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 EDITORIAL ...

· There aren't too many thrills that

equal that of giving birth to a new
magazine... especially a new magazine.
that is also the start of a new genre! We
are in this fortunate position-
deliberately- because we, the
publishers and editors of ESPION�GE,
love spy stories ... can't get enough of
them. And can) always fmd the time to
read a novel- almost their only
presentation to date! .
We love mystery I detective and
science fiction stories as well, and
therefore you will occasionally find a
spy/sci fi (couldn't resist the rhyme!) or
a spy /mystery story mixed in among
the pure-bred espiqnage pieces that
we'll be presenting to you six times a
year (to start). .
We hope that you love spy stories.
And we hope that you'll love
ESPIONAGE Magazine, too.

r: -- .. xr:=:::x
., r:ac::=:>c"t a<r:=:::x.,
December 1984

In this Issue •••

Page 6 Time to Kill

by Tony Wilmot

Page 16 The Queen & King

by Isaac Aslmov

Page ·2.4 The President's. Brain Is Missing

by Ron Goulart

/"'
Page 39 The Purist I

by Edward Wellen

· Page 48 The Hurrl�ane Courier

by P.E. Halycon

Page 58 The Foreign Minister's Brother

by Stuart Symons

·.Page 69 The Commissar

by Jack Ritchie

Page 78 Historically Spying •••

by Joe Lewis

Page 81 A Boy and His Camera

by Jery Tillotson
 1:il)))C�
ct1�
c�·ctll1:c�Il1:S
Volume 1, Number 1

Breakfast at The Kawnbawza Page 92

by lsak �omun

About Books ••• Page 96

a review

The Hatchtree Assignment Page100

by Edward D. Hoch

The Knack . Page115

·by Percy· Spurlark Parker

The Intelligence Process Page118

by Ernest Volkman

·Winds of Change Page128

by John Lutz

A Cameo Disappearance Page1 34

by E. Brooks Peters

You Can't Fool A Wife , Page 152

by Ardath Mayhar

Game Pages Page158

Cover art by David Wool

 ou've got to kill. In cold and the tourists who herded past,
blood. Within 24 hours. The eyes glazed with fatigue and
very thought of it makes the excitement. .
adrenalin burn through your veins As a waiter set down their drinks,
like acid. There's no turning back; Mark Girland was saying, "I got out
it's what you're paid to do, part of of uniform the moment the war in
the job.'/'\political expediency" was Vietnam ended. And from Army In­
the cliche Control selected from its telligence I got into this racket." He
library of euphemisms.Put that way grinned. "Out of the frying pan into
it didn't seem so bad. But now the the fire."
day of execution is almost here.And Steve Dunning had been listening
whatever word you - they - use, to Girland with increasing irritation.
it's still murder ... "The cream of America's youth got
The two men and the girl were sjt­ caught up in Vietnam, pal. Like you,
ting outside a cafe in a fashionable I was one of them. But we were
part of the city's Western Sector. The lucky; a lot of guys never came
afternoon sun was hot and the wide back. It's over, so can it, will you."
pavements shimmered. At a nearby Mark Girland smiled. "Hit a raw
table, two hausfraus were spooning nerve did I? Sorry. Just making con­
schlagober gateau into their fleshy versation." He feigned indifference
mouths, oblivious to the traffic's roar but inwardly he was gloating;

6 Espionage

Illustration by Bruce Baker

c • ' • c • ' a

annoy ing D unning was odd ly Lighting a cigarette, Mark G irland

satisfying. said casual ly, "You both know why
N ad i ne K u rtz a l l owed h e r I've been sent here, of course."
thoughts to wander. Men who Steve downed his whiskey; he
reminisced about war-time ex­ was l i king the man less by the sec­
periences bored her. She was con­ ond. 'We've heard rumors."
·
cerned only with the present. The · Mark G i rland fol lowed a passing
past cou ldn't be altered, . so dwell ing girl with his eyes, whistl ing softly.
on it was futi le. But she knew Steve "The frau Ieins are everyth ing they're
expected her to show some interest reputed to be, eh?" He winked at
in Mark G i rland, so she shrugged, Steve. "No need to turn the bedroom
saying, ''Vietnam doesn't mean very . l ight off."
mu.ch to me. I was just leaving "Get to the point," Nadine said
school when it ended ." testi ly.
"You were l utky," Mark G i rland · "Patience, my dear. There's no
went on. "It m ust rate as one of the rush. We have all day." Mark
costl iest wars ever. Over a m i l l ion (lirland drew on his cigarette, ex­
people k i l led . . . cost the U . S . haled luxuriously; a man who knew
·government 2 8 m i l l ion dol lars a he held all the h igh cards. "Control
day . . . and what did it prove?" is worried. They don't l i ke weak
As G i rland developed his theme, l inks. They make them nervous. But,
Steve stud ied Nad ine's flawless . that's only reasonable, isn't it? They
features. A few freckles on her can't afford to take chances."
forehead marred an ·otherw ise "And you," Steve said, "have been
perfect skin; yet the i r presence sent to find out which of us is a weak
added to her beauty. Eyes bl ue, l ink. We are the prime suspects after
flecked with grey and wide-set; a l l ."
mouth smal l but sensuous; shortish "I wou ldn't put it as strongly as
blond hair with a soft fi l my qual ity that."
in sunl ight. Age? Late twenties, he "Oh ? , How. wou ld you put it?"
guessed . . Nadine broke in gently. 'What Mr.
He was becoming involved. He G i rland means, Steve, is that he j ust
knew it, she knew it. It was wants to reassure h i mself we can be
dangerous to form attach ments in trusted. Isn't that so, Mr. · G i rland?"
h i s business. It was one of the car­ . "Why sure. There's no need to get
d inal sins of Contro l . After his mar­ paranoid, Steve. Like the lady says
riage had broken up, Steve thought it's . . . "
emotional involvement cou ldn't "Who's gettfng paranoid!" Steve
happen again: He simply wou ldn't
·
cut in. He cursed h i mself the mo­
let it. But he had. ment he uttered the words. ld ioti-

8 Espionage
' b ' b ' a s •

cal ly, he felt h i mself coloring under add ress." He handed Steve a piece
Mark G i rland's amused gaze. H i s of paper, nodded, and . walked off
stomach began to flutter; fear had qu ickly, m ingl ing with the crowds.
always affected h i m that way. Who "He knows about us." Steve began
was the weak l ink if not h i mself? to fidget with h i s cigarette l ighter,
He'd broken the cardinal rule by get­ resisting the u rge to l i ght up again.
ting emotional ly involved with He'd managed to cut h i s smoking to
Nadine. two packs a day. Then, aware
It was too late for wishing it hadn't Nadine was disapproving of his ner­
happened. In any case, he was glad vousness, he sli pped · the l ighter in
it had. It showed he was sti l l human, his pocket. She knows a lot about
not j ust a series of facts on a com-. me, he thought, but not everyth ing.
puter print-out. There were some th ings he'd never
''The Keitel job," Steve asked told anybody. J ust as there were
presently. "Is it off? Control has been th ings she probably hadn't told h im .
very silent on that score lately." Why, for one, had she chosen to
"On the contrary," Mark G i rland work for Control instead of marry­
said, "it's very much on. But I sha l l ing and having kids? W ith her loo ks
b e com ing along for the ride, okay?" she could have had her pick. What
"Do we have a choice?" motivated a woman l i ke Nadine to
Mark G i rland smi led, signal led to risk her neck in counter-espionage?
the waiter. "Let's have another drink. "I said he knows about us."
To the success of the Keitel job." "So?"
As she si pped her d rink, Nadine "So what do we do about h i m ?"
scrutin ized Mark G irland's rugged "Noth ing." She stubbed out her
face. There was a h int of cruelty in cigarette. "He doesn't have any
the eyes. What was the flaw in h i s proof. Control sent h i m to get it. So
character - drink, women, money? it's best if we don't stay together for
Everyone had an Achi l les' heel, even a whi le."
Control's top fieldman. And what "Nad ine . . . " Steve reached for
had he meant by "weak l ink"? Her her hand.
affa ir with Steve? Or someth ing
·
"It's j ust as hard for me, Steve.
more? Bel ieve me, it's the best way."
"We have 13 hours left," Steve "How long m ust we . . . ?" Steve
said, checking h i s watch. "Time to tai led off m iserably, trying not to
'
move." visual ize Nadine's hair splayed on
Mark G i rland settled the bi l l . "My the pil low beside h i m, trying to
place," he said, as they strol led forget the way her fingers trickled
toward the next i nte rsect i on . over h i s body . . .
"Tonight. E ight o'clock. Here's the "I don't know. Not long. J ust unti l

