Sullivan's sting

49

The tape clicked off, and Tony Harker switched it to fast rewind. Then he went into the cramped kitchenette and made himself a sandwich. The tape had rewound by the time he returned to the living room, and he settled down to listen again, reflecting that in the distant future his son might ask, "What did you do, Daddy, when your world was falling apart?" And he might reply, "I ate a bologna on rye with mustard."

He heard Rita Sullivan and David Rathbone, apparently on New Year's Day, discuss a party they had attended the previous night. He heard Ernie call Rita to come to the Palace and take care of Rathbone, who was "under the weather." He heard the subsequent conversation inside the town house during which Rathbone made it obvious that he was planning to leave the country in six months, and Rita practically promised to go along.

It was possible, of course, that she had been playing her assigned role, trying to lure Rathbone into revealing his destination. But that was hard to believe; a few days later Rita, seated in the chair now occupied by Harker, had assured him that Rathbone had spoken of leaving only in general terms. She had been vague about that, but definite in promising Tony to answer his marriage proposal in six months. That would be after Rathbone had skedaddled. And Rita with him?

There were other things she should have told him but hadn't: the description of Rathbone's intended hideaway, a place in the sun, not too far from the beach, with a big private pool. That matched Rathbone's ranch in Costa Rica. And she mentioned nothing of his business meeting on New Year's Day, probably at the Palace, that "went fine" but resulted in Rathbone drinking himself into insensibility.

All those lapses were worrisome enough, but it was the content and tone of her conversations with Rathbone, obviously in a bedroom, that shattered Tony Harker. He could not believe that she was such an accomplished actress that she could fake the passion in the things she said and, presumably, did.

The intimacy and fervor of the pillow talk between David and her was at once arousing and depressing. He listened to it, feeling like a sick voyeur but unable to turn off the machine, knowing that even if he did, the hurt would not end.

When, finally, the tape ran out, he still heard the moans of delight. And he sat alone in a shoddy motel room, trying to puzzle out reasons for her possible duplicity. It was easy to say Rathbone was handsome, wealthy, loving, and she had succumbed to his charms. But Tony had to believe there was more to it than that. Rita was a hardheaded cop who could spot a phony a mile away. Yet here she was apparently embracing pho-niness and willing to risk her future with an insubstantial man whose entire life was based on sham.

What were Harker's options in response to what he had heard? He could confront Sullivan with the tapes. Her defense, he reckoned, was that she was doing her assigned job. She had delivered information on the Fort Knox Fund, hadn't she? And on Rathbone passing the forged Treasury check. And on the activities of Irving Donald Gevalt.

She could claim that she had done what she was ordered to do. But how she accomplished her assignment was her business, not Harker's. And how could he answer that? He could not, but the worm still gnawed.

He might take the actual tapes to Lester Crockett rather than submitting an expurgated precis, and let the boss decide where the truth lay. But that, Harker decided, would be surrender of his responsibility. Sullivan was his agent, and if he was willing to profit from her work, he should be willing to accept the blame if she turned sour.

He was convinced that the entire case was progressing well and nearing its denouement. Pulling Rita out might well rob the investigation of vital intelligence. He needed her as much as he needed Clark, Fortescue, Suarez, and Ullman.

And there was always the possibility-slim though it might be-that she was acting a role with Rathbone. And that she would deliver David's head to Tony Harker as soon as she had the evidence.

He hoped with all his heart that might be true. But he was tied in knots, felt the familiar pressure, and began searching frantically for his inhaler.