I talked to him a few hours ago and he told me he'd lost his memory.'

'There's more to it than that. He stole a car, broke into a house, got in a fight with a cop, stuff like that'

'My God, he's in worse shape than I thought'

Hide was buying the story, Anthony thought with relief. He pressed on. 'We think he's not rational, but you know him better than we do. What would you say is going on?' Anthony held his breath, hoping for the right answer.

'Hell, I think he's suffering some kind of breakdown.' This was exactly what Anthony wanted Hide to believe - but now Hide thought it was his own idear, and he proceeded to try to convince Anthony. 'Look, Mr. Carroll, the army wouldn't employ a nutcase on a top secret project Normally, Luke is as sane as you or me. Obviously something has destabilized him.'

'He seems to think there's some kind of conspiracy against him - but you're saying we shouldn't necessarily credit that'

'Not for a minute.'

'So we should soft-pedal this stuff. I mean, we shouldn't alert the Pentagon.'

'God, no,' Hide said worriedly. 'In fact, I'd better call them and warn them that Luke seems to have lost his marbles.'

'As you wish.'

Pete came in and Anthony raised one finger for him to wait He softened his voice and said into the phone: 'By happenstance, I'm an old friend of Dr and Mrs. Lucas. I'm going to try to persuade Luke to seek psychiatric help.'

'That sounds like a good idea.'

'Well,- thank you, Colonel. You've set my mind at rest, and we will proceed along the lines you have suggested.'

You're welcome. If there's anything you want to ask me or discuss with me, call me any time.'

'I sure will.' Anthony hung up.

Pete said: 'Psychiatric help?'

'That was just for his benefit' Anthony reviewed the situation. There was no evidence here at the hotel. He had prejudiced the Pentagon against any report Luke might make. That just left Billie's hospital.

He stood up. 'I'll be back in an hour,' he said. 'I want you to stay here. But not in the lobby. Take Malone and Curtis and bribe a room-service waiter to let you into Luke's suite. I have a feeling he'll come back.'

'And if he does?'

'Don't let him get away again - no matter what'

.

12 MIDNIGHT

The Jupiter C missile uses Hydyne, a secret, high-energy fuel that is 12 percent more powerful than the alcohol propellant used in the standard Redstone missile. A toxic, corrosive substance, it is a blend of UDMH - unsymmetrical dimethyl hydrazine - and diethylene triamine.

Billie drove the red Thunderbird into the parking lot of the Georgetown Mind Hospital and killed the engine. Colonel Lopez from the Pentagon pulled alongside her in a Ford Fairlane painted olive drab. 'He doesn't believe a word I say,' Luke said angrily.

'You can't blame him,' Billie reasoned. 'The assistant manager of the Carlton says no one was chased through the kitchens, and there are no cartridge cases on the ground at the loading dock.' 'Anthony cleaned up the evidence.' 'I know that, but Colonel Lopez doesn't' 'Thank God I've got you to back me up.' They got out of the car and walked into the building with the colonel, a patient Hispanic man with an intelligent face. Billie nodded to the receptionist and led the two men up the stairs and along the corridor to the records office.

I'm going to show you the file of a man named Joseph Bellow, whose physical characteristics match Luke's,' she explained.

The colonel nodded.

Billie went on: You'll see that he was admitted on Tuesday, treated, then discharged at 4 a.m. on Wednesday. You have to understand that it's very unusual for a schizophrenic patient to be given treatment without observation first And I hardly need to tell you that it's unheard of for a patient to be released from a mental hospital at four o'clock in the morning.'

'I understand,' Lopez said non-commit tally.

Billie opened the drawer, pulled out the Bellow file, put it on the desk, and opened it.

It was empty. 'Oh, my God,' she said.

Luke stared at the cardboard folder in disbelief. 'I saw the papers myself less than six-hours ago!'

Lopez stood up with a weary air. 'Well, I guess that's it'

Luke had the nightmare feeling that he was living in a surreal world in which people could do what they liked to him, shoot at him and mess with his mind, and he could never prove it had happened. 'Maybe I am schizophrenic,' he said somberly.

'Well, I'm not,' Billie said. 'And I saw that file too.'

'But it's not here now,' said Lopez.

'Wait,' Billie said. 'The daily register will show his admission.; It's kept at the reception desk.' She slammed the file drawer shut They went down to the lobby. Billie spoke to the receptionist 'Let me see the register, please, Charlie.'

'Right away, Dr Josephson.' The young black man behind the counter searched around for a moment. 'Dang, where did that thing go?' he said. .

Luke muttered: 'Jesus Christ'

The receptionist's face darkened with embarrassment 'I know it was here a couple of hours ago.'

Billie's face was like thunder. 'Tell me something, Charlie. Has Dr Ross been here tonight''

Yes, maam. He left a few minutes ago.'

She nodded. 'Next time you see him, ask him where the register went He knows.'

'I sure will.'

Billie turned away from the desk.

Luke said angrily: 'Let me ask you something, Colonel. Before we saw you tonight, had someone else talked to you about me?'

Lopez hesitated. Yes.'

'Who?'

Reluctantly, he said: 'I guess you're entitled to know. We got a call from a Colonel Hide down in Cape Canaveral. He said the CIA had been watching you and they reported that you were behaving irrationally.'

Luke nodded grimly. 'Anthony again.'

Billie said to Lopez: 'Hell, I can't think of anything else we can do to convince you. And I don't really blame you for not believing us, when we have no evidence.'

'I didn't say I don't believe you,' Lopez said.

Luke was startled, and looked at the colonel with new hope.

Lopez went on: 'I could believe you imagined that a CIA man chased you around the Carlton Hotel and shot at you in the alley. I might even accept that you and Dr. Josephson conspired to pretend there used to be a file and it disappeared. But I don't believe that Charlie here is in on the conspiracy. There must be a daily register, and it's gone. I don't think you took it -why would you? But then who did? Someone has something to hide.'

'So you believe me?' Luke said.

'What's to believe? You don't know what this is all about. I don't know either. But something sure as hell is going on. And I believe it must have to do with that rocket we're about to launch.'

'What'll you do?'

'I'm going to order a full security alert at Cape Canaveral. I've been there, I know they're lax. Tomorrow morning they won't know what's hit them.'

'But what about Anthony?'

'I have a friend at the CIA I'm going to tell him your story, and say I don't know whether it's true or not, but I'm concerned.'

'That's not going to get us far!' Luke protested. 'We need to know what's going on, why they wiped my memory!'

'I agree,' Lopez said. 'But I can't do any more. The rest is up to you.'

'Christ,' Luke said. 'So I'm on my own.'

'No, you're not,' said Billie. 'You're not on your own.'

.

1 A. M.

The new fuel is based on a nerve gas and is very dangerous. It is delivered to Cape Canaveral on a special train equipped with nitrogen to blanket it if any escapes. A drop on the skin will be absorbed into the bloodstream instantly and will be fatal. The technicians say: 'If you smell fish, run like hell.'

Billie drove fast, handling the Thunderbird's three-speed manual gear change with confidence. Luke watched in admiration. They sped through the quiet streets of Georgetown, crossed the creek to downtown Washington, and headed for the Carlton.

Luke felt energized. He knew who his enemy was, he had a friend at his side, and he understood what he had to do. He was mystified by what had happened to him, but he was determined to unravel the mystery, and impatient to get on with it Billie parked around the corner from the entrance. I'll go first,' she said. 'If there's anyone suspicious in the lobby, I'll come right out again. When you see me take my coat off, you'll know it's all clear.'

Luke was not comfortable with this plan. 'What if Anthony's there?'

'He won't shoot me.' She got out of the car.

Luke contemplated arguing with her and decided against it She was probably right. He presumed that Anthony had thoroughly searched his hotel room, and had destroyed anything he thought might be a clue to the secret he so badly wanted to keep. But Anthony also needed to maintain a semblance of normality, to support the fiction that Luke had lost his memory after a drinking bout. So Luke expected to find most of his own stuff. That would help him reorient himself. And there might be a clue that Anthony had overlooked.

They approached the hotel separately, Luke remaining on the opposite side of the street He watched Billie go in, enjoying her jaunty walk and the swing of Her coat He could see through the glass doors into the lobby. A porter approached her immediately, suspicious of a glamorous woman arriving alone so late at night He saw her speak, and guessed she was saying: 'I'm Mrs. Lucas, my husband will be along in a moment' Then she took off her coat Luke crossed the road and entered the hotel.

For the porter's benefit he said: 'I want to make, a call before we go upstairs, honey.' There was an internal phone on the reception desk, but he did not want the porter to hear his conversation. Next to the reception desk was a little lobby that had a payphone in an enclosed booth with a seat Luke went inside. Billie followed him and closed the door. They were very close together. He put a dime in the slot and called the hotel. He angled the handset so that Billie could hear. Tense though he was, he found it deliciously exciting to be so near to Billie.

'Sheraton-Carlton, good morning.'

It was morning, he realized - Thursday morning. He had been awake for twenty hours. But he did not feel sleepy. He was too tense. 'Room five-thirty, please.'

The operator hesitated. 'Sir, it's past one o'clock -is this an emergency?'

'Dr Lucas asked me to call no matter how late.'

'Very good.'

There was a pause, then a ringing tone. Luke felt very conscious of Billie's warm body in a purple silk dress. He had to resist the urge to put his arm around her small, neat shoulders and hug her to him.

After four rings, he was ready to believe that the room was empty - then the phone was picked up. So Anthony, or one of his men, was lying in wait That was a nuisance; but Luke felt better knowing where the enemy was deployed.

A voice said: 'Hello?' The tone was uncertain. It was not Anthony, but it might have been Pete.

Luke put on a tipsy voice. 'Hey, Ronnie, this is Tim. We're all waitin' for ya!'

The man grunted with irritation. 'Drunk/ he muttered, as if speaking to someone else. You got the wrong room, buddy.'

'Oh, gee, I'm sorry, I hope I didn't wake-' Luke broke off as the phone was hung up.

'Someone there,' Billie said.

'Maybe more than one.'

'I know how to get them out.' She grinned. 'I did it in Lisbon, during the war. Come on.'

They left the phone booth. Luke noticed Billie discreetly pick up a book of matches from -an ashtray by the elevator. The porter took them up to the fifth floor.

They found Room 530 and went quietly past it Billie opened an unmarked door to reveal a linen closet 'Perfect,' she said in a low voice. 'Is there a fire alarm nearby?'

Luke looked around and saw an alarm of the type that could be set off by breaking a pane of glass with the little hammer hanging next to it 'Right there,' he said.

'Good.' In the closet, sheets and blankets stood in neat stacks on slatted wooden shelves. Billie unfolded a blanket and dropped it on the floor. She did the same with several more until she had a pile of loose fabric. Luke guessed what she was going to do, and his conjecture was confirmed when she took a breakfast order from a doorknob and lit it with a match. As it flared up, she put the flame to a pile of blankets. 'This is why you should never smoke in bed,' she said.

As the flames blazed up, Billie piled on additional bed linen. Her face was flushed with heat and excitement, and she looked more alluring than ever. Soon there was a roaring bonfire. Smoke poured out of the closet and began to fill the corridor.

