The First Team

5

The hardest decision that Hewlitt could recall ever having had to make was to go to work the next morning. For a long and nearly sleepless night he had lain in his bed, living over and over again the hideous scene he had been forced to witness on the White House lawn. Often he found it difficult to believe that it had actually occurred; it seemed a dreadful nightmare that the dawn would at last dispel.

During the first hours of daylight he thought the problem out. If he went to work, he stood a good chance of being dealt with in the same manner as Bob Landers, and he had no desire to have his brains blown out by some animal on two feet with the intellect of a cretin. The risk was definitely there, because he was a member of Landers’ little organization, even though his role so far had been an entirely passive one.

He visualized the possible scene in the Oval Office: Zalinsky would say to him, “Were you a member of his organization?” If he were to answer no and Zalinsky knew better, as he very well might by now, that would be it — then and there.

If he admitted to it, it would be pure suicide. If he tried to vacillate by saying that he had been approached but had not agreed to participate, it would not only be cowardly, but also it would in all probability totally wreck the White House cell. It was worse than Hobson’s choice; he had nowhere to go at all.

If he simply did not show up, his personal situation would be bad and his usefulness to the organization would be over. Considerations of personal risk retreated when he remembered again that sight he had seen on the South Lawn: Landers’ cadaver lying there with the sick ooze coming from the hole in his skull. The abiding concern now was to find a way to counterattack. He knew then that he was going to go to work; he got up and went into the bathroom to shave.

For the rest of the working week he was left strictly alone. After the first few hours had passed the suspense grew less; then he began to wonder if Zalinsky was waiting for him to make some sort of move. The obvious counter to this was to do nothing, particularly since he now had no contact and no assigned mission to perform. He spent the time in his office reading; it kept his mind busy and was as good an occupation as any for the time being.

As the time passed, he did not drop his guard. With his nerves at concert pitch his temper with himself became short as he tried to carry on under the almost intolerable strain.

Late on Friday afternoon his phone rang. His heart jumped at the sound, fear he could not control began to edge through his body as he picked up the instrument. “Hewlitt,” he said.

“This is Barbara.” Her voice recalled her at once — her face, her shining black hair.

“Yes.”

“I’ve been thinking,” she said, “about the suggestion you made the other day.”

He picked up her lead at once. “I remember.”

“Well, the way that things are, and after what’s happened, it doesn’t seem to make much difference anymore. I guess that we might as well have a little fun while we can.”

“Good,” he answered her. “I feel very much the same way. How about after work tonight? We could have dinner…”

“As good a time as any, I guess.” The line went dead.

He hoped, almost fervently, that the call marked the beginning he had been waiting for. He remembered the risk, but he thrust that thought aside; there would be no point in trying to exist like a vegetable. If he couldn’t be around at the finish some others would be. And they might remember his name.

When his watch at last told him that he was free to go, he locked his desk just to give them trouble opening it, wrote “T.G.I.F.” on his calendar pad, and felt for a few moments that he was again the master of his own destiny. As he made his way toward the West Gate he realized that he didn’t know the girl’s last name and had no idea where she lived. It didn’t matter; what he did know was that Landers had vouched for her and that was enough.

She was waiting for him outside, wrapped in a coat which to some degree concealed her succulent figure, but not the striking black hair. Fcr an instant he wished that the rendezvous was a real one; Barbara in bed was something sensational to contemplate.

As he approached her she nodded slightly in recognition. He walked up and asked, “Did you bring a car?”

“A cab would be better, I think.” He liked her voice and the way she spoke. She kept it from being a demand or an order; it was a suggestion he could override if he wanted to.

Frank was there waiting; without explanation Hewlitt put her inside, climbed in himself, and then asked, “Where to?”

“Drive out toward Maryland,” Barbara said. “I’ll show you where.”