Esp ionage 9
 ' • ' • ' •
, I can work something out." was j ust 7:20 pm. Nadine had said
Steve gave her a long hard look, she would be at that number unti l
sensing what was going through her 8 pm. His h unch had been right,
m ind. "Liquidate h i m ? We'd never
·
something bad gone wrong with the
get away with it." Keitel job.
'We m ight. If we think it th rough Steve took a taxi to Mark G i rland's
properly. ·You want us to be add ress, a small commercial hotel
together, don't you?" near die rai lway term inal, unpreten­
"Of course I do. But . . . " tious but comfortable (he'd stayed.
"Then there's no alternative." there once with Nad ine). G i rland
was ·. registered as M.G. G i rland,

T
en hours to zero. You're technical salesman, Ansco Plastics,
beginning to wonder if you Detroit. Wel l, it made a change from
have the guts to kill in cold automobi les.
blood. You've killed before, but The room was number 1 8 on the
never like this; never someone you th i rd floor. He cou ld hear m uffled
cared about ... voices inside . . The voices stopped
Dayl ight had faded . Steve was in when he pressed the bel l .
Klaus' bar (he and Nad ine had had Mark G i rland beckoned h i m in­
their fi rst drink together there, so he side, and Steve stepped into the
had a nostalgic affection for the room, stopping abruptly when he
place). He d ialed the number saw Nadine on the couch, pale and
Nadine had given h i m, l istening to smoking nervously. Was it h i s i m­
it ring i mpotently at the other end. agination or was ·She avoiding h i s
He dru mrned h i s fingers on the eye? Questions scurried around h is
window of the telephone booth. He m ind l i ke frightened ·rats. Why·
wanted to hear her voice, talk to her, hadn't she phoned h i m to let h i m
tel l her about h i s premonition. The know she was going · straight to
Keitel business stank. More so now G i rland's hote l ?
that Mark G i rland had been sent in M a rk G i rland s a i d , "Nad ine
as watchdog. cou ldn't let you know, Steve. Her
A voice answered "Census office" phone's being tapped." If they were
j ust as he was about to ring off. It tapping her phone they must also be
was the cover for Control . "Miss tapping h is.
'
Kurtz please," he said. "I think the KG B are on to · us,
"I'm sorry. Miss Kurtz has left." Steve." Nervous tension made
"I see. Has she been gone long?" Nadine's voice husky. A fami l iar
"About an hour. Is there a tightening came into Steve's th roat
message?" as he glanced at her stockingclad
"No, thanks." Steve hung up. It legs; danger always heightened h i s

10 Esp ionage
desire for her. execution, and there's no margin for
"I managed to intercept a coded error. No reprieve for failure. I'm tell­
message from the Eastern Sector," ing you, Dunning, our l ives won't be
Nad ine said. "Keitel's going through worth the proverbial nickel if we
the Wal l earl ier than we thought. bungle this."
And he'll be taken th rough in an ar­ Mark G i rland had been assem­
mored van." bl ing a ·rifle with a telescopic sight.
''That's not what we were told He handed it to Steve, smi l ing when
when we planned th is operation," Steve gasped in adm i ration as he
Steve said. "It's off then. Bul lets can't tried it for balance. He raised it to
penetrate armor plating." fi ring position, pleased at the way it
Nadine was on her feet. 'We can fitted comfortably into h is shou lder.
sti I I do it." He adj usted the s ight unti l it
"An armored van, Nad ine? How, bisected a point between Mark
for God's sake?" G i rland's eyes. The firing pin clicked
"That's your problem," Mark as he squeezed the tdgger.
G i rland said. ''You're a trained Mark G i rland s m i led th inly.
marksman. Neither Nadine nor I can "Made in Belgium. Holds twelve
hand le a precision rifle l i ke you can. shel ls. Can be set to single or
Control expects us to carry out the automatic. The sights are accurate to
 ' a ' a ' a ' 1 G a

a thousandth of an inch, so noth ing Nadine handled the Porsche cool­

should go wrong. Keitel is a double ly and expertly. A professional to her
. agent. But the Russians have turned fingertips, �teve thought, as he look­
h i m . We want h i m dead before the ed at her profi le i l lum inated by pass­
KG B can get him into the Eastern ing street lights. He'd often asked her
Sector. Keitel knows too much how she had been recru ited by Con­
about CIA operations in Europe. Do
·
trol; she had always evaded the
I· make myself clear?" question.
"Perfectly." She lived a strange sort of ex­
"Right. I t's time we were moving. istence. That was perhaps an inap­
You, too, Nadine." propriate word, he reflected, but it
Steve hesitated, looking from certainly fit. Unmarried, devasta­
Nad ine to Mark G i rland. Suddenly tingly attractive, secretive; her entire
he didn't want her along when he being seemed to be an extension of
- did what he had to do. "Nadine stays Control. Her work obsessed her.
here." Everyth ing outside of work - eat­
"No can do," Mark G i rland said. ing, drinking, sleeping, making
"She has her orders, j ust l ike you and love - involved her intensely at the
me." moment it was happening; then,
-'We can manage, G i rland." Steve when it was over, Control re­
tried not to sound too anxious. possessed her, l i ke some alter ego.
"Lookout-man and trigger-man. We Usual ly a woman had to be
don't need a th i rd operative along." wooed with candlelight dinner, soft
Nadine took Steve's .arm. "He's music, romantic surround ings, but
right, Steve. I have my orders. I'm
·
not Nadine. On the contrary, her ap­
com ing, too." proach had taken h i m by surprise.
Steve nodded. Nadine was a pro­ Soon after h i s recru itment to Con­
fessional; nothing he could say trol's Berl in network, he had been
would change her m ind. assigned to the decoding office. He
had worked with Nad ine for several

S
o now it's closer, less than an days before she even vol unteered ·

hour away.Sure you're scared; her name.

it's only natural; you can even "It's Nadine," she had said, not
taste the fear. You've never had to raising her eyes from her work, "but
kill in cold blood before ...but don't cal l ·me anyth ing but Miss
there's . always. a first time for Kurtz here."
everything.And there's no room for "Does that mean," he'd said, "I can
sentiment. You were a fool to let call you Nadine . . . elsewhere?"
yourself get involved.That makes it "It m ight."
so much harder to do ... "And where is 'elsewhere'?"

12 Esp ionage
 ' a ' a

"I' l l let you know." finished the meal, he was hooked.