'Time to sound the alarm,' she said. 'We don't want anyone to get hurt'

'Right,' Luke said, and again the phrase came into his mind: They're not collaborators. But now he understood it In the Resistance, blowing up factories and warehouses, he must have worried constantly about innocent French people getting injured.

He grasped the little hammer that hung on a chain next-to the fire alarm. He broke the glass with a light tap and pressed the large red button inside. A moment later, a loud ringing shattered the silence of the corridor.

Luke and Billie retreated along the corridor, moving away from the elevator, until they could only just see the door of Luke's suite through the smoke.

The door nearest them opened and a woman in a nightdress came out. She saw the smoke, screamed, and ran for the stairs. From another door, a man in shirtsleeves emerged with a pencil in his hand, obviously having been working late; then a young couple wrapped in sheets appeared, looking as if they had been interrupted making love; then a bleary-eyed man in rumpled pink pyjamas. A few moments later, the corridor was full of people coughing and fumbling through the smoke toward the stairwell.

The door to Room 530 opened slowly.

Luke saw a tall man step into the corridor. Peering through the murk, Luke thought he had a large wine-coloured birthmark on his cheek: Pete. He drew back to avoid being recognized. The figure hesitated, then seemed to make a decision and joined the rush for the stairs. Two more men came out and followed him.

'All clear.' Luke said.

Luke and Billie entered the suite, and Luke closed the door to keep the smoke out. He took off his coat 'Oh, my God,' said Billie. 'It's the same room.'

She stared around, wide-eyed. 'I can't believe it,' she said. Her voice was hushed, and he could hardly hear her. 'This is the very suite.'

He stood still, watching. She was in the grip of a strong emotion. 'What happened here?' he asked her at last She shook her head wonderingly. 'It's hard to imagine that you don't remember.' She walked around. 'There was a grand-piano in that corner,' she said. 'Imagine - a piano in a hotel room!' She looked into the bathroom. 'And a phone in here, I had never seen a phone in a bathroom.'

Luke waited, Her face showed sadness, and something else he could not quite make out 'You stayed here in the war,' she said at last Then, in a rush, she added: 'We made love here.'

He looked into the bedroom. 'On that bed, I guess.'

'Not just on the bed.' She giggled, then became solemn again. 'How young we were.'

The thought of making love to this enchanting woman was unbearably exciting. 'My God, I wish I could remember,' he said, and his voice sounded thick with desire. , To his surprise, she blushed.

He turned aside and picked up the phone. He dialed the operator. He wanted to make sure the fire did not have a chance to spread. After a long wait, the phone was answered. 'This is Mr. Davies, I sounded the alarm,' Luke said rapidly. 'The fire is in a linen closet near room five-forty.' He hung up without waiting for a reply.

Billie was looking around, her emotional moment over. 'Your clothes are here,' she said.

He went into the bedroom. Lying on the bed were a pale grey tweed sport coat and a pair of charcoal flannel pants, looking as if they had come back from the dry cleaner. He guessed he had worn them on the plane and sent them for pressing. On the floor was a pair of dark tan wingtip shoes. A crocodile belt was neatly rolled up inside one of the shoes.

He opened the drawer of the bedside table and found a billfold, a cheque book and a fountain pen. More interesting was a slim appointments diary with a list of phone numbers in the back. He looked quickly through its pages and found the current week.

Sunday 26th Call Alice (1928)

Monday 27th Buy swim trunks 8.30 a.m. Apex mtg, Vanguard Mtl Tuesday 28th 8 a.m. Bkfst wA. C., Hay Adams coffee shop Billie stood beside him to see what he was reading. She put a hand on his shoulder. It was a casual gesture, but her touch gave him a thrill of pleasure. He said: 'Any idea who Alice might be?'

Tour kid sister.'

'How old?'

'Seven years younger than you, which makes her thirty.'

'So she was born in 1928. I guess I talked to her on her birthday. I could call her now, ask her if I said anything unusual.'

'Good idea.'

Luke felt good. He was reconstructing his life. 'I must have gone to Florida without my swimsuit.'

'Who thinks of swimming in January?'

'So I made a note to buy one on Monday. That morning I went to the Vanguard Motel at eight-thirty.'

'What's an Apex meeting?'

'I think it must have to do with the curve followed by the missile in flight I don't remember' working on it, of course, but I know there's an important and tricky calculation that has to be made. The second stage has to be fired precisely at the apex, .in order to put the satellite into a permanent orbit'

'You could find out who else was at the meeting and talk to them.'

'I will.'

'Then, on Tuesday, you had breakfast with Anthony in the coffee shop of the Hay Adams hotel.'

'After that, there are no appointments in the book.'

He turned to the back of the diary. There were phone numbers for Anthony, Billie and Bern, for Mother and Alice, and twenty or thirty others that meant nothing to him. 'Anything strike you?' he said to Billie. She shook her head.

There were some leads worth following up, but no obvious clues. It was what he had expected, but all the same he felt deflated. He pocketed the diary and looked around the room. A well worn black leather suitcase rested open on a stand. He rummaged through it, finding clean shirts and underwear, a notebook half full of mathematical calculations, and a paperback book called The Old Man and the Sea with a corner turned down at .

Billie looked into the bathroom. Shaving gear, toiletry bag, toothbrush.

Luke opened all the cupboards and drawers in the bedroom, and Billie did the same in the living room. Luke found a black wool topcoat and a black Homburg hat in a closet, but nothing else. 'Zilch,' he called out. 'You?'

Tour phone messages are here on the desk. From Bern, from a Colonel Hide, and from someone called Marigold.'

Luke figured that Anthony had read the messages, judged them harmless, and decided there was no point in creating suspicion by destroying them.

Billie said: 'Who's Marigold, do you know?'

Luke thought for a moment. He had heard the name at some point during the day. It came back to him. 'She's my secretary in Huntsville,' he said. 'Colonel Hide said she had made my flight reservations.'

'I wonder if you told her the purpose of the trip.'

'I doubt it I didn't tell anyone at Cape Canaveral.'

'She's not at Cape Canaveral. And you might trust your own secretary more than anyone else.'

Luke nodded. 'Anything's possible. I'll check. It's the most promising lead so far.' He took out the diary and looked again at the phone numbers in the back. 'Bingo,' he said. 'Marigold - home.' He sat at the desk and dialed the number. He wondered' how much longer he had before Pete and the other agents came back.

Billie seemed to read his mind, and started packing his stuff into the black leather bag.

The phone was answered by a sleepy woman with a slow Alabama accent Luke guessed from her voice that she was black. He said: 'I'm sorry to call so late. Is this Marigold?'

'Dr Lucas! Thank God you've called. How are you?'

'I'm fine, I think, thank you.'

'Well, what in heaven happened to you? No one knew where you were at - and now I hear tell you lost your memory. Is that so?' -

Yes.'

'Well, now, how did that come to pass?'

'I don't know, but I'm hoping you might help me figure it out'

'If I can...'

'I'd like to know why I suddenly decided to go to Washington on Monday. Did I tell you?'

You sure didn't, and I was curious.'

It was the answer Luke expected, but still he felt disappointed. 'Did I say anything that gave you a hint?'

'No.'

'What did I say?'

You said you needed to fly to Washington via Huntsville and you asked me to make reservations on MATS flights.'

MATS was the military airline, and Luke guessed he was entitled to use it when on army business. But there was something he did not understand. 'I flew via Huntsville?' No one else had mentioned that.

You said you wanted to stop over here for a couple of hours.'

'I wonder why.'

'Then you said something kind of strange. You asked me not to tell anyone that you were coming to Huntsville.'

'Ah.' Luke felt sure this was an important clue. 'So it was a secret visit?'

Yes. And I've kept it secret. I've been questioned by army security and the FBI, and I didn't tell either one of them, because you said not to. I didn't know if I was doing right or not, when they said you had disappeared, but I figured I better stick with what you told me. Did I do right?'

'Gosh, Marigold, I don't know. But I appreciate your loyalty.' The fire alarm stopped ringing. Luke realized he had run out of time. 'I have to go now,' he told Marigold. 'Thanks for your help.'

'Well, you bet Now you just take care, hear?' She hung up.

'I've packed your stuff,' Billie said.

'Thanks,' he said. He took his own black coat and hat from the closet and put them on. 'Now let's get out of here before the spooks come back.'

They drove to an all-night diner near the FBI building, around the corner from-Chinatown, and ordered coffee. 'I wonder when the first flight to Huntsville leaves in the morning,' Luke said.

'We need the Official Airline Guide,' Billie said.

Luke looked around the diner. He saw a pair of cops eating doughnuts, four drunk students ordering hamburgers, and two underdressed women who might have been prostitutes. 'I don't think they'll keep it behind the counter here,' he said.

'I bet Bern has one. It's the kind of thing writers like. They're always looking stuff up.'

'He's probably asleep.'

Billie stood up. 'Then I'll wake him. Got a dime?'

'Sure.' Luke still had a pocket full of the change he had stolen yesterday.

Billie went to the payphone beside the restrooms. Luke sipped his coffee, watching her. As she talked into the phone she smiled and tilted her head, being charming to someone she had woken up. She looked bewitching, and he ached with desire for her.

She returned to the table and said: 'He's going to join us and bring the book.'

Luke checked his watch. It was two a.m. I'll probably go straight to the airport from here. I hope there's an early flight'

Billie frowned. 'Is there a deadline?'

'There might be. I keep asking myself: What could have made me drop everything and rush to Washington? It has to be something to do with the rocket. And what could that be if not a threat to the launch?'

'Sabotage?'

Yes. And if I'm right, I have to prove it before ten-thirty tonight'

'Do you want me to fly to Huntsville with you?'

You have to take care of Larry.'

'I can leave him with Bern.'

Luke shook his head. 'I don't think so ... thanks.'

'You always were an independent son of a gun.'

'It's not that,' he said. He wanted her to understand. 'I'd love you to come with me. That's the trouble - I'd like it too much.'

She reached across the plastic tabletop and took his hand. 'It's okay,' she said.

'This is confusing, you know? I'm married to someone else, but I don't know how I feel about her. What's she like?'

Billie shook her head. 'I can't talk to you about Elspeth. You have to rediscover her yourself.'

'I guess so.'

Billie brought his hand to her lips and kissed it softly.

Luke swallowed. 'Did I always like you so much, or is this new?'

'This is riot new.'

'It seems we get on really well.'

'No. We fight like hell. But we adore one another.'

'You said we were lovers, once - in that hotel suite.' 'Stop it' 'Was it good?'

She looked at him with tears in her eyes. 'The best' 'Then how come I'm not married to you?' She began to cry, soft sobs that shook her small frame. 'Because...' She wiped her face and took a deep breath, then started crying again.' At last she blurted out: 'You got so mad at me, you didn't speak to me for five years.'

.

1945

Anthony's parents had a horse farm near Charlottesville, Virginia, a couple of hours from Washington. It was a big white timber-framed house with rambling wings that contained a dozen bedrooms. There were stables and tennis courts, a lake and a stream, paddocks and woodland. Anthony's mother had inherited it from her father, along with five million dollars.

Luke arrived there on the Friday after Japan surrendered. Mrs. Carroll welcomed him at the door. She was a nervous blonde woman who looked as if she had once been very beautiful. She showed him to a small, spotlessly clean bedroom with a polished board floor and a high old-fashioned bed.