Obediently Frank started up and headed out in a northwesterly direction. The usual Friday after-work traffic was far heavier than normal; there had been rumors all week of a severe gasoline rationing program to come, coupled with that was the apparent desire of all who could to get out of a city that promised nothing but greater disaster to follow. Following Barbara’s occasional directions Frank worked his cab slowly through the almost impossible congestion until they reached the state line. A half mile farther on she stopped him before a good-sized shopping center and indicated to Hewlitt that she wanted to get out.

He asked no questions. He handed her out of the cab and reached in to pay the bill, but Frank nodded with his head that he was to come to the other side. Hewlitt walked around the car and then leaned in. Frank took the bill which he offered and then asked, “Did I take you back to your place tonight, or what?”

Hewlitt appreciated that; he was a good man and clearly he was willing to take a chance if he was asked to do so.

“No,” he answered. “If anybody asks you, I had a young lady with me — they’ll know that anyway. You took us over to the Maryland side and dropped us off somewhere around here. You may not remember exactly.”

“That’s no joke in this traffic,” Frank said. “Then that’s how it is. You be wanting me later?”

“Maybe, but right now I can’t say.”

With his change Frank handed him a card; it stated with proper formality Taxi and in one corner frank jordan. At the other corner was a telephone number.

Hewlitt put the change and the card in his wallet together, spoke his thanks, and rejoined Barbara, who was waiting silently for his return. When the cab was gone she led him casually past the stores which were still putting up a brave show of carrying on the usual way of life. The window displays were as bright as ever; from the record mart hard rock music came surging out of the door. It was America on any Friday night, on this one pretending as best it could that nothing had happened.

The real estate office was well back toward the rear and behind a row of other shops which depended much more on eye appeal for their trade. Barbara walked in the door with the kind of familiarity which implies an established relationship and leaned on the railing before the one occupied desk.

The woman seated there was short, solidly built, and had white pudgy fingers. Her hair was cascaded up into an artificial arrangement which made claims that her body could not fulfill. Vermilion lipstick accentuated the lines worn into her face; the eyebrow makeup was an anachronism which had been applied twenty years too late in her life. A certain hardness emanated from her; it told of the years that she had spent earning her own way, of the disappointments she had had, of the few pleasures that had come her way. It told also of a hard-gotten bank balance that was her security against the fate that life had prepared for her, and that she would guard it with her life’s blood. She was a businesswoman.

She looked up, offered a mechanical, commercially approved smile, and asked, “May I help you?”

“This is the gentleman,” Barbara said. There was no emotion in her voice, the heavy restraint she had maintained since Hewlitt had picked her up remained intact.

“Oh, yes, of course.” The woman got up, crossed to the wall behind her, and surveyed a board hung with keys. After some scrutiny she took down a set from one of the hooks, checked the tag, and then brought it back to the counter. “This is really a very nice place,” she said. “It’s not too far from here; you can walk if you want to. Take your time looking it over; if you don’t want to see it tonight you can go in the morning, just so long as I get the keys back by noon.”

“That’s fine,” Barbara said. She dropped the keys into her purse, gave Hewlitt an unexpected half smile, and led the way out. When they were by themselves she turned and said, “There’s a little restaurant here, if you like Chinese food.”

His mind was confused as he nodded. He was prepared to follow any clue that she gave him, but the tone of her initial invitation over the telephone, plus the business of the keys, had him slightly off balance. They were a long way from the White House now and there was no visible need for play acting. Despite this, her mood and actions appeared to be directed along a single pathway which gave him a strong feeling that he was simply along for the ride.

They ate together in a small but quite attractive little restaurant which clearly outclassed the one which Hewlitt occasionally visited near his home. It was much newer, the menus were less thumb-worn, and the decor was more subtly conceived. The food, as far as he could tell, was the same. They sat in a booth making conversation which had little shape and definition. They spoke to each other from time to time, exchanging bits of trivia, but saying nothing. Hewlitt enjoyed Barbara’s company, but the occasion was too heavily overshadowed for it to be anything more than a surface pleasure. He realized that there were many things he would have liked to have said to her if the circumstances had been less strained. This time he was entirely following her lead; she had started this game and until he knew what the rules were he was content to wait.