That had been the entire conver­ He helped clean up . . . then they
sation. She had expressed no further sat in front of t�e i m itation-logs gas
interest in h i m for a week. At the fi re, talking about the i r c h i ldhoods,
time, he was sweating over a new previous jobs, ·previous relation­
code the Russians were using. He ships. Only when he touched on her
had tried so many combinations he reasons for joining Control d id she
was seeing double. Suddenly, he show annoyance.
was aware of warm breath on h i s "What a re yours ?" s h e had
neck, and a tantalizing perfume that countered. "A Reds under the bed
reminded h i m vaguely of jasm ine; com p l ex, McCarthy sty le? · or
" F i rst ru le of deci phering," she something more idealistic?"
said: "Don't let it break you before Then, as if in apology, she had
you break it." smi led disarm ingly and kissed h im.
He had found h imself looking u p They were lovers soon after.
into h e r eyes, experiencing the fi rst "Hey, Steve, you awake?" Mark
of those soon to be fam i l iar exciting G i rl. and's voice j o l ted Steve's
sensations at the back of the t.hroat; thoughts back to the present; he had
no other woman had had that effect almost forgotten where they were
on h i m in a long time. going1 what he had to do. ''You
''You asked about 'elsewhere', " haven't said a word since we left the
s h e sa i d . "My p l ace. H o m e hotel. You feel okay?"
cooking." "I'm not getting cold feet if that's
She directed h i m to a suburb in an what you mean. " Steve tried to relax.
· unfash ionable district and told h i m Why let h im self get ri led by th is
to park outside a small apartment man?Who was he anyway?A Con­
complex. Control owned the apart­ trol snooper. Wel l, he had taken
ments, she explained, and she had care of snoopers before. He'd take
done wel l to get one, as there was care of th is one, too, if need be.
a waiting l i st. He m ight wel l be "Someth ing's bothering you, Mr.
a l located one h i mself, eventual ly. D unning," Nad ine said.
He thought at fi rst that she was Steve reacted to her formal ad­
kidd ing, but she was absol utely d ress, then remembered what they
serious. Her total comm itment to had agreed. ''You m ust be psych ic,
Control was both adm i rable and a M iss Kurtz," he said, with a touch of
l i ttle sad. He hoped he m ight redress i rony. 'What bothers me is . . . if the
the balance. KG B are on to us, aren't we sticking
Dinner was a simple affai r of our necks out - going after Kei tel,
chicken salad, white wine, fru it and I mean? We'// be the sitting ducks."
c ream . Even before they had ''You're m issing the point," Mark

Espionage 13
 c a

G i rland said. "The Ruskies don't unlocked. Steve shivered as he

know Miss Ku rtz has broken their stepped i n s ide. "What is t h i s
code, so the element of surprise is place - a gigantic refrigerator? A
sti l l with us." guy cou ld freeze to death i n here."
Steve fel l quiet. Nadine seemed to He real ized he was talking too
be a stranger . . . j ust a� if she had much, a sure sign his nerves were
never shared h i s bed. A vague on edge.
unease made h i m reach for a Mark G i rland began to c l i m b a
cigarette. As though sensing his dis­ fl ight of sta i rs.
quiet, her thigh pressed against h is; Steve reached for Nadine's hand.
it was her way of saying "Don't She made as if to pu l l away, then
worry." squeezed his hand. The gesture
"The coded message," Nadine raised h i s spi rits.
said, "told us the change of rendez­

T
vous. Keitel is in a no longer used he time has arrived ...the
church, near a square which is moment of truth ...and you
deserted at n ight. The armored .van know what you must do. But
wi l l pick h i m up there. Ton ight." can you do it? Suddenly you're not
"And across the square from the sure anymore. Suddenly you want
church is a flat-topped warehouse," answers to questions that have no
Mark G i rland added. "That's where answers. And what about reasons?
we'l l be wai ting." You're doing it because Control says
Steve wet h i s l i ps. Why hadn't he you must ...but is that a reason, a
been told all th is earl ier? He had the real reason? Enough of a reason?
u ncomfortable feeling that he was The stai rs led to a skylight. Once
an outsider, that G i rland and Nadine on the roof, Steve buttoned his coat;
shared a secret from which he was he couldn't risk letting the cold i m­
excl uded. They can afford to be pai r h i s aim.
calm, he thought. It's not their finger A concrete parapet, about two feet
on the trigger. I'm the guy who has h i gh, surrounded the rooftop. At i n­
to do the ki l l i ng. tervals were holes for d rainage
For the rest of the journey, nobody pi pes.
spoke. Nad ine turned into an al ley Steve knelt beside one and slid the
at the rear of the warehouse and rifle barrel through. W i th the
sw i tched off the e n g i n e . The telescopic viewfinder, he cou ld see
Porsche coasted to a halt. As they every deta i l of the church opposite.
got out, their breath formed ghostly The fi rst shot would have to be fatal:
shapes on the n ight air. Steve slung there wou ld be no opportun ity for
the rifle-case over h i s shou lder. a second. Keitel's body would be ex­
A small steel door had been left posed for three, fou r, maybe five

14 Espionage:
' • ' a ' • c a

seconcJs. Not m uch ti me. B ut didn't. The i mpact of the bul let l ifted
enough. He released the safety Steve six inches off the ground.
catch. He was relaxed, confident.

N
Only the distant rumble of the ow you're an assassin ...
city's night traffic broke the s i l ence. now you know what it's like
Nobody spoke. to kill someone in cold
Mark G irland fingered the .38 blood, what Control calls a "political
revolver in his pocket. Somehow he expediency." Easy for them. They
cou ldn't bring h imself to trust Steve aren't involved. How could they
Dunning. A man who al lowed h im­ even begin to imagine what it's like
self to get emotional ly involved, as to shoot the only man you've ever
Steve had, was vulnerable, was not wanted ...
to be rel ied upon. Steve was the

N
weak l i nk. j ust how weak remained u m bness evaporated from
to be seen. h is anesthetized brain and
"There's the van." Nadine's voice faces swam before h i s eyes
cut the silence l i ke a striking match. l i ke reflections in a pool. The voice
Steve snaked his forefinger round came as though from the far end of
the trigger, checked h i s breathing, a long dark tunne l .
-focused the rifle's sight. "You're going to pu l l th rough,
The church door opened. Three Steve. A rib deflected the bu l let."
men emerged. One was short and Through the fog, Steve recognized
stocky. Keitel. The man the West the chief of Control. "Keitel can't
cou l d not perm it to tel l what he ' harm the West; he's dead, thanks to
knew. The man Steve had been you. Mark G i rland, too, I'm sorry to
assigned tb ki l l . say."
Steve held h i s breath as the rifle­ Steve heard h imself ask after
sight bisected Keitel's chest, then Nad ine.
squeezed the trigger. He saw Keitel "The Kl,lrtz woman? She was a
drop to the ground. double agent. When she thought
Then the rooftop exploded with she'd k i l led you, she tu rned the gun
gunshots from beh ind. on herself. It was her only way out.
Mark G irland pitched forward; the The KG B had ordered her to k i l l you
·oack of h i s head had been blasted days ago - to prevent you getting to
away. Keitel. B ut she . delayed. And that
Steve th rew h i mself sideways, in­ was her fatal m istake. j ust why she
stinctively swinging the rifle into fir­ delayed is sti l l something of a
ing position. Nadine was standing mystery."
eight feet away, gun in hand . From It was no mystery to Steve. He
that range she cou ldn't m iss. She knew why . . . -+

Espionage 15
 TlltQutto
iiiHIIiiJ§
By Isaac
Asimov

16 Espiona
ge

Illustratio
n by Robe
n Spike
 ennings was making the august library of the

J Union Club a hideous sounding-board for a

detailed and incredibly boring description of a
bridge game he had played the evening before.
I knew him to be a pathetic slave of the game, but
'till now he had had the good taste to avoid inflict­
ing his madness on the rest of us .
Not that Griswold minded. As long as he had his
whiskey and soda in his vise-like grip, and could
sleep, snoring softly in his winged armchair, he was
content . Baranof had the gift of seeming to listen
without actually involving his ear-drums. That left
me as the sole sufferer.
''Actually," I said, at last, "I think bridge is a game .,
that is of interest only to mental defectives."
Jennings grinned and said, "Then how is it you
don't play it?" (That was just the sort of stupid
remark I would expect of him. He knew what I
meant .)
''As a matter of fact," he went on, "bridge calls
for the exercise of memory, for the keen analysis of
probabilities, and for a careful study of human
psychology. Less cruel and bloody than poker, it is
less rarefied and anemic than chess."
"Shouldn't you have arranged for the sound of soft
violins as accompaniment? " I asked.
Baranof said, "If you two start shouting, Griswold
will come to and claim he once solved a case as a
result of his knowledge of bridge."
Griswold's eyes shot open as though there were
strings attached and someone had pulled them. "It
so happens," he said, and paused to sip delicately
at his drink, "that I did."
Baranof groaned theatrically. "I knew it ."
Griswold said, "It wasn't exactly bridge."
"But you 'll tell us anyway, won't you,"I said.

