He'd been listening, of course. His approach and timing were just a little too good to be true. He'd waited until I'd got everything out of her he wanted, and then he'd hurried in here to apologize and smooth things over, at my expense. Well, I could hardly blame him for not wanting to have a rich Texas female raising hell with her senators and congressmen.
Of course, I reflected, he could have saved himself the trouble by interrupting us at the very start of the proceedings. He could have broken it up and reprimanded me sternly for even considering such methods. He could have established his identity and asked for her patriotic cooperation-but he wouldn't have been Mac if he'd done that. This way he got a double check, first having me bully the information out of her, and then appearing himself, all consideration and apology, to gain her confidence and confirm that what she'd told me was the truth.
It was a beautiful example of the two-man interrogation technique, even though I hadn't known anybody was backing me up, but I couldn't help wondering exactly what he was doing here, two thousand miles from Washington, and how he'd come to have my hotel room bugged in the first place. After all, he hadn't been expecting me to bring this particular sister out of Juarez…
"You speak of your men," Gail was saying. "Just precisely who and what are you, Mr. Macdonald?"
Mac reached into his pocket. "Here, I think, is sufficient identification. You're entitled to see it, under the circumstances, but I must ask you to keep the information in strict confidence."
I watched her read the papers he'd given her. Presently she gave them back. "Of course I won't talk," she said. "But I don't understand… is this hoodlum really a government agent?"
Mac said quickly, "Mrs. Hendricks, you must understand, when men are trained for dangerous missions, when they are indoctrinated for violence, they sometimes find it hard to draw the line…"
"I see," she said. "Like savage dogs."
"If you want to put it like that. Actually, this is one of our best operatives. His name is Matthew Helm and he has done very good work…"
She wasn't following the summation for the defense.
"And my sister," she said. "He said she was a member of the same outfit. Is that true?"
"Yes. At least she was supposed to be."
There was a brief silence. Gail frowned. "Supposed to be. Just what does that mean?"
Mac said deliberately, "Mary Jane Springer, or Sarah as we knew her-that was her code name with us, as Mr. Helm's is Eric-was sent to Juarez after a certain individual who, we believe, is acting as an enemy agent and whose headquarters of sorts is in the Club Chihuahua. As you may know, this desolate southwestern country contains a good many secret government installations of great interest to the other side."
"I know," she said dryly. "I hear there's even a new breed of radioactive jack rabbits out on the desert. They glow in the dark."
"Yes," Mac said. "Well, your sister was selected for the task of dealing with this man who was becoming troublesome to various people. Having been born in Texas, she knew the area well and spoke Spanish fluently. There were other considerations that helped make her a logical choice. However, after she'd been on the job for a while, another government agency, running checks on a certain security matter, sent the fingerprints and description of a suspect through channels. In due time, they reached my office in Washington. They tallied with the data in your sister's file."
"But-"
Mac went on, overriding the interruption. "I was not greatly disturbed, Mrs. Hendricks. This sort of thing happens. It only meant that, unknown to us, another agency had been watching the Club Chihuahua for other purposes, and Sarah's behavior had aroused their suspicions, which was only natural. I had a conference with the director of the agency in question, hoping to straighten things out so we wouldn't be working at cross purposes. He was very secretive-these security people are always hard to deal with-and he would give me no information whatever about his people or their activities in the area. He would not even give me access to the pertinent reports. He did, however, have excerpts made, which I compared with Sarah's reports. There were large discrepancies."
"Discrepancies?" Gail said. "What kind of discrepancies?"
"Sarah's accounts of her contacts and operations in the Club Chihuahua did not coincide at all with the accounts of the other operatives on the scene. In other words, somebody was sending in falsified reports."
"The other agency-"
"It's a possibility, of course, and they are checking the people involved. Meanwhile, I intercepted Mr. Helm, here, on his way East and diverted him to El Paso. He was to get your sister out of Juarez and bring her to this room." Mac rose and walked to a picture on the wall. He raised it to display the microphone underneath. "There are recording instruments next door. We like to have complete transcripts in cases like this. I flew in from Washington to conduct the interrogation myself. In our business, we cannot afford to take disloyalty lightly."
