by Len Levinson
“It’s even harder to believe that a country as great as ours would go downhill as it has unless there was an organization like Hydra undermining it. Don’t you realize that certain people profit from inflationary prices, that certain other people get rich from slums, and that somebody is profiting from the plight of the independent farmer? You were in Chile—you saw what happened there. The people elected a man who promised to revamp the economy, so our CIA, in concert with the local military-industrial elite, killed him. The goal of our organization is to destroy Hydra so that people can control their countries and their economies themselves.”
“I don’t know,” Butler said, “but I think that when people find out about Bancroft, they’re going to accuse you of being a bunch of Communists.”
“That’s true,” Mr. Sheffield replied. “Anyone who tries to fight Hydra in America will be labeled a Communist, although we hate Communism as much as we hate Hydra. Communism has massacred too many people and put too many others in labor camps. Communist Hydra dictators have enslaved entire populations. No, Communism has shown itself to be nearly as terrible as the systems it has replaced. We at Bancroft are fighting for a world that is truly democratic and that will belong to the people themselves— not to big business regimes or Communist regimes. We think you would like to join us in this fight, and that’s why we’re offering you the opportunity to do so.”
“What if I turn you down?” Butler asked.
“You won’t,” Mr. Sheffield said with a smile, “because you feel exactly the same way we do about the world, and we offer you your only opportunity to do something worthwhile. What are your options: to retreat like so many other Americans into selfishness, paranoia, pettiness, narcissism, and superstition? Perhaps take a course in astrology? Come now, that’s not your nature, Mr. Butler. We know that and you do too. You really don’t have a choice. You are unemployed, you know. You have to do something. And I don’t think you’d want your old job back even if they offered it to you, which they won’t.”
“No, I wouldn’t want it back,” Butler agreed. “I can’t stand those people any more. But there’s a small obstacle to my accepting your kind offer of employment, Mr. Sheffield. You see, there’s the matter of a murder charge in New York. Somebody has framed me. That wouldn’t have been you, by any chance, would it?”
Mr. Sheffield laughed softly. “As a matter of fact it was. Let me tell you the full story of what we’ve been doing with you, Mr. Butler. To begin with, we’ve known about you for a long time. You see, we have many of our own people in the CIA. In fact we were planning to make contact with you when we received word that the CIA was going to fire you. So we merely set up a series of difficult situations for you and observed how you handled yourself. As I indicated earlier, you performed remarkably well.
“Your first test occurred immediately after you left the office of Mr. Shankham. You proceeded to a cocktail lounge, and there you met one of our agents, who identified herself to you as Wilma B. Willoughby. It was observed that you didn’t become drunk, you didn’t blurt out your bitterness about the Agency that had treated you so shabbily, in fact you were extremely circumspect. Those were pluses in your favor. Then you made your offer of sexual relations to Ms. Willoughby, she respectfully declined, and you were left alone for awhile. Once again, you behaved with dignity and circumspection. Oh yes, I forgot to mention something important. Ms. Willoughby, who is a very skilled operative by the way, dropped into your fine Irish whiskey a chemical with harmless radioactive properties. This chemical will remain in your body for approximately thirty days and permits us to monitor your whereabouts through various electronic gadgets that we’ve developed here at the Institute.
“All right, next you went home and found the body of Ms. Willoughby in your bathtub. We of course had already tipped off the police. Ms. Willoughby was not dead, by the way. She was merely in a deep yogic state that resembles death, for she is adept at yoga. She appeared dead but her mind was alert and she was aware of all your reactions. The cosmetic job was quite good, don’t you agree?”
“Certainly fooled me.”
“You handled yourself impeccably once more in a difficult and trying situation. You didn’t blow your cover. You kept your consternation under control and went peacefully to jail. And upon being released the next day, you disappeared in a most professional manner. Some Agency people attempted to follow you but you eluded them beautifully. We kept track of your movements through our electronic devices and followed you around Mexico, catching you in our little net when the circumstances were right. And so here you are. Any questions?”
“How do I know you’re not lying?”
“About what?”
“About everything. How do I know you’re not enemy agents?”
“I can’t prove that to you. You’ll just have to find out as we go along what we stand for.”
“How do I know that you really didn’t kill Wilma B. Willoughby?”
Sheffield chuckled. “Because she’s still alive.”
“How do I know that?”
“If I were to show her to you, would that help establish our credibility with you?”
“It certainly would.”
“I know it would, and that’s why we have her here. You see, we try to anticipate all contingencies and be prepared for them.”
Another spotlight on the ceiling came on, illuminating Wilma B. Willoughby herself, sitting on a chair to the right rear of Mr. Sheffield. She wore gray slacks and a yellow blouse, and her spectacles were perched pertly on her gently curving nose.
“Nice to see you again, Mr. Butler,” she said.
“Nice to see you, Ms. Willoughby. I’m happy to learn that my concern over your demise was premature.”
“Thank you for your concern, Mr. Butler,” she said sweetly.