He changed out of his uniform - he now held the rank of major - and put on a black cashmere sport coat and grey flannel pants. As he was tying his tie, Anthony looked in. 'Cocktails in the drawing room whenever you're ready/he said.

'I'll be right there,' Luke said. 'Which room is Billie's?'

A worried frown flickered across Anthony's face. 'The girls are in the other wing, I'm afraid,' he said.

'The Admiral is old-fashioned about that sort of thing.' His rather had spent his life in the navy.

'No problem,' Luke said with a shrug. He had spent the last three years moving around occupied Europe at night he would be able to find his lover's bedroom in, the dark.

When he went downstairs at six o'clock he found all his old friends waiting. As well as Anthony and Billie, there were Elspeth, Bern, and Bern's girlfriend Peg. Luke had spent much of the war with Bern and Anthony, and every leave with Billie, but he -had not seen Elspeth or Peg since 1941.

The Admiral handed him a martini and he took a satisfying gulp. This was a time to celebrate if ever there was one. The conversation was noisy and high-spirited. Anthony's mother looked oh with a vaguely pleased expression, and his father drank cocktails faster than anyone else.

Luke studied them all over dinner, comparing them with the golden youths who had been so worried, four years ago, about being expelled from Harvard. Elspeth was painfully thin after three years on iron rations in wartime London: even her magnificent breasts seemed smaller. Peg, who had been a dowdy girl with a big heart, was now smartly, dressed, but her skillfully made-up face looked hardened and cynical. Bern at twenty-seven looked ten years older. This had been his second war. He had been wounded three times, and he had the gaunt face of a man who has known Coo much suffering, his own and other people's.

Anthony had come through best He had seen some action, but had spent most of the war in Washington. His confidence, his optimism and his offbeat humour had survived intact Billie, too, seemed little changed. She had known hardship and bereavement in childhood, and perhaps that was why the war had not bruised her. She had spent two years undercover in Lisbon, and Luke knew though the others did not - that she had killed a man there, cutting his throat with silent efficiency in the yard behind the cafe where he had been about to sell secrets to the enemy. But she was still a small bundle of radiant energy, gay at one moment and fierce at the next, her constantly changing face a study that Luke never tired of.

It was remarkably lucky that they were all still alive. Most such groups would have lost at least one friend. 'We should drink a toast,' he said, lifting his wine glass. 'To those who survived - and those who did not.'

They all drank, then Bern said: 'I have another- To the men who broke the back of the Nazi war machine 'The Red Army.'

They all drank again, but the Admiral looked displeased and said: 'I think that's enough toasts.'

Bern's communism was still strong, but Luke felt sure he was no longer working for Moscow. They had made a deal, and Luke believed Bern had kept the bargain. Nevertheless, their relationship had never returned to its old warmth. Trusting someone was like holding a little water in your cupped hands - it was so easy to spill the water, and you could never get it back. Luke was sad every time he recalled the comradeship he and Bern had shared, but he felt helpless to regain it.

Coffee was served in the drawing room. Luke handed the cups around. As he offered cream and sugar to Billie, she said in a low voice: 'East wing, second floor, last door on the left'

'Cream?'

She raised an eyebrow.

He smothered a laugh and passed on.

At ten-thirty the Admiral insisted the men move to the billiard room. Hard liquor and Cuban cigars were laid out on a sideboard. Luke refused more booze: he was looking forward to sliding between the sheets next to Billie's warm, eager body, and the last thing he wanted to do then was fall asleep.

The Admiral poured himself a big tumbler of bourbon and took Luke to the far end of the room to show him his guns, standing in a locked display rack on the wall. Luke's family were not hunters, and guns to him were for killing people, not animals, so he took no pleasure in them. He also felt strongly that guns and liquor made a bad combination. However, he feigned interest in order to be polite.

'I know and respect your family, Luke,' the Admiral said as they examined an Enfield rifle. 'Your father is a very great man.'

'Thank you,' Luke said. This sounded like the preamble to a rehearsed speech. His father had spent the war helping to run the Office of Price Administration, but the Admiral probably still thought of him as a banker.

'You'll have to think of your family when you choose a wife, my boy,' the Admiral went on.

Yes, sir, I will.' Luke wondered what was on the old man's mind.

'Whoever becomes Mrs. Lucas will have a place waiting for her in the upper reaches of American society. You must pick a girl who can carry that off.'

Luke began to see where this was going. Annoyed, he abruptly put the rifle back in the rack. 'I'll bear that in mind, Admiral,' he said, and he turned away.

The Admiral put a hand on his arm, stopping him. 'Whatever you do, don't throw yourself away.'

Luke glared at him. He was determined not to ask the Admiral what he was getting at He thought he knew the answer, and it would be better if it were not said.

But the Admiral was determined. 'Don't get stuck with that little Jewess - she's not worthy of you.'

Luke gritted his teeth. 'If you'll excuse me, this is something I'd rather discuss with my own father.'

'But your father doesn't know about her, does he?'

Luke flushed. The Admiral had scored a -point Luke and Billie had not met one another's parents.

There had hardly been time. Their love affair had been conducted in snatched moments during a war. But that was not the only reason. Deep in Luke's heart a small, mean-spirited voice told him that a girl from a dirt-poor Jewish family was not his parents' idea of the right wife for their son. They would accept her, he felt sure - indeed, they would come to love her, for all the reasons he loved her. But at first they might be a little disappointed. Consequently, he was eager to introduce her to them in the right circumstances, on a relaxed occasion when they would have time to get to know her.

The fact that there was a grain of truth in the Admiral's insinuation made Luke even angrier. With barely controlled aggression, he said: 'Forgive me if I warn you that these remarks are personally offensive to me.'

The room went quiet, but Luke's veiled threat passed right over the head of the drunk Admiral. 'I understand that, son, but I've lived longer than you, and I know what I'm talking about'

'Pardon me, you don't know the people involved.'

.'Oh, but I think I may know more about the lady in question than you do.'

Something in the Admiral's tone sounded a warning, but Luke was angry enough to ignore it. 'The hell you do,' he said with deliberate rudeness.

Bern tried to intervene. 'Hey, guys, lighten up, will you? Let's shoot some pool.'

But nothing could stop the Admiral now. He put his arm around Luke's shoulders. 'Look, son, I'm a man, I understand,' he said with an assumption of intimacy that Luke resented. 'So long as you don't take matters too seriously, there's no harm in pronging a little Curt, we've all-'

He never finished the sentence. Luke turned towards him, put both hands on his chest, and shoved him away. The Admiral staggered back, arms flailing, and his glass of bourbon went flying through the air.

He tried to regain Jus balance, failed, and sat down hard on the rug. Luke shouted at him: 'Now knock it off before I close your filthy mouth with my fist!'

Anthony, white-faced, grabbed Luke's arm, saying: 'Luke, for Christ's sake, what do you think you're doing?'

Bern stepped between them and the Mien Admiral. 'Calm down, both of you,' he said. '

'The hell with calm,' Luke said. 'What kind of man invites you to his house then insults your girlfriend? It's about time someone taught the old fool a lesson in manners!'

'She is a tart,' the Admiral said from his sitting position. 'I should know, goddam it His voice rose to a roar. 'I paid for her abortion!'

Luke was stunned. 'Abortion?'

'Hell, yes.' He struggled to his feet 'Anthony got her pregnant, and I paid a thousand dollars for her to get rid of the little bastard.' His mouth twisted in a spiteful grin of triumph. 'Now tell me I don't know what I'm talking about'

'You're lying.'

'Ask Anthony.'

Luke looked at Anthony.

Anthony shook his head. 'It wasn't my baby. I told my father it was, so that he'd give me the thousand dollars. But it was your baby, Luke.'

Luke blushed to the roots of his hair. The drunk old Admiral had made a complete fool of him. He was the ignorant one. He thought he knew Billie, yet she had kept something as big as this a secret from him.

He had fathered a child, and his girlfriend had had an abortion, and they knew about it but he did not. He was utterly humiliated.

He stormed out of the room. He crossed the hall and burst into the drawing room. Only Anthony's mother was there: the girls must have gone to bed. Mrs. Carroll saw his face and said: 'Luke, my dear, is something wrong?' He ignored her and went out, slamming the door.

He ran up the stairs and along the east wing. He found Billie's room and went in without knocking.

She was lying naked on the bed, reading, her head resting on her hand, her curly dark hair falling forward like a breaking wave. For a moment, the sight of her took his breath away. Light from a bedside lamp painted a line of gold at the edge of her body, from her neat small shoulder, along her hip, and down one slender leg to her red toenail. But her beauty only made him angrier.

She looked up at him with a happy smile, then her face darkened when she saw his expression.

He yelled: 'Have you ever deceived me?'

She sat upright, scared. 'No, never!'

'That fucking admiral says he paid for you to have an abortion.'

Her face paled. 'Oh, no,' she said.

'Is it true?' Luke shouted. 'Answer me!'

She nodded, began to cry, and buried her face in her hands.

'So you did deceive me.'

'I'm sorry,' she sobbed. 'I wanted to have your baby - wanted it with all my heart. But I couldn't talk to you. You were in France, and I didn't know if you were ever coming back. I had to decide all on my own.' She raised her voice. 'It was the worst time of my life!'

Luke was dazed. 'I fathered a child,' he said.

Her mood changed in a flash. 'Don't get maudlin,' she said scornfully. You weren't sentimental about your sperm when you fucked me, so don't start now -it's too damn late.'

That stung him. 'You should have told me. Even if you couldn't reach me at the time, you should have told me at the first opportunity, the next time I came home on leave.'

She sighed. 'Yes, I know. But Anthony thought I shouldn't tell anyone, and it's not difficult to persuade a girl to keep something like that a secret No one need ever have known, if not for Admiral goddamn Carroll.'

Luke was maddened by the calm way she talked about her treachery, as if the only thing she had done wrong was to get caught, 'I can't live with this,' he said.

Her voice went quiet 'What do you mean?'

'After you've deceived me - and over something so important - how can I ever trust you again?'

She looked anguished. 'You're going to tell me it's over.' He said nothing. She went on: 'I can tell, I know you too well. I'm right, aren't I?'

'Yes.'

She began to cry afresh. You idiot!' she said through the tears. You don't know anything, do you, despite the war.'

'The war taught me that nothing counts as much as loyalty.'

'Bullshit You still haven't learned that when humans are under pressure, we're all willing to lie.'

'Even to people we love?'

'We Be more to our loved ones, because we care about them so damn much. Why do you think we tell the truth to priests and shrinks and total strangers we meet on trains? It's because we don't love them, so we don't care what they think.'

She was infuriatingly plausible. But he despised such easy excuses. 'That's not my philosophy of life.'

'Lucky you,' she said bitterly. 'You come from a happy home, you've never known bereavement or rejection, you have troops of friends. You had a hard war, but you weren't crippled or tortured, and you don't have enough imagination to be a coward. Nothing bad has ever happened to you. Sure, you don't tell lies -for the same reason Mrs. Carroll doesn't steal cans of soup.'

She was incredible - she had convinced herself that he was in the wrong! It was impossible to talk to someone who could fool herself so thoroughly. Disgusted, he turned to leave. 'If that's how you think of me, you must be glad our relationship is over.'