Barbara excused herself while he was paying the bill; he wondered if she had gone to telephone. She rejoined him promptly enough to dispel that notion and then led the way outside. When they were by themselves once more she turned and asked, “Would you like to go and look at the house now?”

“Fine,” he answered. He still did not know what she really had in mind. There was an obvious explanation and he considered it carefully: they had met semisocially and, while he did not regard himself as anything exceptional as a potential lover, it could be that her purely animal instincts called for masculine company. Under such circumstances she might well prefer someone who could be relied upon to keep his mouth shut. It was doubtful if she was concerned with protecting what once would have been called her reputation; too many girls regarded that consideration as archaic and too many men no longer desired a spotless virgin for a bride. But when a girl who carried the responsibilities that she undoubtedly did chose to relax, she would have good reason to want a companion she could trust.

It took them almost fifteen minutes to reach the house. It appeared to be a quiet ordinary one which had had the good sense to be neither conspicuously better or worse than its contemporaries in the immediate neighborhood. It sat a little back on the lot; a short straight driveway led up to the garage. Two or three sun-faded throwaway newspapers before the front door suggested that no one had been in or out for at least a day or two.

Without glancing either way to see if anyone was watching, Barbara fitted the key into the lock and opened the door enough to pass inside. As Hewlitt followed, the slight mustiness of the air told him that despite the furniture in place the house was unoccupied. Barbara dropped her coat onto a chair, glanced at him, and said, “You take the upstairs.”

He knew precisely what she meant. He went through the small second floor carefully, opening all of the closet doors, and for a finale checked the panel covering the crawl hole which gave access to the small space between the ceiling and the rafters. It was tightly shut, and when he attempted to move it, a fine sifting of dust told him that it had not been disturbed in some time. Brushing himself off he went back downstairs, noting the undistinguished furniture, the commonplace prints of bug-eyed children which adorned the living room, and two pieces of bric-a-brac which depicted a leaping gazelle and a Japanese geisha girl in the best traditions of lower Broadway. Whoever lived here, or had done so, had been contented with an installment payment decor and had picked out the objets d’art at a price of a dollar or two each.

As Barbara returned to the living room Hewlitt put the tips of his thumb and first finger together and raised his hand for her to see it.

“You were thorough?” she asked.

He nodded. “All the closets, under the beds, the shower stall, the attic entry, behind all of the doors. Did I miss anything?”

She sat down on one end of the low-priced davenport and the tension visibly eased out of her. “I’m sure you didn’t,” she answered, and her voice was eloquent with relief. “Come over and sit down. Now we can talk.”

Hewlitt sat besicfe her. “Who lives here?” he asked.

“I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter. These houses come on and off the rental market all the time. The woman in the real estate office used to be with the Agency; she still helps out now and then. It’s simply impossible for them to bug every house in Washington and then listen in on all of them, so when some perfectly ordinary people move out, we use the premises.”

“How long has this been going on?” Hewlitt asked.

“Not too long, only since we discovered how much listening in was being done all over town. When they get onto this trick, we’ll use something else.”

“I understand. Now let’s get down to cases; you wanted to see me.”

Barbara shifted her position and folded her legs up underneath herself.

“Yes. First, did you hear what happened to Bob Landers?”

“I was there; I saw it.”

She brushed a hand through the air. “I don’t mean that. Captain Scott, who’s more or less an Air Force messenger boy between the

White House and the Pentagon, asked to see Zalinsky. He got in. When he did he asked if Mr. Z minded what he did with the body. He was told that it didn’t make the slightest difference; he could do with it as he liked.”

“Scott was a little nervy,” Hewlitt commented.

Barbara nodded. “He was. He took the body to a mortuary and had Bob properly laid out. The next day he got some people from the Navy and some others, and made some fast arrangements — I don’t know just how. Anyhow, they took Bob to Arlington and buried him there, military honors and all.”

Hewlitt felt a surge of admiration for the men who had done that even while he was evaluating the risk that they had taken. “Is Scott one of our people?”

