The First Team

11

The first thing that came into Hewlitt’s mind after that was an all but forgotten incident of his boyhood. He had been complaining about a pain in one of his teeth; he was told that there was a cavity and it would have to be repaired. That would require an appointment with the dentist. After he had accepted all that, and was ready to prepare himself during the next few days for the ordeal that lay ahead, he had been told that the appointment was slightly less than a half hour away. He had had no chance for psychological adjustment before he had found himself seated in the chair. It was like that now.

“You see,” Percival said, “if Scott is as dangerous as we believe he might be, we don’t want him on the loose an hour longer than is necessary.”

“I can understand that,” Hewlitt replied. “You had me off balance for a moment, that’s all. I think you’d better brief me.”

“Obviously. Your part, actually, is quite simple, though not completely so. I understand that there is a bar you visit fairly frequently when you have been out for an evening.”

Hewlitt was impressed that this detail of his private life was known, but he made a successful effort not to let it show. “That’s right, it’s only a block from my place. I stop there for a draft beer now and then; there’s a piano player I like.”

“Good. What I’d like you to do is to go there tonight when you leave here, just as you might ordinarily. Have a beer or two in your usual manner, but try to stay at least forty minutes if you can without being obvious about it.”

“No problem,” Hewlitt said.

“I can’t give you any odds on this,” Percival continued, “but we consider it possible^that Captain Scott might drop in there. Have you ever seen him there before?”

“No, not to my knowledge. Of course I only really met him recently.”

“Understood. If your movements are as well known to the other side as they are to us, with certain exceptions, then they will know about this habit of yours. If Scott should turn up, you can take it as pretty fair indication that he was sent.”

“I’d certainly think so,” Hewlitt agreed.

“In case he does, of course you will talk to him. Now listen carefully: if he stays off the subject of this organization, don’t you bring it up in any way. Follow his lead. If he does show up, and does get onto that subject, then you understand what that means.” “Yes.” Hewlitt had not moved in his chair for some minutes, he was almost afraid to do so now.

“Assuming that both of these things take place, then you are to tell Scott that you don’t know if you can be of any help to him or not, but you will ask around discreetly. I don’t want you to commit yourself; no good agent ever does that except in an extreme emergency.”

“I understand.”

“Now, if possible we want Scott, again assuming that he is our man, to go to the enemy’s house to report. He wouldn’t dare to use the telephone. So you are to tell him, in confidence, that you have heard a wild rumor that because of the amount of enemy traffic that is passing through the Baltimore Bay Tunnel, an effort is going to be made very soon to blow it up. Treat this very carefully, act like you don’t believe it yourself.” For a moment Percival relented and a half quirk touched the corners of his mouth. “Don’t, incidentally,” he added, “because there’s no truth to it at all.”

He became totally serious once more. “The hardest part of your assignment will be to make him believe that you just picked this up, that you believe it to be a wild rumor, but that it just might be true. In our right minds we would never do anything like that, but they don’t credit us with too much sense in that way. Whatever you do, don’t overdo it — don’t repeat the story, for instance, to be sure that he got it. Then break it up and part as warm friends. Put yourself in that frame of mind — if you don’t, there’s a good chance that he might read you out and that would blow the whole thing. Keep it in the forefront of your consciousness that he is your close and trusted friend, your comrade in arms. Believe it, and you’ll convince him.”

Hewlitt drew in a deep breath. “And then what?” he asked.

“Go home in your usual way. Shortly thereafter your phone will ring and someone will ask for Roger Samuels, who has a telephone number closely similar to yours, by the way. If Scott did not show, simply tell the caller that he has the wrong number and hang up immediately. If Scott did show, but if the conversation did not go as I have outlined here, stay on the line. Your caller will apologize for disturbing you. Say, ‘That’s quite all right,’ and then hang up.” “Hang up immediately if Scott did not show,” Hewlitt repeated. “If he did, but if the conversation remained neutral, wait for an apology and then say, ‘That’s quite all right.’ ”

“Correct; with your memory you won’t have any trouble. Now if Scott did show, and if you planted the story as directed and feel confident that he bought it, in answer to the apology you are to say, ‘That’s quite all right. You didn’t disturb me.’ In that event, wait ten minutes and then go out the back door of your building, turn right, and walk toward the corner. There’s an all-night store there in case anyone notices you going that way. There will be a cab parked near to the corner. Get in and tell the driver to take you to the Hot Shoppe just across the bridge on the Virginia side. If he does, eat something and then go home. If he doesn’t, then go where he takes you.”

