The First Team

26

Senator Solomon Fitzhugh sat in the quiet confines of Admiral Barney Haymarket’s office and looked across the desk at the man he had once regarded as an adversary in what seemed to be the dim past. The admiral himself gave no evidence of even remembering those days; instead he relaxed to the point where he took off his reading glasses and rubbed his eyes with his fists as though to clear away some of the fatigue that had settled into them during the past several weeks.

When he had finished, he turned his attention to his guest. “Senator, I’m sure that you’ve been keeping up with the dispatches that I’ve had bucked on to you, so you know that, thanks to the grace of God, we’ve at last got a victory on our hands.”

“More or less yes,” Fitzhugh said.

“I invited you in,” the admiral continued, “because I wanted to fill you in a little more and also to advise you that you may have a further and very important role to play.”

Fitzhugh looked at him. “I have been regarding myself more or less as a discard at this point. I publicly reversed myself on a position that I have been maintaining steadfastly for years. I doubt if my constituents…”

The admiral raised a hand to stop him. “I don’t have a poll available to prove it,” he said, “but I would guess that your popularity, on a national basis, is at an all-time high. And that’s damn good, because we’re going to make use of it.”

“Another speech?”

Haymarket shook his head. “Considerably more important than that.”

He got up and poured out two more cups of coffee, setting one in front of the senatpr almost automatically. “Let me lay it out for you so that you will understand exactly where we stand. We are entering into a new phase of things which is a lot different than international diplomacy is supposed to be — it is strictly a face-saving period. If — and I say that very seriously — we can pull the chestnuts out in such a way that not only no one gets burned, but also certain people are made to look good in the process, we may be able to trade off a little prestige for some very big stakes.”

“I’m not sure, Admiral Haymarket, that we have very much prestige to barter with right now.”

“That’s right, senator, but we can manufacture a little, and that’s what I’m trying to do. You know the Actor; in fact I understand that you were the audience for one of his most brilliant performances.”

“You could put it that way,” Fitzhugh admitted.

“All right; now here is how it stands, senator. By the way, what do your friends call you?”

Fitzhugh was edgy about that. “Solomon, sometimes.”

“I see. Anyhow, through private channels which were set up for the purpose, and with the approval of the President, I’ve been in touch with the premier. Not in my own identity, but as the commander of Thomas Jefferson. Some horse trading has been done. His government is not stable at the moment and usually at such times over there heads roll. To protect himself, he has had to make some moves. He has agreed through a series of apparently unimportant steps to start pulling his people out and in turn I have promised to call the Magsaysay home.”

Solomon Fitzhugh considered that and then shook his head. “I don’t know, admiral,” he said, “once the Magsaysay is no longer a threat to them, then won’t we be completely at their mercy once more?”

To Fitzhugh’s surprise, the admiral seemed to be delighted. “Senator, I agree with you totally, and I’m particularly pleased to hear you express that opinion. If you’ll pardon my saying so, I believe that you’re beginning to see the advantages of keeping our powder dry. Here’s the rest of it: I agreed to pull in the Magsaysay with appropriate fanfare, but with a very secret proviso. Before she leaves her present station, another of our FBM’s must be allowed to replace her. We had three in Holy Loch when this all started, and one of them has already quietly slipped away. The British know; they had to since Holy Loch is in Scotland and the ships were technically impounded there. We are letting them have the propaganda victory, but our basic strategic position is essentially unchanged.”

“He simply let you do that?”

“Yes, to save his own neck and his government. You see, it can remain a secret permanently because the new ship on station isn’t going to fire — we both knew that. He’s far too smart to bring that down on his head, and there wouldn’t be any winners in a nuclear showdown.”

Fitzhugh fingered his coffee cup while he thought. “Why are you telling me all this?” he asked. “When I asked you about the President, you told me very pointedly that I had no need to know.”

The admiral leaned back, coffee in hand. “I was just coming to that. In the plainest language, with Rostovitch dead and his own economy almost on the brink, the premier’s got to get out of a serious overcommitment here before the walls tumble down behind him. Nelson won at Trafalgar, but he got himself killed in the process. The Actor prefers to be around for a while to enjoy his position, his girl friends, and the other amenities of life.”

“So?”