'No, Fm not glad.' Tears ran down her face. 'I love you, I've never loved another guy. I'm sorry I deceived you, but I'm not going to prostrate myself with guilt because I did a bad thing in a moment of crisis.'

He did not want her to prostrate herself with guilt. He did not want her to do anything at all. He just wanted to get away from her and their friends and Admiral Carroll and this hateful house.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, a small voice told him he was throwing away the most precious thing he had ever had, and warned that this conversation would cause him a regret so- bitter that it would bum in his soul for years. But he was too angry, too humiliated, and too painfully wounded to listen.

He went to the door.

'Don't leave,' she pleaded.

'Go to hell,' he said, and he went out.

.

2.30 A. M.

The new fuel and a larger fuel tank have boosted the Jupiter's thrust to a force of 83,000 pounds, and extended the burning time from 121 seconds to 155 seconds.

'Anthony was a true friend to me then,' Billie said. 'I was desperate. A thousand dollars! There was nowhere I could find that kind of money. He got it from his father, and he took the blame. He was a mensch. That's why it's so hard to understand what he's doing now.'

'I can't believe I gave you up,' Luke said. 'Didn't I understand what you'd been through?'

'It wasn't all your fault,' Billie said wearily. 'I thought it was, at the time, but now I can see my own role in the whole mess.' She looked as if the telling of the story had exhausted her.

They sat in silence for a while, hushed by regret Luke wondered how long it would take Bern to drive here from Georgetown; then his thoughts reverted to the story Billie had told. 'I don't much like what I'm learning about myself,' he said after a while. 'Did I really lose my two best friends, you and Bern, just by being unforgiving and pig-headed?'

Billie hesitated, then she laughed. 'Why mince words? Yes, that's exactly what you did.'

'And so you married Bern.'

She laughed again. 'You can be so egocentric!' she said amiably. 'I didn't marry Bern because you left me. I married him because he's one of the best men in the world. He's smart, he's kind, and he's good in bed. It took me years to get over you, but when I did, I fell in love with Bern.'

'And you and I became friends again?'

'Slowly. We always loved you, all of us, even if you could be a stiff-necked son of a gun. I wrote to you when tarry was born, and you came to see me. Then, the following year, Anthony had a huge party on his thirtieth birthday and you showed up. You were back at Harvard, getting your doctorate, and the rest of us were in Washington - Anthony and Elspeth and Peg working for the CIA, me doing research at George Washington University, and Bern writing scripts for radio - but you came to town a couple of times a year, and we would get together.'

'When did I marry Elspeth?'

'Nineteen fifty-four - the year I divorced Bern.'

'Do you know why I married her?'

She hesitated. The answer should have been easy, Luke thought. She should have said: 'Because you loved her - of course!' But she did not. 'I'm the wrong person to answer that question,' she said at last 'I'll ask Elspeth.'

'I wish you would.'.

He looked at her. There was an edge to that last remark. Luke was figuring out how to tease out her meaning when a white Lincoln Continental pulled up outside, and Bern jumped out and came into the diner. Luke said: 'I'm sorry we woke you.'

'Forget it,' Bern said. 'Billie does not subscribe to the belief that when a man is asleep you should leave him be. If she's awake, everyone should be awake. You'd know that, if you hadn't lost your memory. Here.' He tossed a thick booklet on to the table. The cover said: OFFICIAL AIRLINE GUIDE - PUBLISHED MONTHLY. Luke picked it up.

Billie said: 'Look for Capital Airlines - they fly to the south.'

Luke found the right pages. 'There's a plane that leaves at six fifty-five - that's only four hours from now.' He looked more closely. 'But, shit, it stops at every small town in Dixie, and gets to Huntsville at two twenty-three this afternoon, local time.'

Bern put on a pair of spectacles and read over his shoulder. 'The next plane doesn't leave until nine o'clock, but it has fewer stops, and it's a Viscount, so it gets you to Huntsville earlier, a few minutes before noon.'

'I'd get the later plane, but I don't relish hanging around Washington any longer than I have to,' Luke said.

Bern said: You have two more problems. Number one, I think Anthony will have men at the airport.'

Luke frowned. 'Maybe I could leave here by car, and pick up a plane somewhere down the line.' He looked at the timetable. 'The early flight's first stop is a place called Newport News. Where the hell is that?'

'Near Norfolk, Virginia,' Billie said.

'It lands there at two minutes past eight Can I get there in time?'

'It's two hundred miles,' Billie said. 'Say four hours. You can make it with an hour to spare.'

Bern said: 'More, if you take my car. It has a top speed of a hundred and fifteen.'

'You'd lend me your car?'

Bern smiled. 'We've both saved each other's lives. A car is nothing.'

Luke nodded. 'Thanks.'

'But you have a second problem,' Bern said.

'What's that?'

'I was followed here.'

.

3 A. M.

The fuel tanks contain baffles to prevent sloshing. Without the baffles, the movement of the liquid is so violent that it caused a test missile, Jupiter IB, to disintegrate after 93 seconds of flight.

Anthony sat at the wheel of his yellow Cadillac a block from the diner. He had parked tight up against the rear of a truck, so that his distinctive automobile was mostly shielded from view, but he could clearly see the diner and the stretch of sidewalk brightened by the light spilling from its windows. It appeared to be a cop hang-out: there were two patrol cars parked outside, along with Billie's red Thunderbird and Bern's white Continental.

Ackie Horwitz had been stationed outside Bern Rothsten's apartment, with instructions to stay there unless Luke showed up; but, when Bern left in the middle of the night, Ackie had had the good sense to disobey orders and follow on his motorcycle. As soon as Bern arrived at the diner, Ackie had called Q Building and alerted Anthony.

Now Ackie came out of the diner in his motorcycle leathers, carrying a container of coffee in one hand and a candy bar in the other. He came to Anthony's window. 'Lucas is in there,' he said.

'I knew it,' Anthony said with malevolent satisfaction.

'But he's changed his clothes. He has a black coat and a black hat now.'

'He lost his other hat at the Carl ton.'

'Rothsten is with him, and the girl.'

'Who else is in there?'

'Four cops telling dirty jokes, an insomniac reading the early edition of tomorrow's Washington Post, and the cook.'

Anthony nodded. He could not do anything to Luke with the cops present 'We wait here until Luke comes out, then we both follow him. This time; we're not going to lose him.'

'Gotcha.' Ackie went to his motorcycle, behind Anthony's car, and sat in the saddle to drink his coffee.

Anthony planned ahead. They would catch up with Luke in a quiet street, overpower him, and take him to a CIA safe house in Chinatown. At that point Anthony would get rid of Ackie. Then he would kill Luke.

He felt coldly determined. He had suffered a moment of emotional weakness at the Carlton earlier, but afterwards he had hardened his heart, resolving not to think about friendship and betrayal until this was all over. He knew he was doing the right thing. He would deal with regrets after he had done his duty.

The door of the diner opened.

Billie came out first The bright lights were behind her, so Anthony could not see her face, but he recognized her small figure and the characteristic sway of her walk. Next came a man in a black coat and black hat Luke. They went to the red Thunderbird. The figure in the trench coat bringing up the rear got into the white Lincoln.

Anthony started his engine.

The T-bird moved away, followed by the Lincoln. Anthony waited a few seconds, then pulled out Ackie tucked in behind on his motorcycle.

Billie headed west, and the little convoy followed. Anthony stayed a block and a half behind, but the streets were deserted, so they were sure to notice they were being tailed. Anthony felt fatalistic about it. There was no 'further point in deception: this was ;the showdown.

They came to 14th Street and stopped for a red light, and Anthony came up behind Bern's Lincoln. When the light turned green, Billie's Thunderbird suddenly shot forward, while the Lincoln remained stationary.

Cursing, Anthony reversed a few yards, then threw the shift into drive and stamped on the gas pedal. The big car shot forward. He swung around the standing Lincoln and raced after the others.

Billie zigzagged through the neighbourhood at the back of the White House, shooting red lights, defying No Turn signs, and driving the wrong way on one-way streets. Anthony did the same, desperately trying to stay on her tail, but the Cadillac could not match the T-bird for maneuverability, and she drew away.

Ackie passed Anthony and stayed right on Billie's tail. However, as she increased her lead over Anthony, he guessed that her game plan was first to shake the Cadillac by twisting and turning, then get on to a freeway and outrun the motorcycle, which could not match the T-bird's top speed of 125. 'Hell,' he said.

Then luck intervened. Screeching around a corner, Billie ran into a flood. Water was gushing out of a drain at the kerbside, and the entire width of the road was two or three inches under. She lost control of her car. The tail of the Thunderbird swung around in a wide arc, and the vehicle spun through a half-circle. Ackie veered around her, his bike slipped from under him, and he fell off and rolled in the water, but got up immediately. Anthony jammed on the brakes of the Cadillac and skidded to a halt at the intersection. The Thunderbird came to a halt slewed across the street, with its trunk an inch from a parked car. Anthony pulled across its front, blocking it in. Billie could not getaway.

Ackie was already at the driver's door of the Thunderbird. Anthony ran to the passenger side. 'Get out of the cart' he yelled. He drew the gun from his inside pocket The door opened, and the figure in the black coat and hat got out Anthony saw immediately that it was not Luke, but Bern.

He turned and looked back the way they had come. There was no sign of the white Lincoln.

Rage boiled up inside him. They had switched coats, and Luke had escaped in Bern's car. You fucking idiot!' he screamed at Bern. He felt like shooting him on the spot. 'You don't know what you've done!'

Bern was infuriatingly calm.

'Then tell me, Anthony,' he said. 'What have I done?'

Anthony turned away and stuffed the gun back into his coat.

'Wait a minute,' Bern said. 'You've got some explaining to do. What you did to Luke is illegal.'

'I don't have to explain one goddamn thing to you,' Anthony spat.

'Luke's not a spy.'

'How would you know a thing like that?'

'I know.'

'I don't believe you.'

, Bern gave him a hard look. 'Sure you do,' he said. 'You know perfectly well that Luke is not, a Soviet agent. So why the hell are you pretending otherwise?'

'Go to hell,' Anthony said, and he walked away.

Billie lived in Arlington, a leafy suburb on the Virginia side of the Potomac river. Anthony drove along her street. As he passed her house, he saw on the other side of the road a dark-coloured Chevrolet sedan belonging to the CIA. He turned a corner and parked. Billie would come home in the next couple of hours. She knew where Luke had gone. But she would not tell Anthony. He had lost her trust She would stay loyal to Luke now - unless Anthony put her under extraordinary pressure.

So that was what he would do.

Was he crazy? A small voice in his head kept asking if the race was worth the prize. Was there any justification for what he was about to do? He pushed his doubts aside. He had chosen his destiny long ago, and he was not to be deflected from it, not even by Luke.

He opened the trunk of his car and took out a black leather case, the size of a hardcover book, and a pencil flashlight Then he walked back to the Chevy. He slid into the passenger seat beside Pete and sat looking at the dark windows of Billie's little house. He thought: This will be the worst thing I have ever done.

He looked at Pete. 'Do you trust me?' he said.

Pete's disfigured face twisted in an embarrassed grin. 'What kind of question is that? Yes, I trust you.'