Butler turned to Sheffield. “Is she going to testify in court that she isn’t dead or am I going to remain a fugitive forever?”
“Well,” said Sheffield, “obviously she can’t testify in court for you, and obviously your use to us will be greatly diminished if you’re a fugitive from justice. Knowing that, what do you think the solution is?”
Butler shifted position in the chair and placed his finger on his mouth as he thought for a few moments. “The only person who can give me an alibi is the cabdriver who brought me home from the Plaza Hotel. You don’t know who he is, do you, by any chance?”
“Don’t we?” asked Sheffield, and behind him Ms. Willoughby smirked.
“You rascals,” Butler said.
“It was rather insidious,” Sheffield agreed.
“But tell me something,” Butler said. “What if I’d failed your test? Would you have let me go to jail for the murder of somebody who wasn’t dead?”
“Of course not, Mr. Butler. We would have produced the cabbie sooner or later. But you see, our selection process must be flawless because Hydra is strong and totally unscrupulous. It is everywhere throughout the world, plundering, bribing, demoralizing, corrupting, subverting, spying and stealing. It will do anything for financial gain. And yet Hydra members are very disarming, for they dress well, are educated so well and have such good manners. But wherever you go in the world, if you ever find someone suffering, you will find close by a member of the Hydra Complex living in opulence, and talking sanctimoniously about how he deserves what he has because he has so much talent and business ability. But in fact all he has is a rapacious greed that knows no bounds, and enough sense to hire stooges to do his bidding. So be alert at all times, Mr. Butler. Hydra is a most formidable opponent, as I’m sure you know. You will have to use all the skills at your command, and refine them to their utmost degree, now that you’re working for us.”
“Who said I’m working for you? I haven’t made up my mind yet.”
“As I said, Mr. Butler, you don’t have many choices left. People who think like you have to join us. People who think like Hydra join them. And people who don’t think just drift with the tides and bec
ome the unwitting dupes of Hydra.”
“I want a few days to think it over.”
“All right. It’ll take that long for us to designate an appropriate assignment anyway.”
“Can I leave this place?”
“Of course. You may take one of our cars and drive to San Francisco if you like. You’re not a prisoner here. We’re not worrying about your giving us away to your former employers. You could no more betray us than you could betray your own soul, my boy. Well, if you have no more questions you may go now. Dinner is served from six to nine in the main dining room. Ms. Willoughby will be happy to show you around, won’t you, Ms. Willoughby?”
She smiled. “I’d be happy to do anything I could for one who expressed such deep concern at my death.”
“Good,” said Sheffield. “Well, have a nice day you two.”
Chapter Twelve
Wilma B. Willoughby led Butler to the corridor. “Is there anything in particular that you’d like to see?”
“I think I’d like to get some fresh air. Would you care to go out?”
“Sure.”
They walked through the corridors of the building, passing offices and laboratories. Wilma opened a rear door and they stepped into the bright sunshine of an autumn day. They crossed a graveled parking area and came to a grassy hill, which they descended via a narrow path that led to a rocky crag overlooking the Pacific Ocean. They sat on the grass and watched the huge waves crashing onto the rocks and sand below. Sea birds shrieked overhead; the air was fragrant with the smell of flowers and the salt of the sea.
“You know,” she said, “if I hadn’t been in a deep yogic state of suspended animation, I would have burst out laughing while I was lying in your bathtub. You were so funny. You should have seen the look on your face.”
“Yes, but you couldn’t see yourself. You looked as though Jack the Ripper had got to you.”
“Our cosmetics people are first rate. They can do almost anything, and they work with chemists who can make just about any substance you can imagine.”
“What happened to your body after I was taken away?”
“I was taken to the morgue, and of course we have some of our people working there, so now all that’s left of me is a folder in a file cabinet.”
“I take it that Wilma B. Willoughby isn’t your real name.”
“No, only the Wilma part is real.”
Butler looked at her cleanly etched features. “How did you wind up in the Bancroft Institute, Wilma?”
“It’s a long story. I was a psychologist working for a clinic in Boston, and I began to realize that most of my patients were suffering from emotional problems that were caused by economic difficulties. They had stupid meaningless jobs that bored them to death, and usually they were struggling to make financial ends meet. The ones who had enough money to live on were in even worse shape, because they couldn’t hang on to the illusion that everything would be all right once they had more money. I saw how empty and meaningless life is for most people because of the way Hydra has organized the system, and in fact ray life was starting to become meaningless when I realized that I couldn’t help them very much. The only thing that could help them would be a more sensible, humane society. Well, I was talking about these things to a doctor friend of mine one night, and he happened to be a member of the Bancroft Institute. He recruited me.”
“Did you find him in your bathtub one morning?”
“Oh no, they worked out something else for me. I had to release some people from a mental hospital, and I managed to do it. It was a very tricky operation and if I were caught it’d be the end of my career, but I did it somehow. And now here I am. Of course, the work I do isn’t as dangerous as what you’ll be doing. I’m with the personnel department and I help with recruitment. You’ll be out there on the front lines doing the heavy stuff.”