ou suppose correctly [said Griswold]. This

Y happened at a time when relations with a

certain other power were at a low point . And
Espionage 17
 you needn't shout out your guesses at the identity
of the power, for that is a matter of no consequence
to my tale. Besides, I am sworn to confidentiality,
so I'll simply refer to the other power as Eastland.
T here was little we and they could agree on but
among the little was the adulation of a certain pair
of movie stars, who were married to each other and
who were widely known as the King and Queen of
the films. And don't bother telling me who they are,
for their identity is of no consequence either. I'll call
them Oscar and Emmy because neither of them had
won either. Their fame did not arise from purely pro­
fessional expertise.
They had been invited by the Eastlanders to visit
some of their cities, and they were willing to do so.
Emmy, in fact, was eager. But; of course, the Depart­
ment insisted on �eing involved. Once they had got­
ten rid of me, you see, they had no one left who
could be relied on to insist on some measure of
sanity in their acts, and they were deliriously happy
as a result - and usually insane, of course.
What they wanted was to have the two film stars
deliver a strip of microfilm to a certain minor
Eastlander official, one who could be relied on, it
was felt, to get it to certain dissidents in the coun­
try. It would (the Department thought) exacerbate
the intern<!-1 stresses in Eastland, which would be a
·

Good Thing.
Once the matter came to my attention, I pointed
out quietly that it was mad to entrust something of
this sort to an amateur when. professionals would
have found the matter difficult enough. Second, it
was foolish to endanger hoped-for cultural exchange
programs. Third, it was wrong to risk having
American idols taken into custody as spies.
The answer was that it was just a matter of
mischief-making and did not involve American
security, so the risk was not great . Second, Eastland
did the same with people they sent here. Third, the
feeling was that Eastland would not risk world com-

18 Espionage
 motion by making trouble for people who were idols
of the world and not merely of the United States.
I won't say there wasn't sQ_mething to the Depart­
ment's self-justifications, but they were wrong,
anyway. For one thing, the precious pair entrusted
with the task were not only amateurs, they were film
stars, which meant melodramatic amateurs. They
went to a great deal of trouble to work out a par­
ticularly ridiculous scheme for transferring the in­
formation. It was Emmy's idea, actually. Of the two,
. she was the more hare-brained.
It was her notion to have a quantity of cookies
made, with the microfilm buried in one of them.
Naturally, the guilty cookie would be obscurely, but
unmistakeably, marked for sure identification. The
person for whom the ffiicrofllm was intended would
be at a party hosted by our pair of America's
sweethearts, and, amid lavish and distracting
ceremonies, the correct cookie would be passed
over.
The number of ways in which this could go wrong
was .enormous and, of course, it did go wrong .
E�y had,a number of cookies wrapped, super­
vising the process with her very own sharp eyes and
shrill voice, and carefully saw to it that the correct
cookie (known to her alone) was wrapped in a dif­
ferent color. She placed it on the plate with other
cookies in such a way that it was totally unobtrusive,
but she knew where it was. She kept the plate out
'
of casual reach of anyone else.
When the person she was waiting for arrived, and
had identified himself with the appropriate inane
remark, she whipped out the plate of cookies; and
said, "I hope you like cookies, sir?"
"If you have made them yourself, madam," he said
gallantly, in heavily-accented English, "I would
prefer them to ambrosia." Sickening, but that was
what he was supposed to say and it made it clear
that he understood the significance of the cookie.
"I made these myself, indeed," said Emmy bright-

Espionage 19
 ly. "Please help yourself."
He took several and, while he did so, she was sup­
posed to seize upon the cookie and give it to him
very casually. Its distinctive wrapping would keep
him from mistaking it later, after he had put it, along
with two or three innocent cookies, into his pocket.
I say that Emmy was supposed to seize upon the
cookie, but she never did. The cookie simply wasn't
there.
She scrabbled through the cookies on the plate
with increasing agitation, looked on and under the
table, began to pass from agitation to frenzy, and
noticed that she was attracting amazed attention. She
w:as trouper enough to give the waiting (and
stunned) official something else, along with silvery
laughter, and to maintain a brave front for the r�st
·

of the evening .
The cookie, however, was irretrievably gone and,
when the evening was over, she had a raging
headache (genuine) and then developed a serious at­
tack of the flu (not so genuine) which forced her,
and Oscar too, of course, to cut short their tour and
return home. Eastland officials, whose politeness
had now become freezingly formal, waved good-bye
·
vigorously.
When our sweethearts of the screen returned,
they reported angrily and defensively to the Depart­
ment , which cleared its collective throat and felt
foolish.
Emmy was naturally questioned rather closely, and
it quickly became clear that the plate had not been
under continuous surveillance. Anyone could have
meddled with it. The hotel staff was in and out,
cooks, waiters, and so on. Nor might it have been
a matter of actual suspicion of wrong-doing. The
microfilm had been put into something edible, after
all, and the cookie might merely have been eaten
and the microfilm casually swallowed, or possibly,
spat out .
The Department , therefore, dismissed it as a

20 Espionage
regrettable accident .
But then, it appeared that several Eastland
dissidents were questioned ra:ther vigorously, and
the minor official who was to receive the microfilm
received a quick (and secret) trial and was sent to
prison. Clearly, the cookie had not been casually
eaten, but had been intercepted by the Eastlanders
and the microfilm had been retrieved .
How was that possible? How had Eastland in­
telligence known about the cookie?
And then something else happened. We had an
agent in Eastland who had infiltrated their in­
telligence apparatus and he managed to get us a
message. It wasn't much of a message - one sym­
bol and two letters. Nothing more. (Poor fellow. He
died in harness not long after.) The message was:
... Q, K"
Old Harrison came to me with it at last. As they
all did, he looked worried when he came in, look­
ing this way and that. No one from the Department
was supposed to come and consult me. I was off­
limits. They all did, of course, once they were suffi­
ciently desperate.
I said, "You weren't followed? "
He said, "Come, Griswold, I know you weren't
treated well, but I had nothing to do with it ."
"So now you want my help and if anything comes
of it, you get all the credit ."
"Shall we put it this way, Griswold? Your coun­
try wants your help? "
I snorted politely. "Well, tell me what it's all
about ? "
H e did. H e told m e the story and showed m e the
message. "But what does the message mean?" he
asked plaintively.
I said, "I presume that what it says is 'The Queen
and King of Hearts.' That's what it would mean in
a bridge column."
"Yes, yes, of course. We saw that at once. But what
does that mean?"

Espionage _ 21
 "Since you told me the story of the movie couple
and that stupid cookie of theirs, I suppose you think
it must refer to them."
"We're sure of it. That's what Oscar and Ernrny
are always called in the film magazines. But what
is the message referring to them about?" asked
Harrison.
"I suppose that the logical first guess is that our
agent might be trying to tell you that your precious
pair tipped off the Eastlanders for some reason and
that the whole business of the lost cookie is a
charade designed to hide their treason ."
"We can't believe that . Why on earth should they
be willing to betray their country? They certainly
weren't tortured into it, and they couldn't be bribed
into it . They 've got all the money and fame and
adulation anyone could want."
"What about ideological conviction? "
Harrison looked astonished. "Corne, Griswold,
you can't be serious. Neither one could raise an
ideological drop of sweat on Washington's hottest
day. They're a pair of ernptyheads."
"Are you sure? It's not so difficult to play dumb."
He shook his head, "Please. We've had occasion
to investigate them before. We have plenty of
evidence of their acting ability, and they just don't
have it in them to play that dumb that well.
"What else can we find in that message? Our man
is damned capable, and he wouldn't send this if it
didn't mean something and if he didn't think we
could understand it ."
"Maybe you didn't get the whole message? Maybe
this is a fragment and is incomprehensible for that
reason."
" It 's the whole message. We're sure."
So I looked at it again - • Q, K.
"Is that the way it carne in? Exactly?"
"Yes, of course. Why ? "
"Because the Q and K are i n the wrong order. lt
should be K, Q. Cards are always listed in order of