Most of the young agents hero-worshipped Anthony, but Pete had an extra reason for being loyal to him. Anthony had discovered something about Pete that could get him fired - the fact that he had once been arrested for soliciting a prostitute - but he had kept it secret Now, to remind Pete of that he said: 'If I did something that seemed wrong to you, would you still back me up?'

Pete hesitated, and when he spoke his voice was choked with emotion. 'Let me tell you something.' He looked ahead, through the windscreen, at the lamplit street You've been like a father to me, that's all.'

'I'm going to do something you won't like. I need you to trust me that it's the right thing to do.'

I'm telling you - you got it.'

I'm going in,' Anthony said. 'Honk if anyone arrives.'

He walked softly up the driveway, circled around the garage and went to the back door. He shone his flashlight through the kitchen window. The familiar table and chairs stood in darkness.

He had lived a life of deception and betrayal, but this, he thought with a surge of self-loathing, was the lowest he had ever sunk.

The kitchen door had an old-fashioned two-way lock with a key on the inside. Anthony could have opened it with a pencil. He put the flask in his mouth, then unzipped the leather case and took out an instrument like a dental probe. He slid it into the keyhole, pushing the key out on the far side! It fell on to the mat with no sound. He misted the probe and unlocked the door.

Silently, he stepped into the darkened house. He knew his way around. He checked the living room first, then Billie's bedroom. Both were empty. Next he looked in on Becky-Ma. She was fast asleep, her hearing aid on the bedside table. Last he went into Larry's room.

He shone his flash on the sleeping child, feeling sick with guilt. He sat on the edge of the bed and switched on the light. 'Hey, Larry, wake up,' he said. 'Come oil.'

The boy's eyes opened. After a disoriented moment, he grinned. 'Uncle Anthony!' he said, and he smiled.

'Time to get up,' Anthony said.

'What time is it?'

'It's early.'

'What are we going to do?'

'It's a surprise,' Anthony said.

.

4.30 A. M.

Fuel shoots into the combustion chamber of the rocket engine at a speed of about 100 feet per second. Burning begins the instant the fluids meet. The heat of the flame soon evaporates the liquids. Pressure rises to several hundred pounds per square inch, and the temperature soars to 5,000 degrees Fahrenheit.

Bern said to Billie: You're in love with Luke, aren't you.'

They were sitting in her car outside his building. She did not want to go in: she was impatient to get home to Larry and Becky-'In love?' she said evasively. 'Am I?' She was not sure how much she wanted to share with her ex-husband. They were friends, but not intimate.

'It's okay,' he said. 'I realized long ago that you should have married Luke. I don't think you ever stopped loving him. You loved me, too, but in a different way.'

That was true. Her love for Bern was a gentle, calm feeling. With him she had never felt the hurricane of passion that engulfed her when she was with Luke. And when she asked herself what she felt for Harold - the easy affection or the whirlwind of excitement - the answer was depressingly obvious. Thinking about Harold gave her a pleasant but mild sense of pleasure. She had little experience of men - the only ones she had slept with were Luke and Bern - but instinct told her that with Harold she would never have the feeling Luke gave her of a sexual craving that left her weak and helpless with desire.

'Luke's married,' she said. 'To a beautiful woman.' She thought for a moment 'Is Elspeth sexy?'

Bern frowned. 'Hard to say. She could be, with the right guy. To me she seemed cold, but she never had eyes for anyone but Luke.'

'Not that it matters. Luke is the faithful type. He'd stay with her if she was an iceberg, just out of a sense of duty.' She paused. 'There's something I have to say to you.'

'Okay.'

'Thank you. For not saying 'I told you so.' I sure appreciate your restraint.'

Bern laughed. You're thinking about our great quarrel.'

She nodded. 'You said my work would be used to brainwash people. Now your prediction has come true.'

'All the same, I was wrong. Your work had to be done. We need to understand the human brain. People may use knowledge to do evil, but we can't hold up scientific progress. But, listen, do you have a theory about what Anthony is up to?'

'Best I could come up with: I imagine Luke discovered a spy down there at Cape Canaveral, and came to Washington to tell the Pentagon about it But the spy is really a double agent, working for us, so Anthony is desperate to protect the guy.'

Bern shook his head. 'Not good enough. Anthony could have dealt with that simply by telling Luke that the spy was a double. He didn't have to wipe his memory.'

'I guess you're right and Anthony shot at Luke a few hours ago. I know this secret agent work tends to go to men's heads, but I can't believe the CIA would actually kill an American citizen to protect a double agent'

'Sure they would,' Bern said. 'But it wouldn't have been necessary. Anthony could just have trusted Luke.'

'Do you have a better theory?'

'No.'

Billie shrugged. 'I'm not sure it matters any more. Anthony has deceived and betrayed his friends - who cares why? Whatever strange purpose has driven him to this, we've lost him. And he was a good friend.'

'Life sucks,' Bern said. He kissed her cheek and got out of the car. 'If you hear from Luke tomorrow, call me.'

'Okay.'

Bern walked into the building, and Billie drove off.

She crossed the Memorial Bridge, skirted the National Cemetery, and zigzagged through the suburban streets to her home. She reversed into the driveway, a habit she had developed because she was usually in a hurry when leaving. She entered the house, hung her coat on the hall stand, and went straight upstairs, unbuttoning her dress and pulling it off over her head as she did so. She threw it over a chair, kicked off her shoes, and went to check on Larry.

When she saw the empty bed, she screamed.

She looked into the 'bathroom, then Becky-Ma's room. 'Larry!' she yelled at the top of her voice. 'Where are you?' She ran downstairs and went into every room. Still in her underwear, she left the house and looked in the garage and the yard. Going back inside, she went into every room again, opening closets and checking under beds, looking into every space large enough to hold a seven-year-old.

He had gone.

Becky-Ma came out of her bedroom, fear written on her lined face. 'What's happening?' she said shakily.

'Where's Larry?' Billie shouted.

'In his bed, I thought,' she said, her voice becoming a moan of misery as she realized what had happened.

Billie stood still for a moment, breathing hard, fighting down panic. Then she went into Larry's bedroom and studied it.

The room was tidy, with no signs of struggle. Checking his closet, she saw the blue teddy-bear pyjamas he had worn last night neatly folded on a shelf. The clothes she had set out for school today had gone. Whatever had happened, he had got dressed before leaving. It looked as if he had gone with someone he trusted.

Anthony.

At first she felt relief. Anthony would not harm Larry. But then she thought again. Wouldn't he? She would have said Anthony would not harm Luke, but he had shot at him. There was no telling any more what Anthony would do. At the very least, Larry must have been frightened, to be woken up so early and made to get dressed and leave the house without seeing his mother.

She had to get him back fast.

She ran downstairs to call Anthony. Before she got to the phone, it rang. She snatched it up. 'Yes?'

'This is Anthony.

'How could you do it?' she screamed. 'How could you be so cruel?'

'I have to know where Luke is,' he said coolly. 'It's unimaginably important'

'He's gone-' She stopped herself. If she gave him the information, she would have no weapons left.

'Gone where?'

She took a breath. 'Where's Larry?'

'He's with me. He's fine, don't worry.'

That enraged her. 'How could I not worry, you dumb prick!'

'Just tell me what I need to know, and everything will be all right'

She wanted to believe him, to blurt out the answer and trust him to bring Larry home, but she resisted the temptation fiercely. 'Listen to me. When I see my son, I'll tell you where Luke is.'

'Don't you trust me?'

'Is that a joke?'

He sighed. 'Okay. Meet me at the Jefferson Memorial.'

She felt a small surge of triumph. 'When?'

'Seven o'clock.'

She checked her watch. It was after six. I'll be there.'

'Billie...'

'What?'

'Be alone.'

'Yeah.' She hung up.

Becky-Ma was standing by her side, looking frail and old. 'What is it?' she said. 'What's going on?'

Billie tried to give an impression of calm. 'Larry's with Anthony. He must have come in and got him while you were asleep. I'm going to pick him up now. We can stop worrying.'

She went upstairs and threw on some clothes. Then she picked up the dressing-table chair and placed it in front of the wardrobe. Standing on the chair, she took a small suitcase from on top of the wardrobe. She placed the case on the bed and opened it She unwrapped a cloth to reveal a .45 Colt Automatic.

They had all been issued with Colts in the war. She had kept hers as a souvenir, but some instinct made her clean and oil it regularly. Once you had been shot at, you were never comfortable unless you had a firearm someplace, she guessed.

She pressed the thumb release on the left side of the grip, behind the trigger, and drew the magazine out of the grip. There was a box of bullets in the case. She loaded seven into the magazine, pushing them in one by one against the spring, then slid the magazine back into the butt until she felt it lock. She worked the slide to chamber a round.

She turned around to see Becky-Ma standing in the doorway, staring at the gun.

She looked back at her mother in silence for a moment Then she ran out of the house and jumped into her car.

.

6.30 A. M.

The first stage contains approximate 25,000 kilograms of fuel. This will be used up in two minutes and thirty-five seconds.

Bern's Lincoln Continental was a joy to drive, a sleek, long-legged car that cruised at a hundred, effortlessly flying over the deserted roads of sleeping Virginia. In getting out of Washington, Luke felt he was leaving the nightmare behind, and his early-hours journey had the exhilarating air of an escape.

It was still dark when he arrived at Newport News and pulled into the small parking lot next to the closed airport building. No lights showed except the solitary bulb of a phone booth next to the entrance. He turned off his engine and listened to the silence. The night was clear, and the airfield was starlit The parked planes seemed peculiarly still, like horses asleep on their feet He had been up more than twenty-four hours, and he felt desperately weary, but his mind was racing. He was in love with Billie. Now that he was two hundred miles away from her, he could admit that to himself. But what did it mean? Had he always loved her? Or was it a one-day infatuation, a repeat of the crush he had developed so quickly back in 1941? And what about Elspeth? Why had he married her? He had asked Billie that, and she had refused to answer. 'I'll ask Elspeth,' he had said.

He checked his watch. He had more than an hour until take-off. There was plenty of time. He got out of the car and went to the phone booth.

She picked up fast, as if she was already awake. The hotel operator advised her that the phone charge would be added to her bill, and she said: 'Sure, sure, put him on.'

Suddenly he felt awkward. 'Uh, good morning, Elspeth.'

I'm so glad you called!' she said. I've been out of my mind with worry - what's happening?'

'I don't know where to begin.'

'Are you okay?'

Yes, I'm fine, now. Basically, Anthony caused me to lose my memory, by giving me a combination of electric shock and drugs.'

'Good God. Why would he do a thing like that?'

'He says I'm a Soviet spy.'

'That's absurd.'

'It's what he told Billie.'

'So you've been with Billie?'

Luke heard the note of hostility in Elspeth's yoke. 'She's been kind,' he said defensively. He recalled that he had asked Elspeth to come to Washington and help him, but she had refused.

Elspeth changed the subject. 'Where are you calling from?'

He hesitated. His enemies might easily have tapped Elspeth's phone. 'I don't really want to say, in case someone is listening.'

'All right, I understand. What are you going to do next''

I need to find out what it was that Anthony wanted me to forget'

'How will you do that?'

'I'd rather not say over the phone.'

Her voice betrayed exasperation. 'Well, I'm sorry you can't tell me anything.'

'Matter of feet, I called to ask you some things.'

'Okay, fire away.'

'Why can't we have children?'