“Not so far as I know, but he’ll bear looking into. Now let’s get serious for a minute. Answer me point-blank — are you Asher?” “No, positively not. Are you?”

The moment he said it he realized the absurdity of the question, but once more his mouth had been faster than his brain.

Barbara ignored the slip. “I’ve checked with Mary; she hadn’t been contacted either. So as far as we know, there’s iust the three of us.”

“Let me tell you what I think,” Hewlitt said. “Since this organization has been set up for some time, I don’t believe that we should trust anyone — no matter who — until Asher appears on the scene. Somebody gave Bob away. He looked pretty bad just before…” He stopped to reshape his words. “I’m sure they put him through hell before he was shot, and God only knows whether he was able to keep his mouth shut or not.”

“Did he look as though he’d been drugged?” Barbara asked.

“No.”

“Then we’ll have to go on the assumption that he was able to protect us. If not…” She shrugged her shoulders and let them fall. “I agree with you absolutely that we trust nobody — take nobody in — until we are contacted in some way by Asher. If after a month nothing has happened, then we can talk about it again.” “That long?” Hewlitt asked.

Barbara nodded. “I know a little more about this sort of thing than you do, at least I think I do. Impatience is one of the worst enemies.”

“One month, then,” Hewlitt agreed. “I hope it isn’t that long.”

“If you hear,” Barbara continued, “let me know. Invite me to lunch and suggest an Italian restaurant if you’ve met him, a Chinese one if you’ve heard in some way.”

“Fine.”

“Two more things: first, don’t contact Mary; that’s to prevent too obvious a connection between the three of us. Don’t underestimate her either; she’s a very bright girl and knows how not to let it show.”

“All right.” He was a little frustrated that she had no more concrete news for him. “What’s the other thing?”

“This is my idea pure and simple, but until we get orders to the contrary, I suggest that you become my visible boyfriend. I just got rid of one, so it’s all right. That will cover any contacts we make.”

“I’d been thinking of the same thing,” Hewlitt said. “To be sure that I understand the ground rules, just how far does this, or is this, likely to go?”

Barbara looked at him. “That’s up to you,” she said. “Just don’t take too much for granted, that’s all.”

On Monday morning Zalinsky sent for him. This time he welcomed it; if he was to be confronted with a question about Landers he wanted it over and done with. Any kind of action was preferable to the inertia he had been enduring. He took pad and pencils and presented himself, feeling for the first time that he could face this man unafraid.

When he had been admitted Zalinsky waved him to a chair. He was again wearing the poorly cut suit he had had on during his first day at the White House and Hewlitt noted it; the President seldom wore the same suit twice in one month.

“Today we will converse in my language,” Zalinsky said.

“Very well,” Hewlitt answered. The idiom he used suggested that he had given his consent. Zalinsky noted it and looked up, but he made no comment.

“You are now extremely displeased with me,” Zalinsky went on in his own tongue, “because of the execution of Major Landers. He was your friend — I know. By the way, what does T.G.I.F. mean?”

“Thank God It’s Friday.” Hewlitt switched to English, as he had to.

“I see. I have no desire whatever to enlist your sympathy, I have no need of it, but do you know why I ordered the execution of your friend Landers so promptly?”

Hewlitt saw the trap: if he gave any indication that he was aware of Landers’ underground activities he would condemn himself with the same breath. He allowed a suggestion of suppressed rage to show momentarily on his face. “I have no idea whatsoever. Furthermore, he was a very outstanding man. You destroyed.

He stopped as though he were incapable of going on.

Zalinsky put his fingers together. “I told you that he was a fool — that was true. Like Don Quixote he wanted to fight the world when he was defeated hopelessly before he began. But he was a soldier who would not surrender; you should have had more of them.”

“And for this you ordered him shot,” Hewlitt said. He was totally unafraid now. When Zalinsky spoke his own language some of his crudity disappeared and he gave ample evidence of being an educated man. Hewlitt realized fully that he spoke Zalinsky’s language far better than Zalinsky spoke his.