22 Espionage
decreasing value: Ace, King, Queen, Jack, ten, and
so on down to two.' '
"Emmy's the dominant one of the pair. Naturally,
he'd refer to her first ."
"Even though they're always referred to by their
fans as 'the King and Queen of Hearts,' and not as
the Queen and King of Hearts?"
"Even so."
I shook my head, stared at the message and said,
"I presume that the sweethearts didn't travel alone,
but had an entourage."
"Of course."
·�nd among them there must be a particularly
trusted underling who's always with them; manag­
ing and running things for them.''
"Yes, there's a man named Francis Biddeford who
has been with the two of them since they got mar­
ried. He serves as their agent and thei-r general
factotum.''
"Good! Take my advice and turn him inside out .
He'd know everything they were doing, and would
have every opportunity to take the cookie and
deliver it, out of ideological conviction, perhaps.
This message says he's a traitor." .
Harrison stared at it unbelievingly. "Where?"
I explained, and he said, " I can't believe it."
But, out of desperation, he advanced the sugges-
ti<;>n to the Department. Biddeford was faced with
a relentless investigation and, under questioning, he
broke down. As I had suspected, Harrison got the
credit . And there you have it .
"Have what ?" said Jennings, violently. "The
message doesn't say anything but the King and
Queen of Hearts.' '

just for fun, why not try to interpret this message

yourself Then, turn to page 160 and compare your
interpretation with Griswold's.

E spionage 23
 The
PRESIDENT'S
BRAIN IS
MISSING
by Ron Goulart

T
he dying man sat up and yanked out a killgun. Jake Pace
had been anticipating that and, after gently but swiftly
. shoving his lovely auburnhaired wife over onto the plaz
cobblestones of the hospital courtyard, he drew his stungun and
fired.
Zzzzzummmmm!
The figure on the stretcher stiffened, produced a series of in­
ternal clangings, dropped his deadly weapon and fell sideways
over onto the stones.

24 Espionage

Illustration by Mike Kuchar

 The two a mbula nce attenda nts, who'd been trying to deliver
the a lleged a ccident victim to the exclusive Pa rk Avenue Surgica l
Centre, both excla imed, "The jig's up!" Aba ndo ning their stret­
cher, they scooted fo r the ca b of their eggshell-white skyva n .
Ja ke wa s a bo ut to go sprinting after them when his wife, o n
her f eet a ga in, gra bbed him a nd dra gged him · to shelter behind
a high decora tive pla z hedge.
" Hildy, why the devil a re yo u impeding my pursuit of those ·
lo uts who . . .' '

"The guy o n the stretcher' s a n a ndro id, set to . . .''

Kabooom!
"Explode," finished Ja ke, as fragments of . their wo uld-be
assa ssin went climbing up into the Ma nha tta n twilight.
The (ake a mbula nce wa s a lso in the a ir, heading away f rom
them .
The debris f ro m the mecha nica l ma n ca me ra ining down o n
the brixwa lled surgica l center co urtya rd. A pla z eye, bright blue,
bonked. Jake o n the sho ulder, a few blo nd curls fluttered down
·

on Hildy.
"This must be a n impo rta nt ca se we' re abo ut to -emba rk o n,"
she observed. .
"People do n' t hire Odd Jobs, Inc. fo r trivia l ca ses," reminded
her husba nd. He was a long lean man in his middle thirties, tanned
a nd a bit weatherbeaten. In j ust three mo nths f rom now, in June
of 2005 , their priva te detective a gency 'would be ten yea rs o ld.
Their ma rria ge wa s a yea r o lder. "We specialize, af tera ll , in the
sort of investigatio ns that few others, even crackaja ck government
'
a gencies, ca n ha ndle.' '
Hildy smiled. "I do n't recaJ l saying , 'And now a word f ro m o ur
· spo nso r.' "
"Not va nity to sta te the obv. . ."
"Do you people intend, I mea n really now, to fro lic in our shrub­
bery for· the rema inder o f the evening?" The coppercolo red robot,
who'd been exa mining their ID pa ckets when the dubious skya m­
bula nce ha d come wa iling down fo r a la nding, wa s still sta nding
o n the steps of the gla z a nd sudometa l ho spita l, meta l ha nds o n
metal hips. ' 'Af tera ll , yo u know, this is a ho spita l not a . .
.''

·
"As I wa s mentio ning ," said Ja ke, esco rting his lovely wife up to
the thresho ld, "we have an appo intme nt with the US Tro uble­
shoo ter General, wh� telepo rted here fro m Wa shingto n , DC to . . .''

26 Espionage
 ' 'And what, abo ut the residue of that dreadf ul man who was pre­
tending to be a potential patient ? " inquired the hospital robo t .
" If yo u think I intend to sweep u p that awf ul mess yo u've got . . ."
"We're now ten minutes late for o ur meeting," said Hildy,
sweetly. "What say we discuss this matter after we. . ."
"Oh, surely, yes. I imagine yo u 'd like that, wo uldn't yo u? le ave
me with a blownup assassin o n my. . . Awk! Ooops!"
Jake had reached out to poke a spot in the mechanism's lef t arm­
pit . That, though few knew it , wa s all it too k to shut off this par­
ticular mo del . "le t 's go in," he suggested to Hildy.
"Yo u 're even more impatient than usual tonight."
"Getting attacked by assassins tends to remind me of my mor­
tality," he explained;. urging her inside.

L
ess than forty-f ive minutes later, Jake was flying westward ,
alone, in o ne of their sleek Odd Jobs, Inc. skycars. He had'
a small makeup kit resting o n his lap and was adding a beard
· ·

to his chin.
The pixpho ne screen o n the co ntro l dash buzzed and his
auburn- haired wife's image appeared. ''J ake, ! . . .what's wro ng with
yo ur f ace? ' '
"Not a damn thing. I'm simply applying a disgu ise so I can cra sh
the Po litical Assassins Guild Annual Awards Banquet o ut in Greater .

Lo s Angeles to night with ease and . . ."

' 'And that's suppo sed to be a beard? ; '
Jake aff ixed another lo ck of ginger whiskers. "Was that the pur­
. po se of yo ur call? To heckle?"
"Nope, I wanted yo u to know I 've lo cated Ero ica Tone,"
answered Hildy with what might o r might not have been <;:o n­
triteness. "She's down in Flo rida, which is where I 'm heading ."
"Okay. Be caref ul and check with me later to night."
' ' Yo u be caref ul , too, Jake. With that godawf ul beard yo u're go­
ing to need a lot of . . .well, never mind . Bye. I love yo u ."
"Same here." Af ter the small oval screen went dead, he picked
up a mirror to examine his f ace. "Hell, that's o ne of the mo st
believable beavers I've ever enco untered."
Jake f lipped a toggle o n the dash , deciding to play again
hig hlights from his vidtape of their recent interview back in
Manhattan with United States Tro ubleshooter General ·Russell
' To ilet .

Espionage. 21
 " . . . ahead and l augh," the stocky pinkish man was saying .
"Russ," Hil dy tol d him, "we've known you for several years,
ever since you were with the Federal Obfuscation Office: We no
l onger feel moved to mirth over your name. Never did, for t hat
matter.' '
Well , when one has a funny name. . . a dirty name. . . one expects
continual . . .
"
.

"Let '.s," suggested Jake, "talk ab. out our fee.' '
' 'And the nicknames I 've had hurl ed at me over the years:
Doodoo, Potty, Crapper. . .' '
"The fee? "
"We can't d.o better than $ 250,ooo .·w e l ost quite a bit on those
hayfever . missil es aimed at . . ."
"$500,000," countered Jake.
"C 'mon; Jake, that's an outrageous price for j ust . . .' '
"How many goverment agents have you l ost al ready on this par-
ticul ar probl em, Russ? "
"Well . . . a few."·
Hil dy· said, "Twenty-six is an odd definition of a few. ' '
"It's onl y twenty-five. FBI Agent Truett turns out to have died
of natural causes.' '
' 'How can somebody fall off tQe torch of the Statue of Liberty
and die of natural causes ? "
" He had vertigo, which the F B I shoul d've . . .'.'
"$500,000," mentioned Jake, again. "In front ."
"You know, I 've still got top agents l ike Rowl and Pond work­
ing on this. Coul d be he'll crack it and we won't nee.d you fol ks
at . . ."
" The United States government," reminded Hil dy, "never call s
in a private inquiry agency l ike ours uniess they're desperate, Russ."
"Okay,. how about hal f now and the rest in tax rebates over the
next five. . .' '
' 'All . Now."
"I don't think you're being at all patriotic, Jake.' '
Hil dy said, ' ' For a job l ike this we'd charge aforeign govern­
ment at l east $750,000 . And don't forget that we've al ready had
an attempt made on our l ives."
' 'By the way, shoul dn't you S<!ve the scraps of that andy and
·

go over them for cl ues to. . ."

