The Shadowers (3 page)

“Sure,” I said. “But with two choices, why do we have to pick the legal one?”

“Aside from the fact that she is hardly the type for an illicit love affair, the lady has a career to think of. Neither she nor the government department for which she works wants a scandal attached to her name. After the job is finished, of course, steps will be taken to dissolve the blessed union at no cost to either party. But it must be a genuine marriage while it lasts.”

I said, “Well, if she can stand it, I guess I can.”

“You will have to,” Mac said dryly. “And you will have to be very diplomatic, in private. The rude and arrogant manner she affected today would seem to indicate that she is frightened.”

“You think she might panic and pull out, sir? I’ll try not to scare her.”

“On the other hand,” he said, “your performance must carry conviction—both performances. There must be no hint of fakery.” He paused. “It’s a Taussig operation, Eric. You know what that means. We’re not up against amateurs. We can’t be too careful.”

I frowned. “Taussig? Hell, I thought the old maestro was through. I thought he’d been put out to grass after that Budapest fiasco in fifty-four—well, to a desk in Moscow.”

“That was our understanding until quite recently, but apparently it was wrong.” Mac glanced at me. “Do you remember the details of what he did in Budapest? I mean, what he almost did in Budapest?”

“Yes, sir,” I said. “I wasn’t in on it myself, but I was briefed on it afterward. We all were. It was the multiple shadow technique. He had been trying to sell it for years as a substitute for open military action. He had them all covered, all the Hungarian politicians who weren’t being properly cooperative. Every doubtful man or woman in public life was shadowed by an agent, trained in homicide who had orders to take his subject out instantly and permanently when the whistle blew. The only trouble was, somebody got nervous and whistled prematurely. Four or five prominent Hungarian citizens died, and there was a big scandal, but the real takeover had to wait for the Russian tanks in fifty-six or -seven, whenever it was.” I grimaced. “You mean he’s managed to talk them into letting him try the same thing again?”

“The evidence says so.”

“In Pensacola, Florida?” I asked. “Why Pensacola, for God’s sake? What’s important enough there to warrant the Budapest treatment?”

Mac said, “The exact nature of the Pensacola target is irrelevant. The important thing is that there is one, and that a number of valuable people, Dr. Mariassy included, are in danger, and that we must find Taussig and stop him before he gets all his agents in a position to act.”

“Sure,” I said. “And just how does Washington plan for me to find him? I gather they don’t have his location pinpointed, or there would be no need to use the female scientist for a decoy.”

“He was seen in Pensacola a few months ago,” Mac said. “That’s what drew our attention here. Unfortunately the operative who recognized him—not one of ours—had other business and let it go with a routine report. Taussig has not been spotted since. You’ll have to work at it from this end.”

“Starting with a marriage ceremony.” I opened the book I was still holding and read the name boldly written on the flyleaf in black ink. “‘Olivia Eloise Mariassy.’ Eloise, for God’s sake. What’s she a doctor of, anyway?”

“Medicine,” Mac said. “Aerospace medicine, to be exact. She is one of a group of government scientists using the facilities of the U.S. Naval School of Aviation Medicine, in Pensacola, and of Eglin Air Force Base up the coast, for a special project. Sometimes, when the missile range at Eglin is inadequate, they call on Cape Kennedy for help. This much you should know. Exactly what the project is, doesn’t concern you.” He made a wry face. “Or so I was instructed to tell the man who was selected for this assignment.”

“Sure,” I said. “We’re supposed to save the country blindfolded, as always. I suppose it’s some kind of a super-retaliation gizmo, or Taussig and his superiors wouldn’t be so interested.”

“Perhaps,” Mac said.

“Aerospace medicine, eh? I’ll look it up.” I snapped the book shut. “Of course, I won’t have much time for research. I’ll be playing chess with my bride.” This got no reaction from Mac and I said, “What makes us think Taussig’s going to take the bait?”

“He may already have taken it,” Mac said. “Not Taussig himself, of course. Presumably he was here only to arrange the details of the local surveillance setup; he probably won’t risk showing himself here again. He’ll control the machinery from a distance as he always does. It’s his strength and his weakness. It’s the reason we’ve never been able to reach him; and at the same time it’s the reason for the failure of the Budapest operation. He was too far away to take charge when a subordinate panicked.” Mac paused. “As far as Pensacola is concerned, we have determined that several of Dr. Mariassy’s colleagues have already developed shadows. We are gambling that she has.”

