The First Team

7

The initial crews of workmen who were brought in to blast out the underground headquarters for Thomas Jefferson were told, by means of some carefully planted rumors, that they were preparing a storage area for nuclear weapons. The need for strict secrecy was stressed and observed; the job was done with almost no leakage of information. Those who came after them understood that the facility was to be a supersecret alternate command post for NORAD, to be ready in case anything happened to the well-known installation near Colorado Springs. The men who installed the living quarters and all of the complex communications equipment were also worthy of the trust reposed in them; when they left the isolated mountain area the local people knew only that something had been going on. Since there were many classified defense projects in that part of the country, very little interest or discussion was generated. And since the visible traffic to and from the facility was very limited, it was assumed from the start that it was not of major importance.

From the beginning Admiral Haymarket had applied some ideas of his own toward maintaining the secrecy of the project. In the entire Pentagon there was not one scrap of paper which supplied any information whatsoever concerning Thomas Jefferson. The necessary communications facilities were both inconspicuous and protected by fail-safe, auto-destruct devices set to function the moment that the equipment was opened or a call attempted without first dialing a code number known, just prior to the start of the surprise conflict, to four men. The funding was handled by the President himself with dollars which were never knowingly appropriated for the purpose by the Congress.

During the time that the headquarters had been under construction the admiral had been busy reviewing the records of hundreds of individuals in whom he had had a preliminary interest. He weeded ruthlessly, not always following the guidelines which had been in use for some time to decide who would be trustworthy and who not. In particular he chose one newsman whose capabilities were extraordinary and through General Gifford approached him about serving his country without giving the least indication as to what the duty would entail, where it would be located, or the duration of the time involved. Shortly after that conference had been held the editorial employees of a major national publication were told that one of their colleagues had been diagnosed as having a serious lung condition; there was genuine concern and sincere regret when he left for Arizona and an indefinite period of recuperation. Not long after his departure the word filtered through that his illness had worsened to the point where he was being kept in absolute quiet without visitors or communications by mail. Eventually some Christmas cards were sent to him, but none were received in return.

The admiral also knew of, and got, a former Marine major who had been mustered out of service when he recovered from battle injuries incurred in Vietnam with part of his left hand missing. A retired industrialist quietly disappeared from the golf club where he had been spending much of his time; it was understood that he had interested himself in some mineral resources project located in northern Alaska.

An Air Force search and rescue pilot whose physical bravery and devotion to duty were legendary was relieved of his command and assigned to “classified duty”; his colleagues knew better than to ask where he had gone.

The most spectacular addition to the team the admiral was so carefully assembling was a circus performer whose death-defying high dives had terrified spectators throughout Europe and America. The admiral had had to go to the President himself to get him since the Central Intelligence Agency had had no intention of relinquishing one of its best men.

When they were finally assembled, they constituted the best that the nation had available. Gradually, other personnel were selected to support them and to carry out the field operations they would direct, if such action became necessary. To these other people the invisible men who constituted the heart and brains of Thomas Jefferson were known by a code name of their own invention. The admiral liked it and adopted it officially; from that time forward they were called the First Team.

As the admiral had watched the inauguration of the new President on television he had given silent thanks for the foresight of the man who was being replaced. The new President, he had felt with reasonable confidence, would go along with what had already been established, but it was quite doubtful that he would have been willing to fund and develop something like Tom Jefferson on his own initiative.

It had not been long after that that the President had been compelled to flee Washington and, invisibly, the First Team had moved to the center of the stage.

The thought of what they were up against was in every member’s mind as the team met around the functional conference table on the same day that the funeral services for Admiral Haymarket had been held earlier, by permission of the occupying forces, in

Arlington National Cemetery. It was a grim and sober time; so much so that the very walls seemed to reflect back the gravity which pervaded the room.

One minute before the time at which the meeting was formally scheduled to begin, the door to the residential section opened and Admiral Haymarket entered the room. He sat down briskly at the head of the table, rested his forearms on the top, and nodded his greetings. “We seem to be off to a good start,” he said. “Every report I’ve had on our initial effort has been most encouraging.”