Hewlitt had all but forgotten that Frank was still present; he turned and looked up, but received a negative shake of the head in reply. “You and me shouldn’t be seen together too much except for the regular times,” Frank said.

Hewlitt turned back to Percival. “Then what?” he asked.

Percival stood up. “You’ll be told. Just follow instructions and don’t attempt to improvise. That’s all.”

From downstairs there came a small stir of noise indicating that the show was either over or in an intermission period. Once more Hewlitt shook hands with Percival and then followed Frank out the door. He felt a certain confidence that he could carry off the role that had been assigned to him, because he instinctively liked Phil Scott anyway.

Frank dropped him off in front of the bar and then wished him good night. As the cab retreated down the street he stood on the pavement for a moment as though he was deciding whether or not to go inside, then, holding himself at a casual emotional level as far as he was able, he opened the door and stepped through.

His first thought was to look around carefully to see if Scott was already there, but before he had finished closing the door behind him he realized the mistake that would be. Instead he headed toward the rear of the narrow room so that if he was to have a visitor, the resulting conversation could be held in relative privacy. He looked straight ahead and avoided even glancing at the bar patrons. He rubbed his chin as he walked, and then massaged the muscles in his throat. It was the gesture of a man who has just engaged in an activity he would rather not publicize, a self-conscious covering up of inner embarrassment.

He had almost reached the piano bar when he felt his arm touched; he turned and there was Scott, dressed in casual sports attire which suited him well. “Buy you a drink, Hew?” he offered.

For a moment Hewlitt looked slightly startled. It was perfectly genuine; he had not expected a possible contact to be made so soon. Then he shook hands. “Let’s go in back if you don’t mind,” he suggested. “I feel like sitting down quietly.”

The small rear lounge was largely empty. A corner table invited them with a frosted glass candle holder glowing softly in the semidarkness. As Hewlitt sat down he admired the easy way that Scott put down his own drink and drew up a chair. “On the town, Hew?” the captain asked.

Hewlitt shook his head. “I dropped in at a friend’s house for a little while, that’s all.”

Scott signaled to the cocktail waitress. “I was supposed to play bridge tonight, but the fourth didn’t show up. Do you play, Hew?” The question remained unanswered while the girl came over and took the order for a drink for Hewlitt and a fresh one for Scott. When she had retreated in a swirl of miniskirt and black pantihose, Hewlitt picked up the conversation. “Sometimes, Phil; it depends. Not much lately.”

For a full half hour the conversation remained sterile: the casual comments of two men concerned with matters of much more moment than the things they had chosen to talk about. Hewlitt did not have to remember the role assigned to him; the more he sat in Scott’s company the more he found himself establishing empathy with the man. Although his presence there was almost a total betrayal, he forced that thought out of his mind and considered only that they had met casually. Then he began to hope, almost to pray, that their meeting had been exactly as Scott had indicated that it was, a completely accidental encounter. He liked Scott, he wanted him to be cleared of suspicion. In the underground he could be damn valuable and he had the guts to do things — he had already proven that.

“Hew,” Scott said, “I was wondering: do you expect this thing to last forever?”

Hewlitt glanced around automatically to be sure that they were not being overheard. “Nothing ever does,” he answered cautiously. “But I have a feeling that we have a lot worse ahead of us before it all ends, one way or another.”

Scott nodded over his drink. “You’re right, you’ve got to be. But, Hew, it doesn’t make sense.” He stopped and visibly put down the anger which was trying to edge his voice. “Look, we’ve got a helluva big and powerful country here, two hundred million of us live in it, and I don’t care what the box score says, nobody can take over an establishment like that and make it stick.”

‘They had colonialism in Southeast Asia for two hundred years,” Hewlitt said. “The people there had nothing to start with, but eventually the European powers had to get out. The Dutch out of Java, the French out of Indo-China, the British out of Burma.”

“True, but in some of those places the commies came in — they backed Ho in Indo-China, for example. Nobody that I know of is going to back us; we got ourselves into this corner and we’re going to have to get ourselves out.”

Hewlitt toyed with his glass. “You’re in the Air Force,” he said. “You tell me how.”

“There’s too many of us; some of the people who believed what Fitzhugh told them know better now; even Wattles has lost his black following.”

“The Air Force is great — the best,” Hewlitt told him, “but what are you going to fly — Ramrods?”