Gail licked her lips. "Why, you're assuming that Janie is… you're taking for granted she was guilty! Without proof!"
"Proof, Mrs. Hendricks?" Mac held out his hand towards me, palm up. I had the little film capsule ready, figuring he'd be wanting it sooner or later. I gave it to him. He held it out to show her. "Is any further proof needed? I might add, it wasn't entirely by accident that Mr. Helm was in the club at just that time. We had information that something of an incriminating nature might be passed, and that Sarah would act as the go between. Our man likes to play safe, apparently. He prefers not to take delivery of dangerous materials directly."
"But-"
"I'm afraid there's no room for doubt. Mrs. Hendricks," Mac said. "It was a hard assignment. I would not have let Sarah take it on if she had not seemed quite certain she could handle it and eager to try. I believe revenge was a motive; I did not inquire too closely… Your sister was a rather difficult psychological case, you know. I have medical reports to the effect that her sexual attitudes were confused and immature. Normally, I pay little attention to such reports. I'm interested in the scores my people make on the target range; they can work out their sexual attitudes for themselves. But perhaps I should have given a little more weight to these reports, under the circumstances."
"I… I don't understand."
Mac said, "As I told you, your sister was ideally suited to the task in many respects-but most particularly because she was already acquainted with the man we were after, so there were none of the usual problems of identification and contact. But there was an emotional problem-it isn't easy for even a well-balanced woman to deal objectively and ruthlessly with a man with whom she has once been… shall we say, very close?"
Gail frowned quickly. "Close? You mean she'd known this man that well…?" Her voice stopped. Her eyes widened. She said, "My dear man, you can't be hinting that this mystery man of yours, this elusive enemy agent…?" She was silent again. Mac did not speak. She said flatly, "Sam? Sam Gunther?" Then she began to laugh.
IX
She laughed and laughed. I guess it was nice to find something funny at last on this dreadful evening. There was also, no doubt, a little hysteria involved. After she'd gone on for a while I took a step forward with the thought of snapping her out of it, but Mac gave me the lay-off signal with a slight movement of his hand. He hadn't cracked a smile. I took my cue from him and waited with a perfectly straight face.
Her laughter died gradually. She sat down on the bed, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of my dressing gown, and looked up at Mac helplessly.
"My dear man," she gasped. "My dear man, if you knew how utterly ridiculous… Sam Gunther, of all people, the professional Texas charm boy!" She couldn't help giggling at the thought. "I'm sorry, Mr. Macdonald. Somebody's given you an awfully bum steer. Now, if you were after him for victimizing rich old ladies with his boyish grin, or getting some susceptible divorcee to pay his way from Reno to the Riviera… But Sam Gunther as the Master Spy in cowboy boots, why, that's just downright crazy!" She fought another gigg
le and lost.
"I'm sorry that I can't share your amusement, Mrs. Hendricks," Mac said. His voice was cold. "I may be prejudiced, but I always find it difficult to see anything humorous about a man who has killed one of my operatives."
She stared at him, shocked I said quickly, "LeBaron?"
Mac nodded. "Shot in the chest at close range. He was taken to the hospital in Juarez. He died without gaining consciousness. For a mere gigolo, Mr. Gunther seems to be handy with firearms."
I started to speak but stopped. I'd been going to ask if LeBaron had been warned the opposition was dangerous, but it would have been a shy question. We're not supposed to have to be warned, and a man with a gun is always dangerous.
Gail Hendricks licked her 11ps. "It… was an accident, I'm sure. Sam was just trying to help me. He didn't know-"
Mac said, "LeBaron was a trained man, Mrs. Hendricks. He had received thorough instructions in how to deal with an armed opponent. I prefer not to believe that he met his death by clumsy accident."