“Very simple,” Haymarket said. “He has suggested that since the occupation has achieved its purpose, he is now ready to talk with his old friend, the esteemed peacemaker, Senator Solomon Fitzhugh.”

The admiral expected a reaction to that and he got it. “Dammit, it wasn’t too long ago that I was very rudely told that the premier wished to hear nothing more from me. I was given to understand that if I did not comply, my toys would be taken away from me. In those words!”

“I know — but that was before we had a nuclear submarine aimed right up his backside. Magsaysay and her overwhelming destructive potential made it a new ball game.”

“Does the President know?”

“Yes, and he has approved. Understand clearly that the deal has already been made; your part will be to show up overseas, accept the protocol, talk about your long-standing devotion to the cause of nonmilitarism, and help the Actor to put on his show. In due time the two of you will issue a joint communique. When that’s all over, he will start pulling back his forces and you, naturally, will emerge a national hero.”

Solomon Fitzhugh shook his head. “I’ll go if it will help the cause of peace. But the hero part will come when you and your associates come out of hiding. Everyone knows about the First Team now.”

The admiral finished his coffee very casually. “No, senator. I’m going to come back to life and really retire this time, but otherwise all of the personnel of this operation are going to remain unheralded and unsung. We always hope for a better world, but we don’t have any guarantees — not yet. So we are going quietly to break up except for a few maintenance personnel and go on about our separate businesses, but our organization will still be there if it’s ever needed again. The same goes for all of our backup people, and you have no idea how many there are.”

The senator was not fully satisfied. “Consider history…” he began.

The admiral firmly shook his head. “You take the bows, senator; you’ve earned them. Publicity isn’t our business, in fact in our kind of operation it could be fatal to us. You go and make the Actor look good, then you can come home and run for President.”

“I don’t want to be President,” Fitzhugh said.

Two hours out of port the U.S.S. Ramon Magsaysay rendezvoused on the surface with a supply vessel which passed over several packages of soft goods. The men of the submarine received them gladly and with their aid prepared themselves more suitably for an appearance at a United States naval facility. For a short while the captain disappeared from the bridge; when he returned he was in proper uniform and, what was more, he had been well fitted and his decorations were correctly displayed. Underneath him his ship rolled slightly in the water, a welcome change from the monotonous steadiness while submerged. As he walked back and forth on the small area available, he drew in deep lungfuls of air and glanced up every few seconds at the sky. When the lookout announced landfall he pulled down the edges of his coat and began to check that his ship was fully prepared to enter port in a smart and proper manner. He passed some orders and verified a number of things to the point where Chief Summers remarked that he had never seen the old man in such a testy mood.

It did not last for long. The New England coastline grew nearer and then the familiar outlines of the New London-Groton area. The Magsaysay cut cleanly through the water, her speed exactly right to ride the tide in. The navigator passed up a message that she should make her berth within two minutes of her ETA.

“Improve that,” the captain replied.

At the proper time smartly uniformed members of her crew came on deck and formed an impressive line of seagoing fighting men. The captain looked them over from the bridge with an eagle’s eye, but he could find no fault. He nodded to the Officer of the Deck and once more adjusted the edges of his coat.

Those who were waiting on the pier, from the three-star admiral on down, watched with a mixture of pride and well-founded emotion as the narrow black submarine came slowly in under her own power, her crewmen lining her rail in the finest tradition of the Navy. From her first sighting the television cameras had been on her, now as she drew closer they trained on her deck and then panned up to her bridge where only heads and shoulders were visible.

It took longer than many present had expected for her to berth, for she came in well away from the pierside to avoid fouling her screw and was properly snubbed in with the minute slowness that the very careful operation demanded. Then at last the short brow was put into position that led from the dock over to her deck and Magsaysay was officially in port.

Following the orders that he had been given, Commander Ishiro Nakamura, the son of a central California strawberry grower, came down from the bridge. Under the direction of Chief Summers a small formal party took its place on the quarterdeck on each side of the brow and a pipe sounded. “Magsaysay, leaving,” came from the ship’s speaker system.

The captain crossed the brow as the television cameras recorded his every movement and then tightened in on his handsome dark features as he saluted the vice-admiral who stood waiting for him.

The admiral held out his hand. “Welcome back, commander,” he said. “How was your cruise?”