Scott leaned closer and looked down at his glass for a moment. “Hew, look at it this way: there are a lot of them here, but they’re still outnumbered something like ten thousand to one or better. That’s just a guess, of course. With all their planes that our brilliant Mr. McNamara thought were obsolete, and their missiles, and their navy, and their garrison troops, they still don’t have enough to keep us in tow, not if we choose to do something about it.”

Hewlitt carefully made no answer; he did not want to commit himself that soon.

“At the moment the Air Force is down, but it isn’t out. We still have some resources left.”

Hewlitt looked up at that. “Can you make them count?”

This time Scott remained silent for several seconds, then he said, “Damn right.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“Consider what happened, Hew,” Scott continued. “When they pointed the loaded gun at us, and we were stuck with the Ramrod as our principal air superiority system, the President made that speech about saving human life and plain gave in. Well, the armed forces aren’t in being to say that a war that’s forced on us is too risky and then bow out. But the President is the commander in chief — or he was. He put out the order to lay down our weapons and it was a court-martial offense not to do so — we are the instrument of national policy. The whole damn Sixth Fleet had to put into port in the Med without firing a shot, because the order was final and absolute. Even the nuc subs had to turn themselves in.”

“There wasn’t much choice about that part,” Hewlitt said. “The terms weren’t published, but they knew exactly how many we had and they laid down the law: if every one of them wasn’t in port and surrendered within fifteen days, then the ICBM’s would be let loose.”

Scott dropped his voice to a confidential level even lower than it had been before. “I heard that two of them were scuttled by their skippers just the same.”

“Four,” Hewlitt corrected. “They made port as ordered, then opened the sea cocks or whatever they do and scuttled right at the docks. As soon as the salt water hit them they were so much expensive junk.”

“Hurrah for the Navy,” Scott said. “Let’s have one more for them.”

“For the Navy, yes,” Hewlitt agreed.

He caught the girl’s eye and indicated another round. Neither man said anything until the drinks had been served, then when the pianist began to play “Ebb Tide” Scott used the sound of the music to cover his voice.

“Hew, I think that there’s something going already. In a lot of different places. I told you that we’re not through yet, and you can bank on that. The Navy will have a few tricks up its sleeve, too. I’m darned sorry that Haymarket was killed, he was one guy they never buffaloed. He told Fitzhugh to cut his throat — remember?”

“Of course.”

“Well, there are other guys as good or pretty near as good. I wouldn’t tell you this if I didn’t trust you, but I’m working on a few contacts now.”

“If I can help you, let me know,” Hewlitt said. He did not have enough time to consider that before he had the words out, but he decided that it was about the only thing he could have said. It had committed him, but not too deeply, and it had been a natural reaction.

“Maybe you can,” Scott said slowly. “It could be. If you hear of anything…” He shook his head. “I’d better not,” he concluded.

“As you like,” Hewlitt replied. His orders had been to follow Scott’s lead and not to improvise.

“Hell,” Scott said, “I don’t know why I’m playing chintzy with you. In your job you had to have every clearance that there is.”

Hewlitt said nothing.

“You’re in a pretty sensitive spot right now. You know what’s going on as much as anyone. Well, there’s an opposition shaping up; Bob Landers was part of it until he got caught in a million-to-one fluke — he left a note in a drop and one of their surveillance people shooting for something else entirely just happened to catch a frame of him doing it. It wouldn’t happen again in ten thousand years.”

“God, what a break!” Hewlitt said, barely voicing the words.

“I worked for him, I think you know that.” Scott looked around for a moment as a couple got up to leave; he waited until they were out of the lounge. “If you find out who replaces him, don’t tell me — but pass the word that I’d like to know, will you?”

Hewlitt nodded. ‘*Of course, if you want me to. But considering that I work directly for Zalinsky, I’ll be poison — you know that.”

“Maybe yes, maybe no.”

It was the time, Hewlitt knew, to make his move. Exactly as he had been told. “Thanks for the confidence, Phil. I don’t know what I can do, but I’ll try. I hear some things occasionally.” He hunched himself over the table so that his voice would have minimum range. The piano player started a Marc Orberg tune, but switched after a few bars and picked up the verse of “Black Moonlight” instead. “Do you want to know a wild one? There’s a lot of enemy traffic on U.S. i, mostly from Andrews going north. They’ve all but closed the Baltimore Bay Tunnel to civilian traffic.”

