The Osterman weekend
Page 23
He turned slowly back to the government men "There are still questions."
"We'll never be able to give you all the answers," said Jenkins. "No matter what we tell you now the questions will be around for a long time. You'll find inconsistencies, seeming contradictions, and they'll turn into doubts. The questions will become real again. . . . That's the difficult part. Everything was too subjective for you. Too personal You operated for five days in a state of exhaustion, with little or no sleep. Fassett counted on that too."
"I don't mean that. I mean physical things. . . Leila wore a brooch that could be seen in the dark There were no bullet marks in the wall around her. . . . Her husband wasn't here when I was u the Village last night. Someone slashed the tires then and tried to run me down. . . . The rendezvous at the Lassiter depot was my idea. How could Fassett have known if one of them hadn't told him? . . How can you be so sure? You didn't know about MacAuliff. How do you know they aren't . . .' John Tanner stopped as he realized what he was about to say. He looked at Jenkins, who was staring at him.
Jenkins had spoken the truth. The questions were real again, the deceptions too personal.
Grover leaned forward in his chair. "In time everything will be answered. Those questions aren't difficult. Fassett and MacAuliff worked as a team. Fassett had the telephone taps moved to his new location once he left the motel. He easily could have radioed MacAuliff in the Village to kill you and then gone out to the depot when MacAuliff told him he'd failed. Obtaining other automobiles is no problem, slashing tires no feat. . . . Mrs. Osterman's brooch? An accident of dress. The unmarked wall? Its location, as I understand it, makes direct fire almost impossible."
" 'Almost,' 'could have' ... oh, God." Tanner walked back to the sofa and awkwardly sat down. He took Ali's hand. "Wait a minute." He spoke haltingly. "Something happened in the kitchen yesterday afternoon..."
"We know," interrupted Jenkins gently, "Your wife told us."
Ali looked at John and nodded. Her eyes were sad.
"Your friends, the Ostermans, are remarkable people," continued Jenkins. "Mrs. Osterman saw that her husband wanted to, had to go out and help you. He couldn't stand by and watch you killed. . . . They're very close to each other. She was giving him permission to risk his life for you."
John Tanner closed his eyes.
"Don't dwell on it," said Jenkins.
Tanner looked at Jenkins and understood.
Grover got out of his chair. It was a signal for Jenkins, who did the same.
"We'll go now. We don't want to tire you out. There'll be plenty of time later. We owe you that. ... Oh, by the way. This belongs to you." Grover reached into his pocket and withdrew an envelope.
"What is it?"
"The affidavit you signed for Fassett Your agreement with Omega. You'll have to take my word that the recording is buried in the archives. Lost for a millenium that way. For the sake of both countries."
"I understand. . . . One last thing." Tanner paused, afraid of his question.
"What is it?"
"Which of them called you? Which of them told you about the Lassiter depot?"
"They did it together. They all met back here and decided to phone the police."
"Just like that?"
"That's the irony, Mr. Tanner," said Jenkins. "If they had done what they should have done earlier, none of this would have happened. But it was only last night that they got together and told each other the truth."
Saddle Valley was filled with whispers. In the dimly lit Village Pub men gathered in small groups and talked quietly. At the Club, couples sat around the pool and spoke softly of the terrible things which had touched their gracious haven. Strange rumors circulated—the Cardones had taken a long vacation, no one knew where; there was trouble in his firm, some said. Richard Tremayne was drinking more than usual, and his usual was too much. There were other stories about the Tremaynes, too. The maid was no longer there, the house a far cry from what it had been. Virginia's garden was going to seed.
But soon the stories stopped. Saddle Valley was nothing if not resilient. People forgot to ask about the Cardones and the Tremaynes after a while. They never fitted in, really. Their friends were hardly the kind a person wanted at the Club. There simply wasn't the time for much concern. There was so much to do. Saddle Valley, in summer, was glorious. Why shouldn't it be?
Isolated, secure, inviolate.
And John Tanner knew there'd never be another Osterman weekend.
Divide and kill.
Omega had won, after all!