'We don't know. Last year, you went to a fertility specialist, but he couldn't find anything wrong. A few' weeks ago, I saw a woman doctor in Atlanta. She ran some tests. We're waiting for the results.'

'Would you tell me how we came to get married?'

'I seduced you.'

'How?'

'I pretended to have soap in my eye, in order to make you kiss me. It's the oldest trick in the book, and I'm embarrassed that you fell for it'

He could not tell whether she was being amusing, or cynical, or both. 'Tell me what the circumstances were, how I proposed.'

'Well, I didn't see you for years, then we met again in 1954, in Washington,' she began. 'I was still with the CIA. You were working at the Jet Propulsion Laboratory in Pasadena, but you flew in for Peg's wedding. We were seated together at the breakfast' She paused, remembering, and he waited patiently. When she resumed, her voice had softened. 'We talked and talked - it was as if thirteen years had never happened, and we were still a couple of college kids with all of life ahead of us. I had to leave early - I was conductor of the 16th Street Youth Orchestra, and we had a rehearsal. You came with me ...'

.

1954

The children in the orchestra were all poor, and most of them were black. The rehearsal took place at a church hall in a slum neighbourhood. The instruments were begged, borrowed, and bought from pawnshops. They were rehearsing the overture from a Mozart opera, The Marriage of Figaro. Against the odds, they played well.

Elspeth was the reason. She was an exacting teacher, noticing every raise note and rhythmic misstep, but she corrected her pupils with infinite patience. A tall figure in a yellow dress, she conducted the orchestra with enormous verve, her red hair flying, her long, elegant hands drawing the music from them with passionate gestures.

The rehearsal lasted two hours and Luke sat through the whole thing, mesmerized. He could see that all the boys were in love with Elspeth and all the girls wanted to be like her.

'These children have as much music in them as any rich kid with a Steinway in the drawing room,' she said in the car afterwards. 'But I get into lots of trouble.'

'Why, for God's sake?'

I'm called a nigger-lover,' she said. 'And it's pretty much ended my career at the CIA.'

'I don't understand.'

'Anyone who treats Negroes like human beings is suspected of being a communist. So I'll never be more than a secretary. Not that it's a great loss. Women never get higher than case officer anyway.'

She took him to her place, a small, -uncluttered apartment with a few pieces of angular modern furniture. Luke made martinis and Elspeth started to cook spaghetti in the tiny kitchen. Luke told her about his job.

'I'm so happy for you,' she said with generous enthusiasm. You always wanted to explore outer space. Even back at Harvard, when we were dating, you used to talk about it.'

He smiled. 'And in those days, most people thought it was a foolish dream of science-fiction writers,'

'I guess we still can't be sure it will happen.'

'I think we can,' he said seriously. 'The big problems were all solved by German scientists in the war. The Germans built rockets that could be fired in Holland and land on London.'

'I was there, I remember - we called them buzz-bombs.' She shuddered briefly. 'One nearly killed me. I was walking to my office in the middle of an air raid, because I had to brief an agent who was to be dropped into Belgium a few hours later. I heard a bomb go off behind me. It makes a horrible noise like crump, then there's the sound of breaking glass and masonry collapsing, and a kind of wind full of dust and little bits of stone. I knew that if I turned around to look, I'd panic and throw myself to the ground, and just curl up in a ball with my eyes shut So I looked straight ahead and kept walking.'

Luke was moved by the picture of the young Elspeth walking through the dark streets as the bombs fell around her, and he felt grateful that she had survived. 'Brave woman,' he murmured.

She shrugged. 'I didn't feel brave, just scared.'

'What did you think about''

'Can't you guess?'

He recalled that whenever she was idle she thought about math. 'Prime numbers?' he hazarded.

She laughed. 'Fibonacci's numbers.'

Luke nodded. The mathematician Fibonacci had imagined a pair of rabbits that produced two offspring every month, offspring that began to breed at the same rate one month after birth, and asked how many pairs of rabbits there would be after a year. The answer was 144, but the number of pairs of rabbits each month was the most famous - sequence of numbers in mathematics: 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34, 55, 89, 144 ..-. You could always work out the next number by adding up the previous two.

Elspeth said: 'By the time I got to my office, I had worked out the fortieth Fibonacci number.'

'Do you remember what it is?'

'Of course: one hundred and two million, three hundred and thirty-four thousand, one hundred and five. So, our missiles are based on the German buzz-bombs?'

'More on their V2 rocket, to be exact' Luke was not supposed to talk about his work, but this was Elspeth, and anyway she probably had a higher security rating than he did. 'We're building a rocket that can take off in Arizona and explode in Moscow. And, if we can do that, we can fly to the moon.'

'So it's just the same thing on a larger scale?'

She showed more interest in rocketry than any other girl he had ever met. 'Yes. We need larger engines, more efficient fuel, better guidance systems, that kind of thing. None of these problems are insurmountable. Plus, those German scientists are working for us now.'

'I think I heard that.' She changed the subject 'And what about life in general? Are you; dating someone?'

'Not right now.' He had dated several girls since his break-up with Billie nine years ago, and had slept with some of them, but the truth - which he did not want to tell Elspeth - was that none had meant much.

There had been one woman he might have loved, a tall girl with brown eyes and wild hair. She had the kind of energy and joie de vivre that he loved about Billie, He had met her at Harvard while he was doing his doctorate. Late one evening, as they strolled together through Harvard Yard, she had taken his hands and said: 'I have a husband.' Then she had kissed him and walked away. That was the nearest he had come to giving his heart.

'How about you?' he asked Elspeth. 'Peg's married, Billie's already getting divorced - you've got some catching-up to do.'

'Oh, you know about us government girls.' The phrase was a newspaper cliche. So many young women worked for the government in Washington that they outnumbered single men by five to one. Consequently they were stereotyped as sexually frustrated and desperate for dates. Luke did not believe Elspeth was like that, but if she wanted to evade his question, she was entitled.

She asked him to watch the stove while she freshened up. There was a big pan of spaghetti and a smaller one of bubbling tomato sauce. He took off his jacket and tie, then stirred the sauce with a -wooden spoon. The martini had made him mellow, the food smelled good, and he was with a woman he really liked. He felt happy.

He heard Elspeth call out, with an uncharacteristic note of helplessness: 'Luke - could you come here?'

He stepped into the bathroom. Elspeth's dress hung on the back of the door, and she stood in a strapless peach-coloured brassiere and matching half-slip, stockings and shoes. Although she was wearing more clothes than if she had been on the beach, Luke found it unbearably sexy to see her in her underwear. Her hand was to her face. 'I got soap in my eye, damn it,' she said. 'Would you try to wash it out?'

Luke ran cold water into the washbasin. 'Bend down, get your face close to the bowl,' he said, encouraging her with his left hand between her shoulder blades. The pale skin of her back was soft and warm to his touch. He cupped water in his right hand and raised it to her eye.

'That helps,' she said.

He rinsed her eye again and again until she said the stinging had stopped. Then he stood her upright and patted her face dry with a clean towel. Your eye is a little bloodshot, but I guess it's okay,' he said.

'I must look a mess.'

'No.' He looked hard at her. Her eye was red and her hair on that side was wet in patches, but nevertheless she was as stunning as she had been on the day he first set eyes on her, more than a decade ago. You're absolutely beautiful.'

Her head was still tilted up, though he had stopped drying her face. Her lips were parted in a smile. It was the easiest thing in the world to kiss her. She kissed him back, hesitantly at first, then she put her hands behind his neck and pulled his face to hers and kissed him hard.

Her bra pressed against his chest It should have been sexy, but the wiring was so stiff that it scratched his chest through the fine cotton of his shirt. After a moment he pulled away, feeling foolish. 'What?' she said.

He tightly touched the brassiere and said with a grin: 'It hurts.'

'You poor thing,' she said with mock pity.

She reached behind her back and unfastened the bra with a swift movement. It fell to the floor.

He had touched her breasts a few times, all those years ago, but he had never seen them. They were white and round, and the pale nipples were puckered with excitement. She put her arms around his neck and pressed her body to his. Her breasts were soft and warm. 'There,' she said. 'That's how it should feel.'

After a while he picked her up, stepped into the bedroom, and laid her on the bed. She kicked off her shoes. He touched the waistband of her half-slip and said: 'May I?'

She giggled. 'Oh, Luke, you're so polite!'

He grinned. It was kind of silly, but he did not know how else to be. She lifted her hips and he pulled off the slip. Her pink panties matched the rest of her underwear.

'Don't ask,' she said. 'Just take them off.'

When they made love it was slow and intense. She kept pulling his head to hers and kissing his face while he moved in and out of her. 'I've wanted this for so long,' she whispered into his ear; and then she cried out with pleasure, several times, and lay back, exhausted.

Soon Elspeth fell into a deep sleep, but Luke lay awake, thinking about his life.

He had always wanted a family. For him, happiness was a big, noisy house full of children and friends and pets. Yet here he was, thirty-three and single, and the years seemed to go by faster and faster. Since the war, his career had been his priority, he told himself. He had gone back to college, making up for the lost years. But that was not the real reason he was unmarried. The truth was that only two women had ever touched his heart - Billie and Elspeth. Billie had deceived him, but Elspeth was here beside him. He looked at her voluptuous body in the faint glow of the lights of DuPont Circle outside. Could there be anything better than spending every night like this, with a girl who was smart, brave as a lion, wonderful with children, and -on top of all that - stunningly beautiful?

At daybreak he got up and made coffee. He brought it into the bedroom on a tray, and found Elspeth sitting up in bed, looking sleepily delectable. She smiled happily at him.

'I have something to ask you,' he said. He sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand. 'Will you marry me?'

Her smile disappeared and she looked troubled. 'Oh, my God;' she said. 'Can I think about it?'

.

7 A. M.

The exhaust gases pass through the nozzle of the rocket like a cup of hot coffee being poured down the throat of a snowman.

Anthony drove up to the Jefferson Memorial with Larry sitting in the front seat between him and Pete. It was still dark, and the area was deserted. He turned the car around and parked so that its headlights would shine at any other car that came along.

The monument was a double circle of pillars with a domed roof. It stood on a high platform approached by steps at the rear. 'The statue is nineteen feet high and weighs ten thousand pounds,' he told Larry. 'It's made of bronze.'

'Where is it?'

'You can't see it from here, but it's inside those pillars.'

'We should have come in the daytime,' Larry whined.

Anthony had taken Larry out before. They had gone to the White House and the zoo and the Smithsonian. They would get hot dogs for lunch and eat ice cream in the afternoon, and Anthony would buy Larry a toy before taking him home again. They always had a good time. Anthony was fond of his godson. But today Larry knew something was wrong. It was too early and he wanted his mother and he probably sensed the tension in the car.

Anthony opened the door. 'Stay here a second, Larry, while I talk to Pete,' he said. The two men got out Their breath misted in the cold air.

Anthony said to Pete: 'I'll wait here. You take the kid and show him the monument Stay this side, so that she'll see him when she arrives.'

'Right' Pete's voice was cold and abrupt 'I hate this,' Anthony said. In truth, he was past caring. Larry was unhappy, and Billie was frantic with fear, but they would get over it, and he was not going to allow sentiment to get in his way. 'We're not going to harm the kid, or his mother,' he said, trying to reassure Pete. 'But she'll tell us where Luke has gone.'