“That is correct,” Zalinsky continued. “You will recall that I told you you were children at this game; you should take note of that fact. We became aware of the fact that Landers, your friend, was engaged in a reckless attempt to annoy us against our specific warnings to the contrary. My security people, who are not as stupid as their sometimes commonplace faces might suggest, reported this to me and also to their headquarters at home. Major Landers was inconclusively questioned after which I ordered his immediate execution. These instructions were carried out approximately one hour before I received orders to ship him back at once under close guard for complete interrogation in my country. The outcome would have been the same, but if you possess the intelligence that I suspect that you do, you will see that I spared him a great deal. A very great deal; many men would have prayed to God, if they had one, to be allowed to shoot themselves rather than to undergo professional interrogation such as we are able to administer.”

Hewlitt’s legs began to shake slightly; he had to make a massive effort to control them.

“Now to the business at hand,” Zalinsky went on. “I wish to have you arrange for me what you call a press conference for ten o’clock tomorrow morning. It is absolutely your responsibility that only the people who should be there are admitted. I will permit no questions. All personnel who come, male or female, will be searched; if any attempt is made on my life by any member of the press group, they will all pay equally for that offense. These facts you will make clear in advance.”

“Yes, Mr. Zalinsky,” Hewlitt said.

“Good. I trust you enjoy the company of Miss Barbara Stone-ham.”

“Very much so.” As far as he knew, he did not turn a hair.

“Then that will be all. Hereafter, when possible, we will speak in English. I require the added practice.”

“Yes, Mr. Zalinsky.” He rose and left the room.

Although it was not normally his job, Hewlitt arranged the press conference as he had been directed with the aid of Cedric Culp, who, up until a few weeks previously, had been the President’s press secretary. Three members of the regular White House corps, all male, refused to attend when the requirement of submitting to a personal search was made known to them. Of those who did come, many had their first direct contact with the wooden-faced, hard-handed security personnel whom Zalinsky had brought with him. Sharp resentment tightened the atmosphere; no one regarded it as a joke.

Several minutes before the scheduled time the conference room was already well filled and strangely still. The usual little conversational groups did not form, and there was none of the normal stir which had always preceded even the most important of the President’s meetings with the press. Because he had been directed to call this conference, Hewlitt had taken advantage of the implied permission to be there himself. As he stood to one side now he thought that it was like a jury in a courtroom, except that this time the roles were reversed and those present were here to listen to the pronouncement of their own fates.

Three minutes late Zalinsky made his appearance. He entered without any pretext of formality, his face set in a stiff pattern which denied the least hint of cordiality. In his left hand he carried a sheaf of papers. With his slightly awkward walk he crossed to the podium which had been set up for him. The presidential seal had, of course, been removed, so that only the bare wood faced those who were seated before him. Zalinsky’s suit was the better of the two Hewlitt had seen, but it had not been pressed for the occasion. As he took his place before the microphones the room remained as it had been — almost totally quiet.

He surveyed his audience without any display of emotion, then he picked up the first sheet of the papers he had brought in and began to read.

“My name is Zalinsky. If at any time you have occasion to speak to me, you will address me as ‘Mr. Zalinsky’ and in no other manner. I am here to administer this country along the lines of policy which was decided from long ago. I will now explain to you what some of this policy is.”

He stopped and took a drink of water. Hewlitt noted it carefully; it could be an indication of nervousness before an audience and he was meticulously collecting every possible weakness of the man that he could detect. The words that Zalinsky had just delivered were obviously not his own, a fact which he also considered worth cataloguing.

“The conquest of your country,” Zalinsky continued to read, “was begun several years ago. Into this place we sent our agents, and they in turn were able to get many of your people to act for us. Some knew it and many did not. While you argued we planned and helped you to argue more. Always we planned for surprise. Our propaganda over the whole world was very effective; yours was pitiful.”

He looked around the room after that, but got no reaction whatever.