"Nope," said Jake, "it 's a standard Taiwan-2 android."

28 Espionage
 "How do you know that ? " .
"Watched the pieces come tumbl ing down. Do we get our fee?"
Toilet got pinker. ' 1\.ll right, but . . ."
Jake, sl ouched sl ightl y in the driveseat of the skycar, fastfor­
warded his tape to the spot where TG Toilet was giving the detail s
of the case.
' '. . . as you may have heard, even though Obfuscation tried
mightil y to suppress all mention, President Singl eton's been suf­
fering from a rare neurol ogical disease known as Ell ison's �yn­
drome. The victims of this dread mal ady have their brains go com­
pl etel y and permanentl y bl ank within a matter of months. For­
tunatel y, Dr. Tinkerman here at the famed Park Avenue Surgi<;al
Centre has j ust recentl y perfected a procedure whereby the en­
tire contents of a human brain can be transferred el ectroni<;all y,
and .quite painl essl y, to a sil icon chip no bigger than, to use the
good doctor's quaint expression, a gnat's peeker. The process is
costl y, of course. The surgeons' and el ectricians ' bill s for the presi- ,
dent's recent operation run to $756, 000,000, and that doesn't in­
cl ude his dail y room ra te, or the . . ."
. "For one nitwit operation, you guys l ay out $756, 000 , 000," cut
in Jake, "and then you bitch about giving us a pal try $500,000 ."
' 'Jake, l et Russ continue."
"Sometimes I wonder,· H il dy, how you came to tie up with a
man who's so mercenary."
" He's awfully cute, Russ. Continue."
"Very well . Dr. Tinkerinan and his able crew of humans, ·an­
droids and robots performed the compl ex operation successfull y
two days a:go. Unfortunatel y, however, once the information is
transferred the original human brain is l eft compl etely blank," con­
tinued Toil et . "Therefore, all of President Singl eton's knowl edge,
ali the important governmental secrets he was privy to, are now
contained onl y in that chip. After a few days had passed and he ·
was j udged full y recovered from the original operation, then the
chip was to have been pl anted in his skull . However. . ."
"Somebody swiped the brain chip," said Jake.
"Exactly," admitted .the ltoubl eshooter General, forl ornl y. "The
chip was taken from this very room in which we stand. The al arm
system was deftl y .made inopera tive, the formidabl e duo or' robot
guards rendered defunct and the storage cabinet opened witJ:l ease.
" It 's niost important we find the brain before this Thursday."

Espionage 29
 "Why Thursday ?" asked Hil dy.
"Well , I can't say. Just trust me that . . . "
"Panazuel a ," said Jake.
Toil et j umped back. "How'd you know about . . ."
�'Odd Jobs, Inc. is in the business of knowing things," he repl ied,
grinning. "Two weeks ago, the Office of Cl andestine Activities,
working on secret orders from President Singl eton himsel f, pl anted
. six thousand-some canisters in the major cities of that troubl ed
Central American country. Those canisters are tied in with a com­
puter l ocated in Arl ington, Virginia, and unless somebody gives
it a countermanding order by noon Thursday, every darned one
of them will expl ode." .
H i ldy s n apped her shapely fingers. "A nd Singleton's t h e o n l y
one who knows the password that'll shut off the canisters."
Toil et sighed. "It took six l ong weeks to pl ant the gas and there's
simply no way we can retrieve them in two days," he admitted.
"We have to find the president's brain because. . ."
"Because Congress got wind of this and they're starting to make
an enormous fuss. If the Lugubrium Gas is actuall y used down
there you'll all be in considerabl e troubl e," said Jake, his grin
widening .
"They 're very touchy about this sort o f thing o n the Hill ," said
the TG. ' 'And it 's not as if the Lugubrium is fatal . The stuff is ac­
tuall y quite humane. What the president and the OCA had in mind
was to make those rebel s who control Panazuel a suddenl y
l ugubrious . . . sad, depressed, tearful , given to uncontroll ed kvetch­
ing. Whil e they were thus occupied, a crack army of more
moderate exil es· woul d be l anded in the key cities to take over."
"But now that Congress is catching -on ," said Hil dy, "you don't
dare pull that . Shame on you anyway, Russ."
"This whol e mess 'Yasn't my idea, Hil dy. I onl y. . .' �

"You mentioned when you pixed us up at our pl ace in Con­

necticut," cut in Jake, "that your various investigators found onl y
two cl ues and coul dn't make anything out o f either."
Nodding, Toil et pointed. to the pl az flooring in front of the wall
panel that conceal ed the cabinet where President Singl eton's new
brain had been reposing . "That odd l ittl e scratch on the floor is
one," he said, "and this singl e thread the other.' ' He produced a
pl yol ope containing a thin, inch l ong twist of purpl ish neowool .
. Jake knel t , rubbing his fingertips over the tiny scratch.

30 Espionage
 " Somebody was tapdancing here," he concluded.
" Tapdancing? Really, Jake, I 'm not in the mood for. . ."
" Bojangles Jazzinsky," said Hildy.
Jake stood. " Yep. 'f.hat 's one of his quirks. When he's elated he
does a small dance," he said . "And swiping the pre.sident 's brain
is the sort of accomplishment that'd make him joll y."
. " Why didn't the FBI, the CIA, the OCA or the Manhattan
,Murder-Theft Squad know that ? "
Shrugging one shoulder, Jake answered, " For one thing, they
don't have the resources Odd Jobs, Inc. does."
Hildy took the little plaz envelope from the Troubleshooter
General . "Might Bojangles ' client be Eroica Tone, Jake?"
"The lady who 'heads the Wargas Advisory Boar<) and is
dedicated to championing the wider use of chemical and
biological weapons ? "
" That Eroica Tone, yes." Hildy lifted the purple thread from the
envelope. "She likes to wear off�the-rack-warmup suits."
"Yeah , usually purplish o nes," said Jake thoughtfully. "Sure, and
Bojangles goes for neolon jackets with silver studs all over them .
When she hired him, a thread from her suit must have been caught
on a stud. Later it dropped off here."
" She's the sort of woman who's always h ugging people," add-
·

ed Hildy.
" Okay," said Jake. " Bojangles, who's one of the best assassins
and catburglars in the country, is up for an award at the Political
Assassins Guild bash out in Greater Los Angeles tonight. I 'll go
out there and chat with him ."
Hildy said, ' 'And I 'll find Eroica Tone."
Toilet looked from Jake to his wife. "This sounds very im­
pressive. You 're not j ust conning me are you ? "
'
Jake gave him a bleak grin. "My only real flaw, Russell , is a
tendency to be completely honest with our clients. I never lie to
them," he said. " Now· get us a certified check for the $ 5 00,000
so we can get started on this mess."