Those were just words, of course. The only really effective way to deal with an armed opponent who keeps his head, if you haven't got a gun yourself, is to place a solid obstacle between you and him and run like hell. But if Mac wanted to make a point, I wasn't going to spoil it with awkward technical details. It did seem to me we were telling this woman a lot of stuff she had no business knowing, but I couldn't complain about that, either,, since I'd started it. I presumed Mac had some plan for keeping her mouth shut.
I heard my own voice. "Where's Gunther now?"
Mac glanced at me. "He has disappeared. The border is being watched."
I made a rude sound. "It's a thousand-mile border. Who's going to watch it all?"
Gail was shaking her head. "I still can't believe Sam isn't my favorite person by any means, but-"
"There seems to be no doubt about it," Mac said. "Washington has been trying for years to identify an enemy operative who goes by the code name of Cowboy… What amuses you now, Mrs. Hendricks?"
"If it's Sam, he certainly dresses the part."
"That could be his way of thumbing his nose at all the agencies that have been trying to discover his identity, flaunting his big hat and cowboy boots as he goes about his work. Even a clever agent will often allow himself a small touch of arrogance. Of course, it is always a weakness, sometimes a fatal one."
"Well, I never rated Sam as very clever," Gail said. "And aren't you forgetting something, Mr. Macdonald? Maybe he's been to the Club Chihuahua before for other reasons-I don't know about that-but he was there tonight because I brought him. He wasn't eager to go."
"Very probably he wasn't eager to go with you, Mrs. Hendricks," Mac said. "Your insistence upon visiting the club in his company at just this time must have been awkward from his point of view; naturally, he was reluctant."
"But-.-"
"I wouldn't be too eager to take responsibility for Mr. Gunther's presence, Mrs. Hendricks," Mac said smoothly.
"As the person who accompanied him to the scene, you're already in a rather unfortunate position. I thought, of course, that you would claim to be an innocent dupe. They always do."
She frowned. "They? Who?"
"The legal term is accomplice, I believe."
There was a moment of silence. Her eyes widened. "My dear man, what are you driving at?" she demanded.
"My dear lady," he said, using the form of address deliberately, "consider the facts. Your sister, unfortunately dead so she cannot be questioned, was undoubtedly working as a double agent. That is, still maintaining a pretense of working for us, but actually betraying us to the other side. Whether she succumbed to Mr. Gunther's physical attractions a second time, or whether he used other means of persuasion, doesn't matter for the moment. She was helping him, and she was doing it voluntarily-"
"How do you know that?"
Mac said patiently, "She was still sending in reports.
There are certain signs, certain signals, for an agent to use when his reports are prepared under duress, or when he knows they will be read by the enemy and is therefore making them deliberately misleading. No such signals showed up in your sister's communications… I think we may take it as established that for one reason or another she had gone over to the enemy, or at least to Mr. Gunther."
"Then why was she killed?"
Mac moved his shoulders. "It is a common fate of double agents. They walk a narrow and uncertain path, knowing too much about both sides. They are expendable." He paused. "Now let's examine your part in tonight's proceedings, Mrs. Hendricks. At a critical moment, you arrived in the club with Mr. Gunther. You admit you' brought him; he did not bring you?"
She hesitated. "Well, as a matter of fact, he did suggest that the ten-thirty show-"
"I see," Mac said dryly. "So now Mr. Gunther has some say in the matter. It is no longer entirely your idea."
She said angrily, "I don't like your attitude at all!
There's no need to start acting like a prosecuting attorney!"
Mac shrugged. "I'm afraid you're going to have to get used to prosecuting attorneys, Mrs. Hendricks. You're apt to meet quite a few of them in the near future."