“Yes, sir,” the Marine major said. “The operational team that handled it did a first-rate job.”

“Let’s have a brief account,” the admiral said. “All of us can stand to hear a little good news.”

The major addressed the table generally. “The body was defrosted and prepared as planned. It was a little gruesome at the time, but the way in which Dr. Heise smashed in the face with the duplicate steering wheel was a work of art. The accident, I understand, went off perfectly except for the fact that there was no fire; we were rather hoping for one.”

“Couldn’t you have arranged that?” the circus performer asked. “Yes, but not without an element of risk; it’s difficult to do without leaving some evidence on the scene. We decided against it.”

The retired industrialist made a note. “I’ll look into that,” he said. “We ought to be able to develop something.”

“Fine,” the admiral commented. “Go on, Ted.”

The major continued. “Our study of Rostovitch indicates that he never takes anything at face value, and he didn’t this time. He went to the Bureau of Naval Personnel personally, don’t ask me why, and picked up the fingerprint card we had planted there. I’ve had a good report on that.”

The search and rescue pilot, who wore the Air Force Cross ribbon on his uniform, raised his hand.

“Yes, Henry,” the admiral said.

“When you laid out the ground rules, you stated that we were expected to bring up every doubt that arose in our minds.”

“Right.”

“Two questions: first, is there any likelihood that they might exhume the body?”

“If they do,” the major said, “I believe that it will withstand any examination they might give it; it was very carefully selected. We have a set of dental charts planted, too, in case they go that route.” “All right, I’ll accept that. Second question: admiral, at this moment how many people outside of this room know that you are still alive?”

“The President knows; I am in contact with him. The operational team that staged the accident knows; that was unavoidable. Other persons within our organization know because they have to. And my wife knows. I’ve been married to her for more than thirty years and her discretion is absolute. She’s had lots of practice.”

The former reporter spoke up. “I saw a little of your funeral on TV — they didn’t allow much of it on the air. She wept very convincingly; I was deeply moved.”

“She was an actress,” the admiral said, “and a damn good one, before I married her. Any more questions?”

There were none.

“All right. Gentlemen, as to our campaign plans: we have not had adequate time since this department was established to prepare for all contingencies. During this past week I have been reviewing everything that we do have and all of the other possibilities that suggested themselves. Until someone comes up with something better, I’m in favor of going ahead with Low Blow. Against the background of the present situation, it’s the best bet that we’ve got.”

There was silence.

“Any comments?” the admiral asked.

“We’d be putting a lot of our eggs into one basket,” the industrialist said, “but it’s one hell of a basket.”

“Can we do it in such a way that if it gets shot down, the whole show won’t be compromised?” the circus performer asked.

“Yes,” Haymarket answered.

“I’ll buy it,” the Marine major said. He ran the fingers of his remaining hand through his closely cropped hair as though the sitting still irked him.

Admiral Haymarket looked around the table, but no one else had a comment or a question. “Then I take it that for the present, at least, we are in agreement. Let’s get the machinery going, because it’s going to take a while and it will be as tricky as all get out.”

The industrialist nodded, a solemn bean pole of a man in contrast to the very muscular circus performer who sat next to him. “Those things can’t be rushed,” he agreed.

The admiral had one more thing to say. “In any kind of warfare you have to expect casualties; we’ve had a bad loss right at the beginning. Bob Landers, whom some of you knew, I’m sure, was spotted, interrogated, and then shot on the White House lawn. The best information I can get indicates that he didn’t talk, but even if he did he couldn’t have blown more than his own immediate local contacts. We’ve been watching them and so far they seem to be all right — although it could be a cat-and-mouse game to draw us in. I’ve had a contact made. There was an element of risk, but I was banking on Landers as I knew him. The White House is very important to us if we can establish a reliable listening post on the inside.”

“How was Landers found out?” the high diver asked.

“I don’t know yet,” Haymarket answered. “One of my best people is looking into it. I just hope that no anxious amateurs get in his way.”