“Gambling,” I said. “Can’t we confirm before we start?”

“Not without the risk of alerting Taussig’s man, or woman, if there actually is one assigned to Dr. Mariassy, as we hope. I had the investigators withdrawn for that reason.
You
will determine if she is being shadowed, Eric. If she is, you will lead the shadower to a suitably isolated spot, safe from interference by the police or anybody else, and learn from him, or her, the whereabouts of Emil Taussig.”

I listened to the rumble of the big power plant, somewhere far below in the giant ship. “Sure,” I said softly. “Sure. Just like that.”

Mac nodded. “Just like that.”

“It’s pretty crude,” I said. “There are limits to what can be done with the thumbscrews, sir. If we hit a stubborn one, it could get messy.”

Mac’s voice was unrelenting. “If you become queasy, you can call in help. I’ll have an interrogation team standing by.”

“Keep your damn I-team,” I said. “My stomach is as strong as anybody’s. It just seems to me we could be a little more clever about this.”

“Cleverness has been tried,” Mac said. “A great many very clever people have been working hard on this without notable results. That is why we were called in. Remember, cleverness is not our specialty, Eric. Other things are.”

“Yes, sir,” I said; then I frowned. “I thought you said these shadows were recently acquired.”

“In Pensacola, yes.”

“I see,” I said slowly. “Then this local manifestation isn’t the first and only—”

“By no means,” Mac said. “It was merely selected by us as a suitable point for a counterattack. Do you think I would have been authorized to give you such orders if only one small group of scientists was in danger?”

“It’s a big thing, then? Nationwide? Old Taussig is shooting everything in the musket including the ramrod?”

“It is big,” Mac agreed. “It was first diagnosed at a base of the Strategic Air Command up north in... well, never mind where. SAC reported that key flight personnel were being watched by enemy agents whose job might be to keep them from reaching their planes under certain circumstances.”

“You mean,” I said, “if the big bell started ringing?”

“Yes. I regret to say that the report was not, at first, taken very seriously by other government departments. It sounded rather farfetched to anybody who had not heard of Taussig’s Budapest venture; and those SAC people have a recognized persecution complex. They are not really happy unless they think somebody is trying to do them in, one way or another.”

“Paranoia is the word, sir,” I said helpfully.

“Thank you, Eric. Paranoia. Gradually it developed that even allowing for the paranoia of the Strategic Air Command, there was evidence to indicate that something very unpleasant was being planned on a very large scale. One cell was discovered in Washington, D.C. You can imagine the furor this caused, behind tight security, of course. Then Taussig himself was spotted in the country, and somebody did remember Budapest, and the pieces fell into place. Cells are now known or suspected as far apart as San Diego, California, and a certain little-known government activity in Maine. We do not know how many there are. We do not know who is scheduled to die and who is not. This creates a certain amount of panic among various important people who can bravely face the possibility of having millions of people killed by nuclear weapons.”

I said, “I know. It’s always a little different when it’s a man with a gun or knife who’s hunting just you.”

“As a result,” Mac said, “in certain quarters Emil Taussig is no longer looked upon as merely a small, white-haired, Jewish gentleman with an ingenious mind; he is regarded as the devil himself. It is our job to exorcise him. We do not know many of the details of his operation. We do not know if his effort is an independent one, or if there will be concurrent action from overseas to take advantage of the confusion he hopes to create. We do not know,” Mac said, “and as far as you are concerned we do not care. Information is the business of other agencies. The only information in which you are interested is: Where is Emil Taussig?”

“Yes, sir,” I said.

“You will find him,” Mac said, “using any means necessary. When you have found him, you will kill him. Any questions?”

“No, sir,” I said. I mean, he’d made it pretty clear.

The cocktail lounge of the Montclair Hotel featured a large circular bar built to resemble, vaguely, a circus carousel complete with canopy. For this reason, I guess, it was known as the Carnival Room. All visible seats under the canopy were occupied when I came in, which was fine. It made my choosing a table at the side of the room seem natural, whereas otherwise somebody might have wondered why a lone man would go off in a dark corner by himself instead of sitting at the bar. Somebody might even have wondered later, in the light of developments, if the guy hadn’t been expecting company right along.