She was on her feet, aghast. "What do you mean? I haven't done anything! You can't think-"
"What I think," Mac said gently, "or what Mr. Helm thinks, is quite beside the point. The facts speak for themselves. You arrived at the Club Chihuahua at precisely the strategic time. When things went wrong, you were quick to take the secret material from your sister and receive her instructions. When an agent of the U.S. Government asked you, a loyal citizen, to turn this material and information over to him, you refused to cooperate, forcing him to resort to violence and intimidation. His actions weren't quite legal, perhaps, but I doubt that he'll be condemned for excessive zeal, under the circumstances."
"But how could I believe him?" she demanded. "He had no identification, no-"
"Mrs. Hendricks, the taped record in the next room will show that Mr. Helm, before resorting to other means, did everything in his power to convince you of his genuiness, even to taking oath on the 'Holy Bible. I'm sorry, but I'm afraid you'll have to consider yourself under arrest."
She gasped. I refrained from looking in his direction. I suppose we can arrest people if we have to-any citizen can, under certain conditions-but we don't make a habit of it. He was throwing a scare into her for some reason. Standard procedure required that, now that he was taking the heavy part, I should suffer an abrupt change of heart in the subject's favor.
I said, "Sir, I don't really think-"
He glanced at me impatiently. "What is it, Eric?"
"Isn't is possible that Mrs. Hendricks has been just…well, a little naive and foolish?"
He said, "That may be, but let's be practical. One of our agents has gone over to the enemy-this woman's sister. Even though the girl is now dead, it puts us in a very bad light. Do you understand? We are also going to have to report the loss of a second agent, and the unpalatable fact that important government secrets have been compromised. The wolves in Washington will want blood. Well, let them chew on Mrs. Hendricks, while we continue our task of locating and dealing with the real villain. She was given every chance to cooperate and she refused. Innocent or guilty, she has earned no consideration from us."
"But, sir, in all fairness-"
Gail Hendricks made an impatient gesture. "Oh, stop that silly dialogue. You don't fool me one little bit, either of you. You're both… both equally despicable!" She faced Mac defiantly. "If that microphone you showed 'me is working, how is the little speech you just made going to sound on your precious tapes?"
Mac spread his hands. "My dear lady, it will never be heard. If the technician was fool enough to record it…well, magnetic tapes are easy to erase and edit."
"I see." Her hands were clenched into fists. Her face was white. "It's just a frame-up, is that it?"
"My dear lady-"
She made a strangled sound. "If you call me
that again, I… I'll scream!" There was a little silence. She glanced at me quickly. "What are you grinning at, you elongated ape?"
I didn't answer. As a matter of fact, I wasn't grinning. Mac said, "We are merely doing our duty, Mr. Hendricks, reporting matters bearing on national security that have come to our attention. I will send in no information that is not absolutely accurate, believe me. I may delete a few items I consider irrelevant, but that hardly constitutes a frame-up."
She touched her lips with her tongue. "You're being stupid and ridiculous, you know that, don't you? Nobody'll believe for a minute-"
"No?" Mac opened his hand and showed her the little film capsule again. "Less spectacular evidence than this sent Alger Hiss to the penitentiary and the Rosenbergs to the electric chair, Mrs. Hendricks. Would you like to see what is on this film you carried hidden on your person and refused to surrender?"
She hesitated and licked her lips again. "Yes."
Mac studied her face for a moment. Then he pried open the small cartridge, and spoke without turning his head.
"Eric, you have a magnifier, haven't you?"
I got it for him. He examined the film strip briefly, and passed it to Gail, with the glass. She frowned and squinted and moved the lens back and forth helplessly.
"Just hold it next to your eye," I said, "and bring the films up into focus. It's customary to look towards the light."
She gave me an angry look, but followed instructions. I saw her get a sharp image at last. A startled expression came to her face.
"But this is-"
Mac said, "You undoubtedly have read about the project in the newspapers. It is known, picturesquely, as Operation Mole: the underground atomic explosion to be set off shortly in the Manzanita Mountains, not too far north in New Mexico. We've had hints that there might be trouble about it."
The Silencers mh-5 Page 5