Commander Nakamura shook hands with proper dignity.

“Routine, sir,” he reported.

In response to the summons he had received Hewlitt crossed the hotel lobby and took an elevator to the fourteenth floor. As he walked down the corridor he was aware of the fact that one area had been sealed off — not obviously, but any casual visitors would have been stopped and asked their business. A few months earlier he might not have noticed this; now his sensitivity to such matters had been considerably sharpened. He was not surprised, therefore, when he had to produce an identity card before he was able to stop in front of one door and knock.

Feodor Zalinsky himself opened it. Hewlitt had not seen him since they had had their meeting in the hospital and his appearance was a surprise. He was a good ten pounds lighter, possibly even a little more. He had on a new suit which had some pretensions of fitting him. His face too, had changed. It was essentially the same, but there was a different cast to the features. As a first guess Hewlitt decided that he looked less harried.

“Come in, come in,” Zalinsky said and there was a change in his voice too, the built-in challenge which had characterized it was at least modified. Hewlitt entered, glanced at the view out of the window, and then sat down.

“I have discovered that you make very good beer,” Zalinsky said, “and I like beer. Will you have one with me?”

As he accepted, Hewlitt noted the fact that Zalinsky was speaking his own language; apparently the enforced English practice had been discarded.

At the small wet bar with which the apartment was equipped Zalinsky poured out the two drinks in pilsner glasses and then set one of them in front of his guest. Then he dumped himself into a chair and tasted his brew. “From time to time many different peoples have tried to conquer China,” he observed, “but it was too big and cumbersome; they could not digest it.”

Hewlitt nodded.

“This country, it is hopeless. I do not know how you run it yourselves.”

“Sometimes we can’t,” Hewlitt conceded. “We make a mess of things every now and then.”

“I could give you some very good suggestions,” Zalinsky said and then took a long drink from his glass that left foam on his lips. “But I do not have the time for all that; I am going home.”

Hewlitt shifted his position slightly, and waited.

“You may have in your mind many reasons for this: the submarine, the Thomas Jefferson business, the death of Gregor Rostovitch. I do not deny these, but the whole truth is not there either. We could have answered the submarine if Gregor had not gotten so far ahead of himself with the hostage business; there are too many other people in the world who would have recoiled from that, and we would have been left outside the church. We could have pretended to negotiate for a period of weeks and each day that passed…” He shrugged his shoulders and left the remark unfinished. “Anyhow, that is all over, you still have your high diver and there is perhaps less work for him to do now.”

“I hope so,” Hewlitt said.

“I will tell you this,” Zalinsky continued, “long before the submarine left San Francisco I advised my government that the occupation of the United States was a great mistake and that we should withdraw as soon as we could. We did not have the multitudes of skilled people that it would have taken and not very many of us can speak English; it is not a natural language for us. So when the submarine appeared on the scene, I urged that we use this fine excuse to get out of an impossible situation.”

Hewlitt drank his beer.

“So anyhow, it is finished. A little sooner than it would otherwise, perhaps, but we would not have been here too long no matter what happened; it simply wasn’t practical. We cannot occupy your country indefinitely, and you could not occupy us, for many of the same reasons.”

Once more Hewlitt nodded.

“So when Gregor, as you so picturesquely say, bought the farm, I forgot my pain long enough to call the premier and tell him for God’s sake not to lose the chance to save his own neck. This is not to be repeated, yes?”

“If you say not, no.”

“You will keep your word on that, I am aware, although it is not all that important; others will figure it out.”

“I suspect that they already have.”

Zalinsky shrugged his shoulders and finished his beer. “I regret that I did not meet the man who defeated Gregor Rostovitch; he must be a giant.”

Hewlitt shook his head this time. “Not really, although he is very powerful, there is no denying that. Most of all, he was angry and with a just cause — that helped.”

“You have him where he is safe?”

“He’s fine, thank you.”

“It is amazing that you rescued him so easily; you must have had some help.”

Hewlitt looked him in the eye. “I believe we did,” he said.

“Now, anyhow, I am going home. I will be glad to get back. After a little rest and a chance to see my family, I will probably be given another factory to run. There are times when I am tired of factories.”