Senator Solomon Fitzhugh sat alone in the solemn quiet of his office, long after everyone else had gone, struggling with his inner conscience and a heavy secret with which he was burdened. Despite the fact that it was decidedly painful to him, he was carefully retracing in his mind the events which, when strung out like crows sitting on a fence, had conspired to put him in his present dilemma. The starting point, he knew, lay in his own character and convictions. There were certain things in which he believed so implicitly that he had never had cause to question them before; foremost among these was the unshakable belief that war is hell. He held this so deeply that it had overshadowed and influenced his entire legislative career. If he could keep the nation out of armed conflict, no matter what the price, he was going to do it. If human life was beyond all value, then the preserving of large amounts of it would be of incalculable worth. “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall inherit the earth.”

There was one possible excuse for warfare, and that was when you were actually invaded and had to fight on your own soil to defend your own womenfolk and children. However, the simple fact was that if everyone followed the same principles that he did, there would be no invasions and no one would ever have to fight to defend his homeland.

His mind would not let him evade the responsibility of what came next; it took him overseas in swift retrospect and to the capital of the nation which had so ruthlessly and shockingly overcome the United States of America. Although his trip had been presumably a private one, and he had been accompanied by his family, it had not been viewed in that light upon his arrival. He had been accorded all of the protocol formality which he might have expected had he been there officially on behalf of the government as the designated representative of the President. He had been taken to see many things, he had been wined and dined, and he had been given a private meeting with the premier himself.

The American embassy had been a little disturbed by that, but the senator had held the firm conviction in his mind that he could talk to any man on earth without fear, for his conscience had been clear.

The private conference with the premier had been in many ways a vindication of the principles upon which he stood. He relived it again now. Once more he was back in the warm informal room. In the middle was the table beautifully set with delicacies and three bottles of the one alcoholic beverage that he genuinely enjoyed. The premier himself was pouring the drinks; as they sat down together, apart from some language difficulties of a very minor sort they might have been two men of goodwill meeting anywhere in the world on a topic of common interest. Although the premier’s command of English was incomplete, he spoke it well enough to make an interpreter unnecessary, a factor which helped to establish an aura of private mutual understanding.

It literally never occurred to the senator that the premises might be equipped with any kind of a listening device or that the words he spoke informally could be fed into a sensitive tape recorder.

The premier raised his glass. “To your visit to our country,” he said.

“Thank you, sir,” the senator responded, “and to the pleasure of being here.”

“In these few private moments which we are having to share with each other,” the premier continued, “there are many things we can to say.”

“I agree, sir,” Fitzhugh said. “But I must remind you that I am only one of one hundred senators, and the Senate itself is far from being the final authority in the legislative process.”

The premier gave him a shrewd look. “What you say, it is true, but the reality — it is different. From the one hundred senators you are one of the most important. You have, what is it…?” “Seniority?”

“Yes, that is the word. We do not use it here. In fact, I will go further: your career, we have watched it for some time. I welcome you now as an important senator. I expect to welcome you before long another way — as the President of the United States.”

Fitzhugh flushed — he could not help it. To every elected official of the government above a certain level that thought of the White House was at times unavoidable. Fitzhugh knew that he lacked the glamor sometimes thought necessary for the big job, but experience and sober counsel, plus his known dedication to keep the nation out of war, could have a tremendous voter appeal in times of stress and trial. “Keep our boys at home,” could well be his campaign slogan. If he were to be called to that highest office, he would serve with unswerving devotion to duty, and there would truly be peace in his time.

The premier drew up a chair and sat down. With the care which befitted the dignity that might come to him, the senator also sat down and prepared to listen and to speak.

All that had followed he could not remember in total detail, only that he had upheld some specific ideas concerning which he had long been on the public record, and in turn the premier had been surprisingly frank about some of the internal matters within his own country. At one point he even had asked Fitzhugh for his advice and appeared to take deep note of the possible solution which had been presented to him. When at last they rose, the premier had made one final remark. “About our talk together I ask that you remember most one thing: there is no conflict between us simply because with different systems we are engaged. You do not desire our territory — we know this, it is elementary. And also you look first at the map of my country and you will then no problem have in believing that we are not desiring yours.”