“I’ve heard that.”

“Well, they may not be using it much longer.”

Scott lifted his eyebrows. “So?”

“That’s what I heard. I don’t see how anyone could do it, not and get away with it, but somebody thought of it, anyway.”

Scott shook his head. “It wouldn’t be a smart thing to do; we need the tunnel more than they do, but I still wish them luck. Cheers.”

The phone rang in Hewlitt’s apartment less than five minutes after he had closed the door behind him. He picked it up and was surprised to hear an inviting female voice on the line. “Hello, Rog.” “I think you have the wrong number,” Hewlitt responded. It was definitely not Barbara, and he was almost certain it was not Mary either.

“Isn’t this Mr. Samuels?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh, excuse me. I know it’s late.”

“That’s quite all right. You didn’t disturb me.”

Hewlitt did not allow himself to think what the words might mean. Instead he carefully looked at his watch and waited until precisely ten minutes had passed, then he went out quietly through the rear exit, made his way to the street, and started walking toward the corner. He held himself carefully, well aware that he was literally taking the first steps in a new direction for his life. Steps which could conceivably also bring it to a sudden end. He was not afraid; if that was the way that things were slated to go, so be it. He was out of the groove, and he felt it almost physically with every part of his being.

He heard the sound of a car behind him, but he did not turn to look. He was aware that it was slowing down, but his intelligence quickly told him that so far he had said and done nothing since leaving Davy Jones’ house that could be challenged. He had a valid excuse for being where he was in the event he was to be questioned.

The car went past, slowed up, and stopped three hundred feet ahead, close to the curb. It was a battered black taxi, an anonymous member of the Washington fleet. Hewlitt did not hurry; when he was opposite the cab he hesitated for a moment as though he were making up his mind. Then he walked over, bent down, and spoke to the driver. “Are you free?”

“Where do you want to go?”

He could not see the man in the shadows; he was a Caucasian of fairly small stature, but that was all that was visible. “The Hot Shoppe on the Virginia side.”

“O.K., hop in.”

As the taxi pulled away, Hewlitt realized that he had no real idea where he was going or what would be expected of him. He had two things in his mind: his recent conversation with Scott and the fact that the cab had appeared at the appointed place exactly on time.

The cab passed what would have been a logical turning point for the Fourteenth Street Bridge and headed instead toward a somewhat rundown residential area. Hewlitt sat back and relaxed; if he were questioned now he would claim that he had been deep in his own thoughts and had not even noticed where the cab was going.

He rode on for another twelve minutes, then the driver interrupted his thoughts. “I’m gonna drop you beside a house, understand? Don’t go in, go down the side to the rear yard. You’ll meet someone there.”

Before Hewlitt could answer he felt the pull of the brakes as the car swung close to the curb. He got out and remembered to hand the driver a bill from his wallet. Without comment he turned his back, glanced at the unpromising structure before him, and then went as he had been directed. Uncertainty returned to him for a moment when he found that the backyard was almost totally shrouded in darkness. At first he could not see whether anyone was there to meet him or not. Then he was aware of a man before him whose face he could not see. He heard the words, “Come with me, please,” and followed as directed. Behind his guide he went through a gate in a board fence, crossed another yard, and went into the back door of what appeared to be a totally dark house.

For the second time that evening he followed someone up a set of back stairs, then down a side corridor to the front room. Not a light showed anywhere, but enough illumination came in through the large front-facing window to allow him to pick out three more figures who were gathered silently in the darkness. One of them stepped forward and allowed what light there was to outline his features for a moment; Hewlitt recognized Percival.

“We received your message,” he said softly. “Are you absolutely sure of your information?”

“Totally,” Hewlitt answered.

“Then come over here.”

Set back from the window there was a stubby telescope on a tripod; the instrument itself appeared to have an unusually large aperture for its short length. “Take a look,” Percival invited.

When Hewlitt bent over slightly to peer into the eyepiece he was startled to find that he was apparently viewing his objective in close to broad daylight. “If you don’t know it, it’s a sniperscope,” he heard Percival saying. “It has a light amplifying system.”

“I’ve heard about them,” Hewlitt said. “They really work.”

“The Viet Cong found that out. Now, do you see the steps of the house in the lower left of the image?”

“Yes.”

“That’s the entrance to the enemy’s safe house that I told you about. We’ve been watching their people for some time and they invariably come from the direction that you’re watching. Can you see clearly?”