That gave Hewlitt an opening he had been waiting for. “Mr. Zalinsky, I don’t think that you should go home. We talked once about suspicion — this time I am suspicious, they will want someone to blame besides Colonel Rostovitch and you will be the obvious choice. You have given me advice, I now have some for you: ask for political asylum and stay here. It will be granted, I have already asked. Your family will like it here. We are a funny people, but as soon as you ask for asylum they will accept you and you know now that this is a nice place to live. You speak English and you won’t have to run a factory — you can teach political science.”

Zalinsky smiled grimly for a moment. “It is a temptation, but the premier wants me to come back so I will, and if there is punishment for me, I will accept it. But I do not think so; you see the political climate in my country changes as the seasons do; it is spring at the moment and sins are being forgiven. I like it here, but it is not my own country — you understand that.”

“Yes, of course. But if you arrive and find that there is a blizzard, come back.”

Zalinsky changed the subject. “You were a good helper even if you were a bad spy. But that is forgivable; you had no experience and no training — dangerous for an amateur.”

“I tried hard,” Hewlitt said.

“Too hard, I could see that. But I did not tell Gregor because I do not like messy scenes myself and he did not appreciate any help. I missed only one entertainment — the night you were driven into bed with the Barbara girl.”

“It was not too difficult to accomplish.”

“This I can believe, but I would liked to have seen it. One complaint I had with this job was lack of amusement. Would you like some more beer?”

“No thank you, Mr. Zalinsky.”

“Then I give you a present as I leave — I will state that I was completely fooled and never suspected what you were doing. They will believe it and it will be all right.” He got to his feet. “You do speak my language very well.”

Hewlitt shook hands with him for the first time. “I’ll be down to see you off,” he promised.

Andrews Air Force Base was shrouded by a thick low overcast which hung in the air like a pall over the whole area and gave to everything a monotonous gray appearance. The wintry gloom penetrated all of the installations. It was the kind of a day when people had found it difficult to get out of bed and looked forward with more than average anticipation to being free to go home again and enjoy whatever creature comforts awaited them there.

Hewlitt tried hard to keep the mood from affecting him. An episode was ending, but to him it had seemed more like an era. He had gone into it as a White House functionary, accepted for his particular skill and well established in the minor role he had been assigned. Because his work had entailed a few minor and impersonal contacts with the President, he had enjoyed a very limited amount of prestige which had been ladled out according to the strict and stifling protocol which had regulated the government structure. He had worked in the White House, but he had still been classified far down the totem pole as one of those who did not matter.

He mattered now. In the morning papers one of the most important national columnists had given him a major write-up and had printed some of the facts relative to his service with the Thomas Jefferson project during the tenure of Feodor Zalinsky. It was not the first such publicity that he had received. Furthermore, the writer, who was noted for doing such things, had concluded with the firm recommendation that here was a man who was needed in a far more imgprtant level of government. He had already had a number of phone calls, one from the majority leader in the Senate, who had seriously proposed that he consent to fill out an unexpired term in that august body that had fallen vacant. The appointment, he had been firmly assured, was his if he wanted it; he was suddenly a popular hero.

He had no particular desire to become Senator Hewlitt, but he had agreed to think it over. One thing recommended it: he had a lot of ideas now and the opportunity to put some of them to work appealed to him. And he was certainly old enough to hold the job even though the bulk of the Senate was made up of more senior men.

He was touched on the shoulder and turned around to find Percival there. He had been expecting him and held out his hand. “How’ve you been?” he asked.

“All right. There’s been a great deal to do.”

“I believe that. When you’re through, are you going to continue in the business?”

“I’m not sure, Hew. It’s been quite a tour of duty, I’ll say that, but

I’d like to get back to my family, for a little while anyway, if I can.”

“I didn’t know you had one.”

“Three kids, and I don’t want them to grow up without knowing who their father is.”

Hewlitt opened his mouth to speak, then he saw Barbara coming. He waited for her and then put his arm around her in protective greeting for a moment when she stood beside him. “Where is he?” she asked.

“He’s not here yet. They’re bringing him in through the back way to forestall any last-minute problems that might come up.”

He looked at the familiar sleek lines of the four-engined jet transport that was fueled and waiting for its scheduled transatlantic flight. By order of the President, which in this instance probably meant that Admiral Haymarket had been responsible, Feodor Zalinsky and his immediate staff were being sent home in one of the official aircraft as though he had been an honored visitor. It was a bit of stage setting to support the “negotiations” between the premier and the senior American senator who was already overseas.