That had been a totally practical statement, and a delineation of policy which upheld every thesis that the senator had supported for years. He had shaken hands warmly with the premier and they had drunk a final toast together before the private conference was concluded.

From that meeting Fitzhugh had gone home with his last doubts dispelled and a reenforced dedication to the work which lay before him.

At sixty-two years of age he sat in his chair, the sharp memories still acid-fresh in his mind, trying to make the pieces fit together as he wanted them to. Political expediency, the need to hold his own job against a tidal wave of internal opposition, could explain the premier’s astonishing change of attitude. The harsh, belligerent statements being made now simply did not fit with the man he had met and talked to in such a close and candid relationship. The refusal of Zalinsky to see him was a pinprick, brought on because the ridiculous administrator presently occupying the White House hadn’t been told about the personal relationship between his premier and the man who had proposed to call on him. When he did find out, it would be an altogether different matter.

Then through the senator’s sagging body an electric current of realization suddenly took hold; he physically responded and sat up straighter in his chair. All at once, in a sudden flash of inspiration, he saw the whole thing, he gulped in a deep lungful of air and marveled that it had taken him so long. His hands tightened, his jaw muscles started to work, and a fresh supply of adrenalin began to feed into his bloodstream. As the truth dawned, in its fresh strong light everything that had been troubling him so much stood clearly revealed. It all fitted together and it was right, as he knew it had to be. For the first time he understood what the premier had meant when he had said that he expected to welcome his senatorial guest back as President of the United States. Because now it could very well be.

He was so completely elated by his discovery of the truth that even the knowledge of his almost certain elevation to the presidency became secondary. The United States was not in any danger — it had never been. The premier was a man of great political sagacity; the whole world was aware of that. When he had taken office he had inherited a vast military machine, one which had been built up with almost ruthless singleness of purpose at the harsh expense of the civilian economy. And, most important, many of the men who had put the premier into power had been responsible for the almost intolerable burden of military costs.

That situation could not continue indefinitely, as the premier knew very well. Yet if he were to begin reducing the armed forces, as Fitzhugh himself had done, his supporters would have removed him without ceremony and installed someone else who would be more responsive to their wishes. Militarists were the same the world over.

Therefore the premier had made one of the boldest and most astute political moves in world history. He had had his strategists map out the stunning surprise campaign which had brought down the United States literally before the Air Force planes could get off the ground or the ground combat units brought into effective action. Some people had died on both sides, but compared to the staggering toll a real world conflict would have entailed, losses had been slight. That eliminated the superpower against which the enormous military machine the premier controlled had been aimed. With the United States no longer in a provocative military posture, the need for the premier’s armed might disappeared. The premier had been entirely truthful when he had said that his country did not desire to take over millions of square miles in America; the enormous territories he already controlled could supply all of his present and future needs for as far as any man could forecast.

The conquest of the United States had simply been a brilliant move to deny his own military establishment any further right to exist.

Japan had been conquered by the United States in a long and bloody conflict with intense hatreds generated on both sides. Yet after the peace had been signed, Japan had forged rapidly ahead in far better condition than if it had not been defeated in the first place. Now Japan and the United States were friendly powers, granted that restrictions had to be imposed to curtail low-priced imports from the Far East from entering the United States in sufficient quantity to compete effectively with the products of America’s far more advanced economy.

The war, such as it had been, was over. Zalinsky was a brief stopgap and nothing more — a futile figurehead. After war comes peace, the inevitable meeting of the two sides to agree upon the terms of settlement. The President of the United States had, for all practical purposes, abandoned his office. Furthermore, he had never met the premier. But Senator Fitzhugh, who sometimes liked to think of himself in the third person, had. He was in Washington, and what was far more important, he was-the undisputed leader of the peace movement in the United States government.