T
he lobby of the New Allah Hotel was vast, made entirely
of seethru glaz. The hotel sat out on pili�gs over the Pacific
Ocean .in the Malibu Sector of GLA . Jake, �ecked out in
believable whiskers and a three-piece tuxsuit, came striding from
the groundlevel skycar lot at a few minutes past eight Pacific Con-

E s p io nage 31
 servative Time. There were several conventions and banquets go­
ing on at the l uxury hotel tonight and besides assassins, Jake found
himsel f rubbing shoul ders with members of the Space Col ony
Real tors of America, the Transexual Mothers of the West, the
Quack Doctors Association and the Senior Citizens Motorcycl e
Gangs of the USA .
It was whil e dodging two ninety year ol d cycl e hoods in leather
studsuits th�t }ake brushed against a sl ender bl onde young woman
who was sobbing into a pl yochief. "Something? " he inquired.
The girl , who wore a two-piece pinstripe cl ingsuit , was quite
pretty. "Oh, no. . . nobody can help me," she said sniffing mourn­
full y. "Unl ess that person was a pianist ." '
Jake grinned. "I happen to pl ay a littl e piano," he tol d the unhap­
py bl onde. Actually he was, al though his wife now and then sug­
gested he was a shade too vain about it, an excell ent piano pl ayer.
Cl assical , pop, j azz, cocktail .
The girl made an inhal ing, burbl ing sound. "Oh ! That's
marvel ous." Then she sl umped further. "But . . . heck, I don't j ust
need a piano pl ayer, I need a progressive jazz piano pl ayer, one
who's expert at recreating the styl e of the middl e of the l ast cen­
tury." After carefull y wadding up the hankie she'd been crying into,
she nodded across the wide crowded l obby. "See that cocktail
l ounge yonder, sir."
"Cl ub Bebop. That one? "
"Yes. I 'm the manager of the pl ace and the bebopper I hired
ra n off to Yucatan with his wife's best friend onl y moments ago
and if I don't find a substitute at once I 'll be up the creek and
out on my ear." Suddenly, putting her head against Jake's chest
she resumed her sad sobbing .
" Hey, no need for that," Jake said. "I can take the time to do
at l east one set for you, miss." The presentation of the prestigious
Brutus Award of Assassin of the Year wouldn't take pl ace for at
l east an hour or more. Since Boj angl es Jazzinsky was one of the
nominees, he'd be certain to stick around up in the Nixon Ball room
at l east until then.
"Can you actually pl ay that styl e of music? " · ,

"Sure, I 'll do my bop medley. Bud Powell , Thel onius Monk and
Red Garl and . Maybe throw in a l ittl e Horace Sil ver.
"Perfect." She lifted her tearstained face from his chest and gave
him a moist gra teful kiss on the cheek. "That's the very sort of

32 Espionage
 ol dfashioned j unk our dippy patrons dote on." Taking hol d of his
arm , she began escorting him across the l obby. "By the way, what's
your name? "
' 'I 'm Strangl er Wisebacker."
"An assassin, are you ? "
" Quack doctor."
"Oh, I thought because of the name."
"It'� my real first name. My l ate father had a rather eccentric
sense of humor."
"My name is Susie M ill er. I 've al ways thought it sort of bl and,
but I guess it 's a heck of a l ot better than Stra ngl er Wisebacker."
She tugged him across the threshol d of the cocktail l ounge, nod­
ding at the doorman, a chunky fell ow in beret, darkgl asses and
zootsuit. "I found someone, D iz ."
" That's· a gas."
Of the twenty or so patrons in the diml it oval room , over hal f
were ancient members o f motorcycl e gangs. They hooted and
.made shaky attempts at obscene gestures as Jake mounted the
piano stool .
.
The upright piano rested on a rectangl e of seethru gl az and the
Pacific was visibl e underfoot . Jake adjusted the stool , fl exed his
fingers, coll ected his thoughts and commenced pl aying .
He was onl y a few notes into Un Poco Loco when a sweetsmell -
, ing pinkish gas began to whisper up from the keyboard at him .
A s it engul fed him, Jake muttered, "Duped again . What 'll Hil dy
say when . . ." His face pl ayed a harsh chord when he fell into the
piano.
" Let me through , I can hel p," cried a man in the audience. "I'm
a quack."

T
he l anky bl ond young · man in the two-piece cl ownsuit
bl ushed when Hil dy emerged, l ong bare l egs foremost,
from the gl istening j usHanded skycar. " Darn," he mur­
mured, smoothing his pol ka dot pants.
Hil dy, who wore ·a shortskirted spungl as suitdress and had sil ky
pl atinum hair now, inhaled the warm Fl orida night air. ' 'You must
be Mr. Ives," she said smil ing .
Distant call iope music drifted across the darkness beyond the
l anding area .
"Ulp," said Preston Ives, Jr.

Espionage 33
 " Whatever is bothering you ? " Reaching out , she patted his
perspiring cheek .
"Well , Mrs. Silverhill . . . I 'm . . . gee. . . sort of embarrassed. We
s a l e s m e n h e re at t h e C i rc u s Factory h ave to wear t h e s e
clownsuits . . . but . . .well , with somebody like you . . . I feel sort of
silly.' :
"You look absolutely terrific," Hildy assured him . ' 'And call me
·

Bunch.''
" Bunch ? "
"Short for Honeybunch. That's my dear husband's nickname
for me. He's Arnold Silverhil l , who owns· the baseball teams in
America."
" I 've heard of him ," responded Ives. "So have my bosses, which
is why they opened up the salesrooms at this ungodly hour,
. ma'am . Ordinarily, we only sell our robot clowns, lions, elephants, .
trapeze
- artists and so on, by day.' '
" I really appreciate the gesture.' ' She patted his cheek again.
"Urn . . . did I get the message right? " asked Ives. "You want to
buy a whole ci�cus?"
"Yes, but it isn't for me." She laughed . ''It's for dear Arnold . . . He's
a fanatic c ircus buff and I want to give him one for his birthday.
He'll be forty next week. That's an important milestone in any
man's life.' ' .
"So I hear. I'm . only twenty-six at the moment."
"You look much more mature."
"Urn . . when you say a whole and entire circus, ma'am . . .' '
.

"Call me Bunch.''
"When you mention that you want to purchase a whole circus,
Bunch . . . urn . . . is that a three ring circus or a one ring? "
"Three of course, Pres. Is that what they call you . . . Pres ? "
' 'Actually, people call m e Poison . That 's sort of because my last
name is ivy.' '
"You'll be Pres to me." Hildy linked her arm with his. "Before
you show me the mechanical elephants and all . . . how many
elephants will I need, by the way ? "
"Six ? "
Hildy's pretty nose wrinkled as she thought. "That really doesn't ­
sound like enough," she said. "But before we get down to business,
Pres, I wonder if you could tell me where my dear old friend
Eroica Tone is stay ing."

34 Espionage
 Please print clearl¥ Rates for U.S. addresses only:
Canoda and elsewhere S28 for one year. U.S.
currency only. Please allow 6 to 8 weeks for deliv-
o
L .::: fl::
- _ -· _ _
�EA.:.J
 "Over in Guest Pavillion #2 , Mrs . . .urn . . . Bunch ." He pointed into
.

the darkness at a faroff chain of floating bl ue spots of l ight. "She's

a real circus enthusiast, too, and comes down here two or three
times a year to watch our techs test the l atest mechanical cl owns
and animal s . You're friends, huh? "
"Fra nkl y, my husband's interest in circuses started after h e heard
Eroica gushing about your Circus Factory."
"Well , we do make j ust about the best mechanical circus equip­
ment in the worl d ."
"Which is why I 'm here." Smil ing, she patted his cheek and then
tweeked his nose. �

"Gosh . . . " Ives straightened up, arms dropping to his side. His
eyes came fl uttering shut .
Hil dy dropped the tiny knockout mist capsul e she'd broken
beneath his nostril s into her shoulder bag and caught . the
cl ownsuited sal esman before he fell over.
After a careful gl ance around, she dragged him behind a stand
of pal metto trees. Then she went wal king briskl y for the pavill ion ·

that · housed her quarry.

'' 0 h , that," said the middl esized, middl eaged man in

the two-piece white cazsuit . "I 've got that right
· . here." He l ifted his wall et from his hip pocket,
opened it and eased out his skydriver's l icense. " Notice the wart
on the cheek in the ID photo? "That's actuall y the president's
brain . Stuck it on with El mer's Gl ue. That stuff really does a great
job of. . ."
"Why," Jake interrupted to ask, "did you drag me down here
to Panazuel a, Pond?,"
Rowl and Pond bl inked, scanned the sunfill ed storeroom and
said, "What makes you think you're in Panazuel a, Jak� ? "
Jake, hands tied behind him , was sitting i n a l ame wicker chair
next to a· stack of neowood crates. " Listen," he suggested, nod­
ding at an open window.
"Guitar music," recognized the renegade US government agent .
"Layabouts singing in Spanish . Yes, those are good cl ues sure .
enough ."
" Parrots, too, and cockatoos," added Jake, "jabbering in the :pal m
trees I can see across the' way."
"You 're not such a bad detective at that ." .