Hewlitt turned to Percival. “You’re sure that this won’t blow you — put you in any danger?”

Percival shook his head. “Under the circumstances — no. I’ve had advice on it.”

“I would expect so.” He left it at that; his conscience was clear. Before he could take up the next topic in his mind he saw a car coming, a single vehicle that was flying a flag on its front fender that gave it permission to be on the flight line. He watched as it pulled up, and the two secret service men who had been in his small White House cell got out. A few moments later Zalinsky appeared, wrapped in an overcoat which added little to his appearance. Hewlitt noted that; it was good stage setting for his return home, marking him as the humble people’s representative who still chose to wear the nondescript garments which had been his when he had left. Once more he realized that Feodor Zalinsky was not dumb.

He went over a few paces to meet him and was surprised when Zalinsky spoke first. “Good morning,” he said in English. “It is a lie, the day she is terrible.”

Hewlitt shook hands with him again. “I hope that it will be a lot better at the other end, Mr. Zalinsky.”

“It is necessary that it be, it will be my own country.”

“Then have a happy homecoming.”

Zalinsky abruptly changed the topic. “I see that you have the Barbara girl and the other man.”

“Yes, you asked to see them.”

Zalinsky began to walk over to where they were. He addressed himself first to Barbara. “We have also women in our country,” he said, “but you are of very good quality.”

She smiled for him. “Thank you, Mr. Zalinsky.”

“It is my sad fate that it became necessary for me to drive this man here into your arms.”

“Thank you very much,” she answered him.

Zalinsky thrust his hands into the pockets of his coat. “If I had been constructed higher and less round, I might have wished it differently,” he said, “but that for me is a fairy tale.”

He paused and studied the aircraft he was soon to board. “If I insult you I am sorry,” he added.

Barbara put her hands on his shoulders. “That never insults any girl,” she told him, “and if they pretend otherwise, they’re lying. Or they don’t deserve to be called female.”

“This is enlightenment I hope for my own country,” Zalinsky said. “For us Queen Victoria is still a very young person. And now this man.”

Hewlitt did not know how to make the introduction; Percival solved it by taking a step forward and offering Zalinsky his hand. “Since you admire Barbara, we have something in common,” he said.

Zalinsky shook hands with a slight embarrassment. “You are very intelligent,” he said. “I know of you for some time.”

Percival did not comment on that point. “I’m glad that it’s all behind us, Mr. Zalinsky, and I’m glad to meet you. You have done certain things that I personally appreciate.”

“It is good that we say this and then stop,” Zalinsky answered. “Agreed. Come back with your family, as a tourist, and let me show you around. You haven’t even seen the Grand Canyon. We have quite a nice place here.”

“I do not consider that possible.”

“Mr. Zalinsky, very few things are impossible anymore as long as we are living. Things change. People are changing. If you wish it, it can be.”

Zalinsky stared at his feet, then looked up once more. “It is time for me to go home,” he said. “I leave you now here.” He pulled his right hand out of his pocket, chopped a small gesture in the air toward each of them, then turned and walked toward the aircraft.

When he was on board, Barbara said, “I’m going into the terminal for a moment,” and left them.

“Will I be seeing you again?” Hewlitt asked.

“Very possibly,” Percival answered, “especially if you accept that Senate appointment.”

“You know about that.”

“Yes, it came down through channels. Do you care for some advice?”

“Shoot.”

“Take it; I think the admiral would be pleased.”

“Him again.”

“Quite a man,” Percival said.

“By the way,” Hewlitt began on a different topic, “I don’t really know who you are.”

Percival smiled. “It must have been annoying, but you understood the reasons.”

“Absolutely. And if you don’t want to say any more, stop there. We’ve just won a skirmish, but the real war isn’t over yet.”

Percival became sober. “I’m glad you see that, Hew, because unfortunately it’s so. I wish to hell that it wasn’t, but it is. I know too much about it; the public knows too little.”

“Why don’t you tell them?”

“Maybe you can help do that — in the Senate.”

“Maybe.”

The piercing howl of awakening jet engines cut them off for a moment; they watched as the transport turned toward the taxiway and began to roll forward.