'Then we give back the kid.'

'No.'

'We don't?' Pete's expression was concealed by the darkness, but his voice betrayed dismay. 'Why not?'

'In case we need more information from her later.'

Pete was troubled, but he would acquiesce, at least for now, Anthony thought. He opened the car door. 'Come on, Larry. Uncle Pete's going to show you the statue.'

Larry got out with careful politeness he said: 'After we've seen it, I think I'd like to go home.'

Anthony's breath caught in his throat Larry's bravery was almost too much. After a moment, Anthony replied in a calm voice: 'We'll check with Mommy. Now go ahead.'

The child took Pete's hand and they walked around the monument toward the steps at the back. A minute later they appeared in front of the pillars, lit by the car's headlights.

Anthony checked his watch. Sixteen hours- from now, the rocket would have taken off, and it would all be over, one way or another. Sixteen hours was a lot, plenty of time for Luke to do unlimited damage. Anthony had to catch him, fast Billie should be here by now. He suffered a pang of doubt. Surely she would come? She was too frightened and panicky to call the cops, or pull any kind of stunt, he felt certain.

He was right. A few moments later, another car arrived. Anthony could not see the colour, but it was a Ford Thunderbird It parked twenty yards from Anthony's Cadillac and a small, slight figure jumped out, leaving the engine running.

'Hello, Billie,' said Anthony.

She looked from him to the monument and saw Pete and Larry up on the raised platform, looking into the circle. She stood frozen, staring.

Anthony walked toward her, 'Don't try anything dramatic - it would upset Larry.'

'Don't talk to me about upsetting him, you son of a bitch.' Her voice cracked with strain. She was near to tears.

'I had to do this.'

'Nobody has to do something like this.'

Her hostility was hardly surprising, but all the same her contempt stung him. He said; 'Do you know the quote from Thomas Jefferson that appears inside this monument, in letters two feet high? It says: 'I have sworn upon the altar of God eternal hostility against every form of tyranny over the mind of man.' That's why I'm doing it'

'The hell with your motives. You've lost sight of whatever ideals you once had. Nothing good can survive this kind of treachery.'

It was a waste of time arguing with her. 'Where's Luke?' he said abruptly.

There was a long pause. At last she said: 'Luke caught a plane to Huntsville.'

Anthony breathed a deep sigh of satisfaction. He had what he needed.

He was also surprised at the answer. 'Why . Huntsville?'

'It's where the army designs the rockets.'

'I know that But why would he go there today? Florida is where it's all happening.'

'I don't know why.'

Anthony tried to read her face, but it was too dark. 'I think you're holding something back.'

'! don't care what you think. I'm going to take my son and leave.'

'No, you're not,' Anthony said. 'We're keeping him for a while.'

Billie's voice was a cry of anguish. 'Why? I've told you where Luke went!'

'There may be other ways you can help us.'

'It's not fair!'

'You'll live.' He turned away.

That was his mistake.

Billie had been half-expecting this.

As Anthony stepped towards his car, she rushed him. With her right shoulder, she hit him in the small of the back. She weighed only 120 pounds, and he had to be fifty pounds heavier, but she had surprise and rage on her side. He stumbled and fell forward, coming down on his hands and knees. He grunted with surprise and pain.

Billie took the Colt from her coat pocket.

As Anthony tried to get up, she charged him again, this time from the side. He crashed to the ground, rolling. As he came face up, she dropped to one knee beside his head and shoved the barrel of the gun forcefully into his mouth. She felt a tooth break.

He froze.

Deliberately, she moved the safety catch up to the firing position. She looked into his eyes and saw fear. He had not expected the gun. A trickle of blood appeared on his chin.

Billie looked up. Larry and the man with him were still gazing at the monument, unaware of the fracas. She returned her attention to Anthony. 'I'm going to take the gun out of your mouth,' she said, panting. 'If you move, I'll kill you. If you're still alive, you're going to call to your colleague and tell him what I say.' She took the gun out of Anthony's mouth and pointed it at his left eye. 'Now,' she said. 'Call him.'

Anthony hesitated.

She touched the barrel of the pistol to his eyelid.

'Pete!' he shouted.

Pete looked around. There was a pause. Pete said in a puzzled tone: 'Where are you?' Anthony and Billie were outside the range of the headlights.

Billie said: Tell him to stay where he is.'

Anthony said nothing. Billie pressed the gun into his eye. Anthony shouted: 'Stay where you are!'

Pete put his hand to his forehead, peering into the dark, looking for the source of the voice: 'What's happening?' he called. 'I can't see you.'

Billie shouted: 'Larry, this is Mom. Get in the T-bird!'

Pete grabbed Larry's arm.

'The man won't let me!' Larry screamed.

'Stay calm!' Billie yelled. 'Uncle Anthony's going to tell the man to let you go.' She pressed the gun barrel harder into Anthony's eye.

'All right!' Anthony cried. She eased the pressure. He shouted: 'Let the kid go!'

Pete said: 'Are you sure?'

'Do what I say, for Christ's sake -she's got a gun on me!'

'Okay!' Pete released Larry's arm.

Larry headed toward the back of the monument then reappeared, seconds later, at ground level. He ran towards Billie. 'Not this way,' she said, struggling to keep her voice calm. 'Get in the car, quickly.'

Larry ran to the Thunderbird and jumped in, slamming the door.

With a quick lashing movement, Billie hit Anthony on both sides of his face with the gun, as hard as she could. He cried out in pain, but before he could move she pushed the gun into his mouth again. He lay still, groaning. She said: 'Remember that if you're ever tempted to kidnap a child again.'

She stood up, withdrawing the gun from his mouth. 'Stay still,' she commanded. She backed towards her car, keeping the gun on him. She glanced up at the monument. Pete had not moved.

She got into her car.

Larry said: 'Have you got a gun?'

She stuffed the Colt inside, her jacket. 'Are you okay?' she asked him. , He started to cry.

She shoved the gearshift into first and tore away.

.

8 A. M.

The smaller rockets that power the second, third and last stages use a solid fuel known as T17-E2, a potysulphide with ammonium perchlorate as oxidizer. Each rocket generates about 1,600 pounds of thrust in space.

Bern poured warm milk over Larry's cornflakes while Billie beat up an egg for French toast. They were giving their child comfort food, but Billie felt the adults needed comfort too. Larry was eating heartily and listening to the radio at the same time.

'I'm going to kill that son of a bitch Anthony,' Bern muttered, speaking quietly so that Larry would not hear. 'I swear to God, I'll rucking kill him.'

Billie's rage had evaporated. Pistol-whipping Anthony had gotten rid of it all. Now she was worried and frightened - partly for Larry, who had had a nasty fright, and partly for Luke. 'I'm afraid Anthony may try to kill Luke,' she said.

Bern dropped a knob of butter into a hot frying pan, then dipped a slice of white bread into the egg mixture Billie had made. 'Luke won't kill easy.'

'But he thinks he's escaped - he doesn't know I've told Anthony where he is.' While Bern fried the egg-soaked bread, Billie walked up and down the kitchen, biting her lip. 'Anthony is probably on his way to Huntsville now. Luke's on a slow plane. Anthony could get a flight and be there first. I have to find a way to warn Luke.'

'Leave a message at the airport?'

'It's not reliable enough. I think I have 'to go there myself. There was a Viscount that left at nine, wasn't there? Where's that airline guide?'

'Right on the table.'

Billie picked it up. Flight 271 left Washington at exactly nine. Unlike Luke's flight, this one stopped only twice, landing at Huntsville four minutes before noon. Luke's flight did not land until two twenty-three. She could be waiting for him at the airport 'I can do it,' she said.

'Then you should.'

Billie hesitated, looking at Larry, torn by conflicting urges.

Bern read her mind. 'He'll be okay.'

'I know, but I don't want to leave him, today of all days.'

'I'll take care of him.'

'Would you keep him out of school?'

Yes, I think that'd be a good idea, at least for today.'

Larry said: 'I've finished my cornflakes.'

Bern said: 'Then you must be just about ready for some French toast' He slid a slice on to a plate. 'Want some maple syrup with that?'

Yeah.'

'Yes, what?'

'Yes, please.'

Bern poured syrup from a bottle.

Billie sat opposite her son and said: 'I want you to skip school today.'

'But I'll miss swimming!' he protested.

'Maybe Daddy will take you swimming.'

'But I'm not sick!'

'I know, honey, but you had kind of a tiring morning, and you need to rest.' Larry's protests reassured Billie. He seemed to be recovering fast All the same, she would not be comfortable letting him go to school, not until this whole business was over.

But she could leave him with his father. Bern was a trained agent and could protect his kid from just about anything. She made a decision. She would' go to Huntsville. 'Have a fun day with Daddy and maybe you'll go to school tomorrow, okay?'

'Okay.'

'Mommie has to go now.' She did not want to make a drama of saying goodbye, for that would only scare the child. I'll see you later,' she said casually.

As she went out, she heard Bern say: 'I bet you couldn't eat another slice of that French toast.'

'I could too!' Larry replied.

Billie closed the door.

*

PART 5

10.45 A. M.

The missile will take off vertically, then be tilted into a trajectory inclined forty degrees to the horizon. The first stage is guided, during powered flight, by aerodynamic tail surfaces and by movable carbon vanes in the engine exhaust jet.

Luke fell asleep as soon as he had fastened his seat belt, and he was unaware of the take-off from Newport News. He slept heavily while the plane was in the air, but woke up every time it bumped down at yet another airstrip on its stop-go flight west across Virginia and North Carolina. Each time his eyes opened he felt a rush of anxiety, and checked his watch to see how many hours and minutes were left until the launch. He would fidget in his seat while the little aircraft taxied across the apron. A few people would leave, one or two more would get on, and the plane would take off again. It was like riding the bus.

The plane refuelled at Winston-Salem, and the passengers got off for a few minutes. Luke called Redstone Arsenal from the terminal and got his secretary, Marigold dark, on the phone.

'Dr Lucas!' she said. 'Are you okay?'

I'm fine, but I only have a minute or two. Is the launch still scheduled for tonight?'

'Yes, ten-thirty.'

I'm on my way to Huntsville - my plane lands at two twenty-three. I'm trying to figure out why I went there on Monday.'

'You still don't have your memory back?'

'No. Now, you don't know why I made that trip.'

'Like I said, you didn't tell me.'

'What did I do there?'

'Well, now, let me see. I met you at the airport in an army car and brought you here to the base. You went into the Computation Lab, then drove yourself down to the south end.'

'What's there, at the south end?'

'The static test pads. I imagine you went into the Engineering Building - you sometimes work there -but I don't know for sure, because I wasn't with you.'

'And then?'

'You asked me to drive you to your home,' Luke heard a prim note enter her voice. 'I waited in the car while you stepped inside for a minute or two. Then I took you to the airport.'

'That's it?'

That's all I know.'

Luke grunted with frustration. He had felt sure Marigold would come up with some clue.

Desperately, he cast about for another line of questioning. 'How did I look?'

'Okay, but your mind was someplace else. Preoccupied, that's the word I'm searching for. I figured you were worried about something. Happens all the time with you scientists. I don't let it trouble me.'

'Wearing my usual clothes?'

'One of them nice tweed jackets.'