Then he knew. Within a few days time he would be summoned to speak for his country, for he alone knew the truth as it had just been revealed to him. He might meet the premier again in Europe or even on American soil — it made no difference. Between them the artificial dispute would be settled with a proper show of mutual negotiation. The premier would emerge as the man who had conquered America and his position would be unassailable before his own people. He would sweep the militarists out, reduce his armed forces to token units, and get on with the rehabilitation and development of his civilian economy.

As the peacemaker, Fitzhugh knew, he himself would return home in triumph, revealed as the one man who had been right all along. After that his call to his country’s highest office would be all but automatic. Solomon Fitzhugh, President of the United States. It had a fine ring to it, a ring of rightness.

Only one thing troubled him after that. When he had seen the premier for the first time he had hesitated to bring up the conspicuous anti-Semitic policies of his government — it had been at that time an internal matter affecting the premier’s country only and an intrusion by an outsider might have destroyed the fine rapport which had been established.

The singling out of the Jews worried Fitzhugh. If it went on too long it could have serious consequences. On his next conference with the premier, whether it would be slightly awkward or not, he would have to bring it up. His only son was dating a Jewish girl, and while a marriage undoubtedly would not take place, she was a very nice young person, well-behaved, and deserved his protection.

For the past several weeks Hewlitt had had a growing sense of unreality. The Billiken in his mentality told him that there was no one named Zalinsky in the White House — that no such person would even be admitted to the grounds, and that the cloak and dagger atmosphere into which he had been casually wandering was a celluloid creation as unreal as the monsters in an amusement park go-cart ride.

But the fact remained that he was in a very real house, surrounded by actual people despite their difference in ethnic background, and that a code word he had been anxious to hear had just been spoken to him with unmistakable clarity.

The pieces were all there — it was the total that came out wrong.

Asher was an ancient name, one of the twelve tribes of Israel, but it was not common. The man before him was Asher, he had announced that, but he did not fit the image of Asher as he should have been.

Hewlitt looked at his glass to see how much he had drunk of his cocktail. “That’s an unusual name,” he said, sparring for time and more data.

“I thought that you might have heard it before,” Frank answered.

Hewlitt saw the opening and took it. “I have, but I’m trying to remember where.”

Frank took his time, sipping his drink with apparent concern. “Maybe from Major Landers,” he said.

That, Hewlitt knew, was conclusive. That fact that he had known Frank for more than two years made it difficult to accept him in this new light; by logic and rights it should have been someone who normally would have been at a reasonably important echelon of the government.

“Forgive me,” he said. “You surprised me, that’s all.”

Frank smiled. “Understood, Mr. Hewlitt, I don’t blame you a bit. Take your time if you’d like.”

“How did all this come about?” Hewlitt asked.

“Well, you remember my telling you that I had been a Marine once. I was well treated in the service and I liked the work. The way the cards came out I was assigned to intelligence and they found out that even if I didn’t have much brains, at least I could keep my mouth shut.”

He stopped to wave his glass in greeting at a newcomer who had just entered the room, then went back to his topic.

“It’s a funny thing about cabdrivers, people almost never pay them any attention. They don’t look at them, they don’t remember their names, and sometimes they don’t even know that they’re there. And they always let you know where they’re going, they have to do that. Remember that I told you too how people sometimes talk to cabdrivers when they’re alone and ask them all sorts of things. An’ one very important thing: a cabby in his hack can be anywhere at almost any time without people wonderin’. Night or day, a guy driving a cab isn’t questioned; maybe he’s on a call, or just dropped off a fare someplace. An’ if he shows up when you want a ride, you don’t ask him how he came to be there.”

“Let me get this straight,” Hewlitt said. “Are you a real taxi driver or aren’t you? If not, you had me fooled.”

“Oh, I’m real enough all right as far as it goes. When I’m not needed I hack like everybody else. But when they want me, I’m on call.”

“How do you manage to pick up the right passengers, for example…”

Frank took a little more of his drink. “I don’t think we need to get into all o’ that,” he said. “I’ll give you a for instance: suppose I’m to pick up a certain guy at the Mayflower. A couple of the other guys are there too, just in case. I get in line, but not too far forward. Then just before the subject comes out, some of our people step up and take the hacks ahead of me. That’s one way. But like I said, you don’t need to worry about all that. The point is, there’s work’to be done now.”