Butler scratched his cheek. “Why does everybody take it for granted that I’m going to join the Institute? I very well might not. I mean, who needs the aggravation?”
“Oh, stop playing hard to get. You know you’re going to join. What else can you do?”
“I have a small income. I might just take things easy.”
“Doing what?”
“Oh, a little tennis, some theater, maybe a trip to a faraway land.”
“Is that how you’re going to spend the rest of your life—playing tennis, going to the theater and traveling?”
“Why not?”
“You’ll get bored. And besides, you have very strong feelings about certain things. They’re so strong that you couldn’t cover them up when you were in the Agency, and they got you fired. Do you think those feelings will ever give you any rest?”
Butler thought for a few moments. “I don’t suppose so,” he admitted.
“Accept your fate with grace, Butler. You’re going to be working for the Institute from now on.”
“Are employees of the Institute permitted to socialize with each other?”
“Are you referring in an oblique manner to sexual intercourse?”
“As a matter of fact I am.”
“I thought so. First of all, we are not employees of the Institute, but members. We hold regular elections and so forth. You conceivably could be chairman of the organization someday, and so could I. In reference to the sexual intercourse, members of the Institute can do whatever they like in their personal lives, providing it doesn’t interfere with their operational effectiveness.”
“In that case, would you care to proceed with me to my room?”
“No I wouldn’t, because I feel it would undermine my operational effectiveness. And besides, that’s one of the crudest advances ever made to me in my entire life. However, I can understand your position. Men in your line of work don’t have time for long courtships, because you might be dead tomorrow. So you take your pleasure wherever you find it and try not to waste time.” She shrugged. “Sorry I can’t help you out.”
“It’s all right.”
“And it’s not because you’re not a charming man.”
“Of course not.”
“The problem is that I don’t have round heels like so many women do these days.”
“I understand.”
“I have to be in love, and it’s not easy for me to fall in love.”
“That’s perfectly all right.”
“Love is the most beautiful thing in the world.” She looked off to the horizon.
“Indeed it is.”
“It should not be taken lightly.”
“Of course not.”
“I’m very pleased that you’re able to respect my point of view.”
“It’s a perfectly logical point of view. How could I not respect it?”
“You really are a very nice man,” she said.
“Thank you.”
“And you’ve had a rough time lately.”
“That’s very true.”
“Maybe we could go to San Francisco tomorrow. Would you like that?”
“Yes, but I’m afraid the law enforcement authorities in New York have an all points bulletin out on me as a bail jumper. A sharp-eyed cop might see me, and that could complicate things.”
She sighed. “That’s true. I forgot about that part.” She brightened and smiled. “Well, I could play tennis with you. We have very nice clay courts on the other side of the building.”
“Do you think somebody would have a racquet I could use?”
“Oh, we have lots of racquets here. Come on. Let’s get some wholesome exercise.” She stood up.
He arose beside her. “I’d much prefer unwholesome exercise, but any kind of exercise is better than none at all.”
He permitted her to precede him up the hill, and occasionally he glanced at her pert bottom and strong legs as they made their way upward. He had several impure thoughts and let them play around in his mind because they didn’t harm anyone. Butler had learned long ago to be philosophical about life. He’d learned that you can’t always have
what you want, and sometimes you’re better off without it.
Chapter Thirteen
They played a few sets of tennis that afternoon and in the evening dined with other members of the Institute in the room set aside for that purpose. The talk ranged from politics to science to sex and Butler found his new companions interesting and congenial. They all were as concerned as he was about the corruption of American institutions by the Hydra Complex, and they feared, as he did, that Hydra might plunge. America and the world into another war someday. They also expressed concern for poor and disadvantaged people, and Butler found that refreshing. Most of the people he normally associated with tried to pretend that poverty didn’t exist, or blamed it on the poor people themselves—which to Butler was like trying to blame a cancer patient for getting cancer.
After the meal, Butler and Wilma took a stroll on the pathways cut into the cliffs overlooking the ocean. It was dark and a full moon made a blazing trail across the waves. They sat on a bench and Butler glanced at her elegant profile, pleased to be in the company of a woman who was not totally obsessed with the latest fashions and hairdos, and who had a deep personal commitment to making the world a better place in which to live.
“Have you ever thought of getting married?” Butler asked.
“That’s an unusual question. Are you going to propose to me?”
He laughed. “No, but I’m curious about you. I think you’re a very unusual person.”
“Oh, I’m not so unusual.”
“In my experience you are.”
“I’ve been married,” she said. “Now I’m divorced.”
“I don’t mean to pry, but why did you get divorced?”
“Oh, we saw the world much differently; I’m sure you know how it is. He was rather a selfish person, and that’s what I grew to dislike about him. He was a marine biologist, totally involved with his work. In the evenings he read science fiction, and politically he held extremely reactionary views. It’s strange, but I’ve noticed that many science-fiction enthusiasts hold very reactionary views. I’ve always wondered about that. Anyway, we were steadily moving in different directions, and finally we divorced. How about you?”