'Carrying anything?'

'Just your little suitcase. Oh, and a file.'

Luke stopped breathing for a moment. 'A file?' he said. He swallowed.

A stewardess interrupted him. 'Time to board the aircraft, please, Dr Lucas.'

He covered the mouthpiece with his hand and said: 'Just one minute.' Then he said to Marigold: 'Was it any special kind of file?'

'A standard army file folder, thin cardboard, buff-coloured, large enough to hold business letters.'

'Any idea what was in it?' .

'Just papers, it looked like.'

Luke tried to breathe normally. 'How many sheets of paper? One, ten, a hundred?'

'Maybe fifteen or twenty, I guess.'

'Did you happen to see what was on the sheets?'

'No, sir, you didn't take them out'

'And did I still have this file when you took me to the airport?'

There was a silence at the other end.

The stewardess returned. 'Dr Lucas, if you won't board the plane, we'll have to go without you.'

'I'm coming, I'm coming.' He began to repeat his question to Marigold. 'Did I still have the file-'

'I heard you,' she interrupted. 'I'm trying to remember.'

He bit his lip. Take your time.'

'Whether you had it at the house, I can't tell.'

'But at the airport?'

'You know, I don't believe you had it then. I'm picturing you walking away from me into the terminal, and I see you have your bag in one hand, and in the other ... nothing.'

'Are you sure?'

Yes, now I am. You must have left that file here somewhere, either at the base or at home.'

Luke's mind was racing. The file was the reason for his trip to Huntsville, he felt sure. It contained the secret he had found out, the one that Anthony was so desperate for him to forget. Maybe it was a Xerox copy of the original, and he had stashed it somewhere for safekeeping. That was why he had asked Marigold not to tell anyone of his visit it seemed ultra-cautious, but not doubt he had learned such habits in the war.

Now, if he could find the file, he could discover the secret The stewardess had abandoned him, and he saw her running across the tarmac. The plane's propellers were already turning.

'I think that file could be very important,' he told Marigold. 'Could you look around and see if it's there?'

'My lord, Dr Lucas, this is the army! Don't you know there must be a million of them buff-coloured file folders here? How would I know which is the one you were carrying?'

'Just check around, see if there's one someplace where it shouldn't be. As soon as I land at Huntsville, I'll go to the house and search there. Then, if I don't find it, I'll come to the base.' Luke hung up and ran for the plane.

.

11 A. M.

The flight plan is programmed in advance. During flight, signals telemetered to the computer activate the guidance system to keep it on course.

The MATS flight to Huntsville was full of generals. Redstone Arsenal did more than design space rockets. It was the headquarters of the Army Ordnance Missile Command. Anthony, who kept track of this kind of thing, knew that a whole range of weapons were being developed and tested at the base - from the baseball-bat-sized Redeye, for ground troops to use against enemy aircraft, up to the huge surface-to-surface Honest John. The base undoubtedly saw a lot of brass.

Anthony wore sunglasses to conceal the two black eyes Billie had given him. His lip had stopped bleeding, and the broken tooth showed only when he talked. Despite his injuries, he felt energized: Luke was within his grasp.

Should he simply take the first opportunity to kill him? It was temptingly simple. But he worried that he did not know exactly what Luke was up to, He had to make a decision. However, by the time he boarded the plane he had been awake for forty-eight hours straight, and he fell asleep. He dreamed he was twenty-one again, and there were new leaves on the tall trees in Harvard Yard, and a life full of glorious possibilities stretched before him like an open road. Next thing he knew, Pete was shaking him as a corporal opened the aircraft door, and he woke up inhaling' a warm Alabama breeze.

Huntsville had a civilian airport, but this was not it MATS flights came down on the airstrip within Redstone Arsenal. The terminal building was a small wooden hut, the tower an open steel gantry with a one-room flight-control post on top.

Anthony shook his head to clear it as he walked across the parched grass. He was carrying the small bag that held his gun, a false passport, and five thousand dollars in cash, the emergency kit without which he never caught a plane.

Adrenalin enlivened him. In the next few hours he would kill a man, for the first time since the war. His stomach tensed as he thought of it. Where would he do it? One option was to wait for Luke at Huntsville Airport, follow him as he left, and gun him down on the road somewhere. But that was high risk. Luke might well spot the tail and escape. He would never be an easy target. He could yet slip away if Anthony were not extremely careful.

It might be; best to find out where Luke was planning to go, then get there ahead and ambush him. 'I'm going to make some inquiries at the base,' he said to Pete. 'I want you to go to the airport and keep watch. If Luke arrives, or anything else happens, try to reach me here.'

At the edge of the airstrip, a young man in the uniform of a lieutenant waited with a card that read: 'Mr. Carroll, State Department' Anthony shook his hand. 'Colonel Hickam's compliments, sir,' the lieutenant said formally. 'As requested by the State Department, we have provided you with a car.' He pointed to an olive-drab Ford.

'That'll be fine,' Anthony said. He had called the base before catching his plane, brazenly pretending he was under orders from CIA Director Alan Dulles, and demanded army cooperation for a vital mission the details of which were classified. It had worked: this lieutenant seemed eager to please.

'Colonel Hickam would be glad if you would drop by headquarters at your convenience.' The lieutenant handed Anthony a map. The base was enormous, Anthony realized. It stretched several miles south, all the way to the Tennessee River. 'The headquarters building is marked on the map,' the soldier went on. 'And we have a message, asking you to call Mr. Carl Hobart in Washington.'

'Thank you, Lieutenant Where's Dr Claude Lucas's office?'

'That'll be the Computation Laboratory.' He took out a pencil and made a mark on the map. 'But all those guys are down to Cape Canaveral this week.'

'Does Dr Lucas have a secretary?'

'Yes - Mrs. Marigold Clark.'

She might know Luke's movements. 'Good.'

Lieutenant, this is my colleague Pete Maxell. He needs to get to the civilian airport to meet a flight'

'I'd be glad to, drive him there sir.' .

'I appreciate that. If he needs to reach me here at the base, what's the best way?'

The lieutenant looked at Pete. 'Sir, you could always leave a message at Colonel Hickam's office, and I would try to get it to Mr. Garroll'

'Good enough,' Anthony said decisively. 'Let's get going,'

He got into the Ford, checked the map, and started out It was a typical army base. Arrow-straight roads ran through rough woodland broken by neat rectangles of lawn close cropped like a conscript's haircut. The buildings were all flat-roofed structures of tan brick. It was well signposted, and he easily found the Computation Lab, a T-shaped building two storeys high. Anthony wondered why they needed so much space to make calculations, then realized they must have a powerful computer in there.

He parked outside and thought for a few moments. He had a simple question to ask: where in Huntsville did Luke plan to go? Marigold probably knew, but she would :be defensive of Luke and wary of a stranger, especially one with two black eyes. However, she had been left behind here when most-of the people, she worked with had gone to Cape Canaveral for the big event, so she was probably also feeling lonely and bored.

He went into the building. In an outer office were three small desks, each with a typewriter. Two were vacant The third was occupied by a Negro woman of about fifty wearing spectacles with diamante rims, and a flowered cotton dress printed with daisies. 'Good afternoon,' he said.

She looked up. He took off his sunglasses. Her eyes widened in surprise at his appearance. 'Hello! How can I help you?'

With mock sincerity, he said: 'Ma'am, I'm looking for a wife who won't beat me up.'

Marigold burst out laughing.

Anthony pulled up a chair and sat to one side of her desk. 'I'm from Colonel Hickam's office,' he said. 'I'm looking for Marigold Clark. Where is she?'

'That's me.'

'Oh, no. The Miz Clark I'm looking for is a grown woman. You're just a young girl.'

'Now, you stop your jive,' she said, but she smiled broadly.

'Dr Lucas is on his way here - I guess you knew that'

'He called me this morning.'

'What time do you expect him?'

'His plane lands at two twenty-three.'

That was useful. 'So he'll be here around three.'

'Not necessarily.'

'Ah. Why not?'

She gave him what he wanted. 'Dr Lucas said he's going home first, then he'll stop by here/

That was perfect Anthony could hardly believe his luck. Luke was going from the airport straight to his house. Anthony could go there and wait, then shoot Luke as soon as he walked in the door. There would be no witnesses. If he used the silencer, no one would even hear a shot; Anthony would leave the body where it fell and drive away. With Elspeth in Florida, the corpse might not be found for days.

Thank you,' he said to Marigold. He stood up. 'It was a pleasure to meet you.' He left the room before she could ask his name.

He returned to the car and drove to the headquarters building, a long three-storey monolith that looked like a prison. He found Colonel Hickam's office. The colonel was out, but a sergeant showed him to an empty room with a phone.

He called Q Building, but did not speak to his boss, Carl Hobart. Instead he asked for Carl's superior, George Cooperman. 'What's up, George?' he said.

'Did you shoot at someone last night?' said Cooperman, his smoker's voice sounding even more gravelly than usual.

With an effort, Anthony put on the swashbuckling persona that appealed to Cooperman. 'Aw, hell, who told you that?'

'Some colonel from the Pentagon called Tom Ealy in the Director's office, and Ealy told Carl Hobart, who had an orgasm.'

'There's no proof. I picked up all the slugs.'

'This colonel found a hole in the rucking wall about nine millimetres wide and he guessed what caused it. Did you hit anybody?'

'Unfortunately not'

You're in Huntsville now, right?'

'Yeah.'

'You're supposed to come back immediately,'

'Then it's a good thing I didn't talk to you.'

'Listen, Anthony, I always cut you as much slack as I can, because you get results. But I can't do any more for you on this one. You're on your own from here buddy.'

'That's how I like it'

'Good luck.'

Anthony hung up and sat staring at the phone. He did not have much more time. His Billy the Kid act was wearing thin. He could disobey orders for only so long. He needed to wrap this up fast...

He called Cape Canaveral and got, Elspeth on the phone. 'Have you talked to Luke?' he asked her;

'He called me at six-thirty this morning.' She sounded shaky.

'Where from?'

'He wouldn't say where he was, where he was going, or what he intended to do, because he; was afraid my phone might be tapped. But. he told me; you were responsible for his amnesia.'

'He's on his way to Huntsville. I'm at Redstone Arsenal now. I'm going to your house to wait for him there. Will I be able to get in?'

She answered with another question. 'Are you still trying to protect him?'

'Of course.' .

'Will he be okay?'

'All I can do is my best.'

There was a moment's pause, then she said: 'There's a key under the bougainvillea pot in the back yard.'

'Thanks.'

'Take care of Luke, won't you?'

'I said I would do my best!'

'Don't snap at me,' she said with some of her more usual spirit I'll take care of him.' He hung up.

He stood up to go, and the phone rang.

He wondered whether to answer. It might be Hobart But Hobart did not know he was hi Colonel Hickam's office. Only Pete knew that... he thought He picked up.

It was Pete. 'Dr Josephson's here!' he said.

'Shit' Anthony had felt sure she was out of the picture. 'She just got off a plane?'

'Yeah, it must have been a fester flight than the one Lucas is on. She's sitting in the terminal building, like she's waiting.'

'For him,' Anthony said decisively. 'Damn her. She's come to warn him that we're here. You have to get her out of there.'

'How?'

'I don't care -just get rid of her!'

.

12 NOON