When it was far enough away, Percival said, “I’d better get back to work now, Hew, I’ve still got a lot to clear away.” He held out his hand. “The name is Mark Goldberg; I’ll drop you a line if you’d like when I have a new duty station. I’m a lieutenant commander in the Coast Guard.”

“I wouldn’t have guessed that,” Hewlitt said.

“Our service doesn’t get the publicity, but we do our job. We’re a pretty proud outfit in our own way.”

“You’re a good proof of that,” Hewlitt said.

“It’s not the man, it’s the mission.” He saw Barbara coming back. “Keep that to yourself, my ID I mean; that goes for everyone.”

“I will.”

Five minutes later Hewlitt was alone with Barbara. “I hate to see Percival go,” he said. “I like him.”

Barbara agreed. “You’ll see him again. I’d met him before. I reminded him of that, if you remember.”

He recalled immediately the scene in the safe house. “So you did,” he acknowledged. He made a mental effort at that moment to put the whole business behind him. “Come on,” he said. “I want to go somewhere and do something — anything. You name it.”

She didn’t answer him until they were in his car and he had the engine going. “Hew, I want to ask you something first. I started to make a decision, then I realized that you ought to be consulted.” “About your pregnancy.”

“Yes. Let me make something very clear — you’re not on the hook in any way,”

He rolled the car out of the slot and toward the exit driveway. “Furthermore,” she continued, “I’m not the least bit interested in the morals involved; we’ve outgrown that, I think, and you were literally forced into bed with me.”

Hewlitt took over. “I don’t want your pregnancy to enter into this. If you want it terminated, then by all means have it done with my blessing. And I demand the right to pay the bill if the Air Force disallows it.”

She laughed a little. “I did incur the problem in line of duty,” she reminded him.

He drove out of the lot and picked up the main street of the base. “I realize that you have to make up your mind, and that you can’t wait forever. Now let me explain something: I’m not going to come galloping up on a white horse, leap off with plumes flying, and then ask for your hand before the whole court assembled while you blush violently and hide your face in an ecstasy of embarrassment.” She looked at him with interest. “Why not?” she asked.

“Because there’s a drastic shortage of white horses.”

“Oh, I see.”

He waited until they had cleared the base

“Barb, this whole damn thing we’ve been through has got me off balance. I can’t quite get it into my head yet that for practical purposes it’s all over.”

She came closer to him. “Me too.”

“Now I’ve been all but offered a seat in the Senate and it has more than four years yet to run.”

“Then that answers the question,” she said.

“No, it doesn’t. If I take it, assuming that I can get it then I want you with me. And none of this we-were-secretly-married business either; I don’t like that kind of fraud.”

“No one does.”

“If I don’t go into the Senate, and do something else instead then, if you’re game, I still want you with me. But either way, If you’re willing, let’s have the baby.”

“All right,” she agreed.

He turned and looked at her. “Since that’s decided — another topic. Can you put up with me?”

“Pretty well.”

“Care to perhaps be a senator’s wife?”

“No, but if I must, I will.”

He discovered that he wasn’t watching his driving. For perhaps half a minute he carefully concentrated on what he was supposed to be doing, but his compelling interest was elsewhere. “I want you,” he said. He was glad he had put it simply; he couldn’t stand maudlin sentimentality.

“I want you to have me,” she answered him.

Sentimentality or not, that called for action. He pulled the car halfway onto the shoulder strip and didn’t give a damn if it was still blocking traffic or not. “Come here,” he said.

He had held her before, they had been in bed together many times, but this was different. For a short while he satisfied his hunger for her, as much as he could in a public place, and ignored the barrage of honkings that was building up behind him. If he was blocking the lane he had earned the right, and he was putting it to good use.

When he was for the moment satisfied he released hold of her and put the car once more into gear. “Let’s go and have a good meal,” he proposed. “After that we can decide when, where, and how we’d like to get married.”

“Fine,” she responded. “As a matter of fact, I’m hungry.” “You’ve got a right to be.” He let a car pass him and ignored the glare that the other driver aimed his way. A thought crossed his mind and simply because she was his girl he wanted to share it with her. “I wish we could tell the admiral,” he remarked.

She looked at him sideways, then shook her head to reset her hair. “He already knows,” she said.