A waiter won my heart by unhesitatingly supplying a Martini complete with olive, instead of trying to sell me on the virtues of onions, lemon peels, and other garbage. Since the door and who came through it was supposed to hold no interest for me, I concentrated my attention on the assortment of posteriors lined up around the bar. With the evidence before me, I came to the conclusion that it takes a pretty good rump to appear well on a small stool. One female specimen in pink satin, young and unrestrained, was quite intriguing as behinds go, but the rest were no treat to the eye.

I took a drink to celebrate my return to civilian life. Getting off the ship had involved a ride in an old prop trainer that sounded like a bucket of bolts, from the cockpit of which the carrier’s three-hundred-yard flight deck had suddenly looked very short. Catapults aren’t used to get the propeller jobs airborne. They’re supposed to be able to make it on their own, but there had been a moment or two, running out of deck with nothing but ocean left ahead, when I’d wondered if somebody hadn’t miscalculated badly.

Braithwaite had lifted us off nicely, however, and set us down on a military field somewhere inland. There I’d inspected some interesting and moderately confidential facilities to make my officer act look good if anybody bothered to trace me this far. Then a car had run us into Pensacola where I changed back into slacks and sports coat, leaving my military identity in the empty apartment with my lieutenant commander’s uniform. We’d come roaring back along the beaches in Braithwaite’s low-slung Healey, reaching New Orleans a little after dusk.

It had been a complicated damn performance, worthy of the old OSS and similar glamorous organizations. If it had accomplished nothing else, I decided, it had made some service people feel they’d been in touch with great matters of international intrigue. Maybe that was the idea. I’d got out of the car a few blocks from the hotel.

“Just walk straight ahead, sir,” Braithwaite said. “You’ll see it on your left. You can’t miss it.”

“Sure,” I said.

“I’m not supposed to ask questions, I know,” he said. “But... Ah, hell. Good luck, sir.” He held out his hand. It was the first sign of humanity that had peeked through the Naval Academy polish.

I shook his hand and looked down at him for a moment. The sports car in which he sat wasn’t much more than knee high. I said, “If you’re interested in more of the same, it can probably be arranged on a permanent basis. I’m just passing the word as it was given to me. Personally I’d stick to the Navy if I were you. But you’re entitled to know somebody liked the way you handled this.”

“Thank you, sir.” It was hard to tell in the dark, but I thought his boyish face flushed a little with pleasure. “As for the offer...”

“Don’t kid yourself it’s all a matter of fancy countersigns and fast driving,” I said. “And don’t waste your answer on me. The recruiting office...” I told him the number in Washington to call, and gave him a kind of salute. “Happy landings, as we birdmen say.”’

Thinking of this now, I felt old and cynical. To cheer myself, I looked for the neat little fanny in pink, but it was gone. Presently I spotted the tight, shiny dress some twenty degrees farther along the curving bar than it had been. My first thought was that the kid had moved to another stool. Then I realized that the great circular contraption, occupying the whole center of the room, was actually rotating like a real merry-go-round, but much more slowly.

I’d been briefed on this earlier, of course, but it had slipped my memory for a moment. Being reminded of it, and seeing it in action, came as kind of a shock, particularly since it was something I wasn’t supposed to forget. It was part of our plan. At the same time I became aware that a woman was being seated at the table to my left, only a few feet down the upholstered bench that ran along the wall.

“Waiter,” I said, carefully ignoring her, “waiter, either I’m drunk on one Martini or that thing is moving.”

There was a quick laugh from the woman who’d just sat down. “It certainly is!” Olivia Mariassy said. “What a dreadful thing to put in a bar! I thought I was intoxicated, too, when I came in here this afternoon and saw it.”

This was the approach that had been decided on. I guess Hollywood would have said we were meeting cute. The words were right, but she wasn’t the greatest actress in the world, and I don’t suppose she’d ever picked up— or been picked up by—a man in a bar before. The laugh was strained and the voice was forced. It wasn’t good.