Hewlitt took a long pull at his own drink. “Do you believe Davy’s statement that this house is completely safe?” he asked.

“Bank on it, Davy is one of the boys — which is one reason you’re here tonight. An’ this isn’t an ordinary house — it belongs to the Agency. It’s been fixed up with a lot of hidden equipment so that if anyone monkeys with it, we know it right away.”

“Does Davy actually live here?”

“Yep, and he makes sure that things are in order. Like me he’s got protective coloration, so not many people are willing to believe that he’s bright. You can take it from me that he is.”

Hewlitt felt a developing sense of interest, even excitement. He believed what he had been told, and he had heard enough to be convinced that Frank was all he claimed to be. He had wanted action; now there were greatly improved prospects of getting it. He too had always liked Frank; already he began to feel a certain kinship with him despite the differences in their backgrounds.

“What do I do now?” he asked.

“I was just comin’ to that,” Frank said. ‘I’ve got some orders for you. From up above. Major Landers told you that there’s an organization.”

“Yes, but for a while I wondered about it.”

“You can stop wonderin’. There’s a real good one and it’s run by pros; they know exactly what they’re doin’. Are you ready?”

“Go.”

“All right. First off, you aren’t to do anything on your own, no matter how good it looks to you at the time. Bob Landers did and he fell inta a trap. You know what happened.”

“Do you know what it was?”

“Right now, no, but we found out that he walked into a setup. So don’t do nothin’ on your own, nothin’ at all. Until you get the word from me.”

“If anything happens to you?”

“You’ll be contacted. And when it’s the right guy, you’ll know for sure. If there’s any doubt, any at all, don’t bite.”

“O.K.”

“Next, no matter how good somebody looks, don’t do any recruiting, leave that to us; most of the people we want are already picked and set up. Some of ’em know it; some don’t yet.”

“What can I do?”

“Several things. First, keep datin’ Barbara — that’s important. An’ it shouldn’t be too hard to take.”

“Not at all.”

“Good enough, she’s a real smart girl. What we want you most for right now is a listenin’ post. You got that new job right next to Mr. Z and we want to keep you there. So keep your nose real clean; do what he says. Sure as hell they’re goin’ to push somethin’ under your nose; don’t try to run with the ball, but don’t play stupid either, ’cause they know you aren’t. Just try to imagine that you’re strictly on your own, against them, but a little scared because of the Landers thing. If you play stupid, they’ll be on to you right then.”

That was good advice and Hewlitt knew it.

“Whatever comes your way,” Frank continued, “you pass on to me, or if you can’t, give it to Barbara. Mostly, though, she and Mary will be feeding you. You know what the word ‘control’ means in this business?”

“Vaguely.”

“Well, I’m your control, which means that I give the orders, I pick up your info and, if it comes to that, I look after you if I can. Nobody else, not even Davy, if I go under. If that happens, hang on tight and someone’ll get to you. Right now you can trust Barbara, Mary, Davy, and me, later you’ll get a couple more.”

“It sounds as though I’m going to be the cell leader.”

“No, Barbara is, but you’re the contact man because it’s a lot easier than to have me seein’ a white girl all the time. She’s got the experience, so she calls the signals, but you work with me.”

“How do we do that?”

“You follow my lead. Never talk to me, no matter what, unless I ask you first if Barbara’s given in yet. If’n I do, that means that it’s safe. Because of the way we had to set this up, Barbara knows who I am; we’ve worked together before. But the others don’t and you die before you tell ’em, you got that?”

Hewlitt digested the words. “Clearly,” he answered. He was beginning to believe in this man.

“All right,” Frank said. He rose to his feet and Hewlitt got up with him. “Don’t be surprised,” Frank said when they were standing together, “if Barbara and her friend move in here after a little while.”

“In this neighborhood?”

“About the best place for it,” Frank answered. “We’re goin’ to turn this into a real nice whorehouse.”