“Quite.”

“Then stay right where you are. Don’t touch anything else in the room. Keep your eye glued to that telescope. If you see someone coming, observe him closely. If you can make a positive identification of Scott, tell me. Don’t hesitate, but be sure. Got that?”

“Yes.”

“One more thing. If you identify Scott absolutely, and if he turns into that house, we will take action. Never mind the equipment; that will be taken care of. Your job will be to go out as you came in as quickly as you can and still be careful. Someone will be with you, follow his instructions. That’s all.”

Hewlitt did not answer; he felt no need. He fixed his eye to the scope as he had been directed.

At the end of the first half hour he began to feel cramped. He turned his neck the other way and used his left eye to maintain his vigil. During his momentary shift of position he glanced around the room and saw that the other figures were clearer now. One of them, almost motionless like himself, held the butt end of a rifle which was resting on a tripod.

For a moment he felt a strong revulsion; he did not want to give the word that would cause a man to be killed. A man with whom he had shared drinks a short time ago. Then he fixed his mind on the unforgettable picture of Bob Landers’ body lying on the South Lawn, and remembered something Scott had told him in the bar.

This wasn’t child’s play and he knew he had to face up to that fact.

“Target.”

The word came from the man with the rifle who was also looking through a telescopic finder. Hewlitt looked and saw the figure coming into his field of view: first his feet, then his trouser legs, his torso, and finally the face of Captain Philip Scott. He looked very carefully for three additional seconds, but there was no mistake; he was wearing the same clothes he had had on in the bar. “It’s Scott,” he said, just loudly enough to be heard.

“You are certain?” This from Percival.

“Certain.”

He did not want to look, but he could not escape from the eyepiece. He saw Phil Scott walk the few remaining paces to the front of the building, watched as he turned, and followed him as he started to mount the steps. Then he heard an angry, muffled spit bite the air in the room.

He saw Phil Scott appear to hesitate, raise his arm as though to shield his eyes from the absent sun, and then falter. He slumped downward, tumbling backward from where he had stood, until his body lay sprawled flat where he had paused moments before.

“Let’s go,” Percival said.

Shaken, Hewlitt went out the door, hurried along the corridor, and ran down the steps. The others were directly behind him. Once he was outside in the air his mood abruptly changed, he was the hunted one now and his mind was totally set on escape. When he reached the backyard of the opposite house he heard the single word, “Wait.”

Although his mind urged him to flee, he did as he was told. Others came behind him, carrying things he could not see even though his night vision was now effective. Then he made out the outlines of a car that was parked there; he noticed that when the doors were opened no lights went on automatically. “In the front,” he was directed.

He was barely seated when the vehicle started. It moved down the narrow space between two adjacent houses and entered the all but deserted street. No other traffic was visible for some distance either way. Hewlitt found that he was wedged between the driver and Percival.

They were off the streets again within five minutes; the driver turned into a dark, unguarded parking garage which was normally used only during the daylight hours and the very early evening. Behind the first spiral ramp other vehicles were waiting, including the cab that Hewlitt had ridden in earlier.

The three other men, all of them carrying equipment, left the car without a wasted motion and moments later were on their way separately, driving out by different exits. Percival lingered for just a moment to speak to Hewlitt. “Are you all right?” he asked.

“Yes, I’ll make out all right. My first experience, of course.”

“I know — and it isn’t easy. But he was guilty.”

Hewlitt nodded. “I know that. In the bar tonight, he made a bad slip.”

“Tell me.”

They were already alone except for the waiting driver who was not close enough to hear. Percival was obviously anxious to go, but he wanted the question answered first.

“He told me how Bob Landers was discovered. He said that he was accidentally photographed leaving a note in a drop. True or false, he couldn’t possibly know that, unless…”

“Of course not. Good work. Go home.”

“Yes, sir.”

He went quickly to the waiting cab and was relieved when he felt the vehicle moving under him. Twenty minutes later he let himself in his back door, undressed, and prepared for bed. But he had no thought of sleep; the image of what he had seen, the silent unreality of it all, keep repeating itself, over and over, in his mind. He could not banish it or forget that he had given the signal that had destroyed a man’s life.

It was hell, because he had been an intelligent man, a capable one, with fifty more years of life ahead of him.

He turned the lights as low as he could, then mixed himself a stiff drink. He sat down on the edge of his bed, glass in hand, and waited for the alcohol to release the bonds that were tied so tightly around his brain.