“In your newspapers your cartoon people drew the pictures we wanted — not always, but often enough to be of great value to us. We made slogans: you laughed at slogans, but on your Madison Avenue you hired people to make slogans for you about cigarettes and other things. Your slogans sold more cigarettes, our slogans conquered your country. So do not try to make slogans against us — we are better at it than you are.

“It is important that I tell you now something that was not made public two years ago because at that time it had not happened. You had a big Air Force with many planes. But they were getting old and you needed new ones. With our agents we learned that your McDonnell Douglas company had a very good design; we are building it now. Also your Boeing company made a good design. But you did not buy these planes because a Mr. Seymour Brown also had an airplane which was a very poor design, but he had much influence. With great force of pressure he influenced your Congress, and because we knew that it was a very bad plane, we were glad to help. I shall not tell you to whom he paid money, but to many other people he gave gifts, arranged things, supplied very loving girl friends. Of lobby people he had many with also much money to spend. Because of this you bought his airplane and he made a great deal of money in your Wall Street.”

Hewlitt was not sure, but he thought he detected a possible hesitation before Zalinsky continued.

“I now announce for you certain policies which become fact immediately. You will abide by them; if you do not, we will not trouble with you, you will be removed permanently. This has already begun to happen; some of you know this. It will surprise you that we do not intend to ruin your country; instead we intend to, and will, improve it greatly. You will be much happier that we have come. Not all of you, but most.

“You are each to continue the work you do until directed otherwise. You will not strike. We will shortly decide the payment wage for each job, and that you will receive. From this you will pay no income tax, as that is a capitalist invention against the masses. We will take taxes, yes "but in different ways.

“All laws you now obey you will continue to follow until we tell you what is different.

“There will be no naked dancing by women in public places.

“All tobacco and beverages of alcohol are forbidden unless bought from our own stores which will be ready very shortly.

“No person will buy more than two pairs of shoes in each year. Our people need shoes.

“Our security police will be obeyed at all times and no one will speak against them.”

It was definite this time. Hewlitt clearly saw him stop and take a fresh grip on himself. Not because he was tired, clearly he wasn’t; but the pause was unmistakable.

“Beginning very shortly, all people known as Jews will be barred from public office, from teaching, and from certain other places we will designate.”

An electric shock, unseen but violent, paralyzed the room. Images of Adolf Hitler and the horrors of the Third Reich seemed to burst into being. Hewlitt stared at Zalinsky, but this time no emotion whatever could be read on his broad features.

The administrator picked up his papers and left the stage. Hewlitt did not know his own emotions; he had not had time to respond to any as he looked quickly about him. The press people were leaving as rapidly as possible, but they were not speaking to each other; it was more of an emergency evacuation with every man for himself.

Hewlitt swallowed hard and tried to find reality. He had known within himself that something drastic was bound to happen, but he had never dreamed of this. The first clear and coherent thought which came to him was in the form of a question: he wondered if black-haired Barbara Stoneham was Jewish.

He walked back to his office slowly, trying to think — to sort things out in his mind. The questions which confused him were not moral or ethical; he was concerned as to what would happen next — and after that. He walked into his office hardly aware that his phone was ringing.

He picked it up mechanically and said, “Yes?”

A female, mature voice he did not know wasted no time. “Mr. Hewlitt, did you arrange this press conference?”

“Yes.”

“Then will you come over to first aid right away, please.” That was all.

On the table in the small medical facility a man was lying on his back. He was breathing steadily and deeply, his eyes were open, but his mind seemed to have left his body. An efficient-looking middle-aged nurse Hewlitt had never seen before spoke to him without bothering with formalities. “I think you’d better call his paper, Mr. Hewlitt, or his home, and get some help. He’s in shock. No danger, but he should be moved from here as soon as possible.”

“Who is he?” Hewlitt asked.

A man in the room, whom Hewlitt had been aware of but had not looked at directly, answered the question. “Sol Horowitz of UPI. He’s had a bad heart for years.” He stopped, looked at Hewlitt, and realized that he was not one of the enemy. But his voice was still bitter when he spoke. “He was in Dachau when the Army came through and rescued him. All the rest of his family died there.”