36 Espionage
 " Besides which," said Jake, "all these cases of Hol y Col a say
'Bottl ed in Panazuel a under a l icense of the Hol y Col a Company
of lol a , Wisconsin.' "
" I ' ve never stored a prisoner here before," Pond said. "I
shoul d 've real ized there were so many tell tal e signs."
" Why'd you take me prisoner and not j ust kill me? " .
" Don't tell me you 're compl aining about my not bumping you
off, Jake? "
"You and your gang have killed twenty-six investigators already.''
"1\venty-five.' ' Pond seated himsel f in a wing chair facing Jake.
' 'You we decided to keep as a hostage, since, and I don't mean
this merel y as cheap fl attery, you 're a heck of a l ot betterknown
than any government agent , even me, and . . .' '
"You in this with Eroica Tone? "
Pond nodded. " You hear about some agents who sell out for
money and some who sell out for sex/' he said, smil ing con­
tentedl y. " I 'm getting both . $ 2 30,000 in cash and Eroica. Now,
I know she's sort of sl im and she's nearl y forty and some peopl e
say she's about three degrees nastier than a pit viper and it 's possi­
bl e she'll throw me out on my toke when she tires of. . ."
"What exactl y is the purpose of all this ? " Jake had been, unob­
trusivel y, testing the neorope that bound his wrists. He was cer­
tain he coul d , in time, . work free. "You want the gas to go off,
· • ·
is that it? "
"Yes, right . It 'll be a terrific demonstration of the effectiveness
of wargas in. general . It took Eroica months to caj ol e President
Singl eton and the OCA into trying this and we aren't going to l et
Congress futz it up now. The publ icity val ue of devastating a
radical · country with something like Lugubrium is fantastic and . . .' '
"What about the president's bra in?"
Pond patted his wall et and slipped it back into his hip pocket.
"Oh, once the gas canisters go off, we'll send it back," he. said.
"Eitl1er by United Parcel or Fed Express; woul dn't trust the Post
Office. Eroica wanted to send it 4th Cl ass Rate, but I feel that's
snide and, after all , it is the president of the United States we're. . .' '
·
"Excuse it , senor.' '
Pond, frowning, turned toward the uniformed man who'd
opened the door and come quietl y into the storeroom . "What's
wrong now, Raoul ? "
"Is the r�porter."

Espionage 37
 " What the hell would a reporter be doing here ? "
The lieutenant of t h e Opposition Army consulted t h e business
card held out in his left hand. "She is with the Tiny Tots Magazine
of Chicago, Illinois,' ' he explained. Her name is Vera Dalyrimple
and . . .' '
' 'I 'm here to do a piece on how Holy Cola is brewed and bot­
tled." Hildy pushed the lieutenant aside, gently, and came in. She
had shortcut grey hair, wore a two-piece bizsuit and carried a large
sudostraw purse over her left shoulder. "Our four and a half
million readers are eager to know how their favorite soft drink
is made. For instance, what function does that lanky gentleman
tied to the lopsided chair serve in the whole process."
"Oh, him," said Pond. "He's one of our employees who j ust
went berserk. They do that a lot here in Panazuela. Running amok
they call it . You j ust tie them up until the mood passes."
" Fascinating." She moved closer to her husband.
"Miss Dalyrimple, if · you want the full Holy Cola story, you
ought to vis it our main plant in lola, Wisconsin," Pond told her.
" Because that's where . . ."
" I 'd better tell you why I came here instead." Smiling sweetly,
Hildy reached into her purse. " This will explain everything.''
Zzzzzzummmmmm!
Zzzzzzummmmmm!
She fired the stungun she'd produced, twice.
The lieutenant stiffened and toppled over first, followed an in- .
·

stant later by Pond.

P utting the gun away, Hildy took a s mall knife from her p urse.
" Honestly, Jake," she said, while slicing the ropes. " Letting them
con you into playing the piano."
"You got to Eroica Tone? "
" Sure. And after I used some truth mist on her, she informed
me all about her plans and about you .
Jake stood up as soon as the final rope fell free. "Singleton's
brain is in Pond's wallet," he said, rubbing at his wrists.
Kneeling, Hildy abstracted the wallet from the hip pocket of
the stunned agent . "Once this gets back into the president's head,
he's just going to come up with more crackpot plans and mischief."
"Even so," said Jake, "we have to return it ." Taking the wallet
from her, he slid it into his breast pocket. " Thanks for rescuing
me ." -r

38 Espionage
PURif1
by Edward Wl:llen

lyde Morlock -'that was the name he used

in England - found the Admiralty plans in
Sir George Fliflet's desk drawer. These
Englanders! So punctilious in small matters, so
careless in momentous ones.
Morlock drew the plans from the accordion­
pleated paper wallet he had found them in and
spread them on the desk top. Yes, these were the
specifications for the coaling stations Her Britannic
Majesty's fleet would need if - say rather when; if
not this decade, then the next - war came and the
Kaiser's fleet blocked the Suez Canal. To make the
voyage to India the long way around, ports to refuel
and reprovision at and to put into for repairs and
refitting, were vital. Alliances were always chancy,
treaties always liable to breaching - especially in
time of war, when needed most . Great Britain re­
quired bases under its total control, bases a poten­
tial foe would be unaware of, bases from which the
British fleet could sally forth to strike unexpected
blows and withdraw to for shelter and resupply. And
these plans laid it all out . Which Pacific atolls and
Indian Ocean isles were to be secretly made ready,
which harbors blasted and dredged for the draughts
of the British fleet's mightiest warships, what sup­
plies built up where.

Espionage 39
Illustration by Bruce Baker
 With these plans in hand, the Kaiser's agents could
sabotage the installations, snap the links in the chain
of empire the late Disraeii had been forging for his ·
sovereign.
Morlock's own sovereign had dreams of empire,
of an empire to put the British lion in the shade.
How grateful the Kaiser would be to the man who
made that possible! Morlock almost stiffened to at­
tention, . visualizing the Kaiser himself pinning a
coveted Iron Cross on his chest, a chest that swell­
ed now in anticipatory pride.
But this was no time to stand gloating.
Shakespeare said it , as Shakespeare had said
everything else:
There is a tide in the affairs of men,
Which, taken at the flood,
Leads on to fortune;
Omitted, all the voyage of their life
Is bound in shallows and in miseries.
Capital advice.
Morlock found a supply of blank writing paper
in the same drawer, helped himself to a dozen sheets,
folded them in three, and stuffed them into the card­
board wallet to keep the theft from becoming im­
mediately obvious. He replaced the wallet in the
drawer, in the exact position he had found it, and
carefully closed the drawer.
He took up 'the plans from the desktop and sud­
denly realized why Shakespeare had surfaced in his
mind. Morlock's task was to get the plans to a fellow
secret agent who, in turn, would spirit the plans out
of England . This spy courier was presently staying
at Stratford, Shakespeare's village.
Morlock would not even risk returning to his
room . He would pocket the plans and slip out of
the house straightaway. The Clyde Morlock identity
could not stand up under sustained scrutiny by
Scotland Yard detectives, to say nothing of Naval In­
telligence wallahs. Clyde Morlock would have to
vanish after this night 's work. Sink without a trace.

Esp ionage 4I
 Full fathom five, as Shakesp�are said. .
Resurface elsewhere, of cours�. Perhaps - and he
grimaced - facing the world from behind mutton
chops and a walrus mustache. In any event, he
would assume another identity,. travel in other
circles, in another part of the country. Shakespeare
had a telling phrase for that, too. What'S in a name?
That . which is sub rosa is only furthered by the tak­
ing on of other names. Still, the man who went by
the name of Clyde Morlock felt a sad smile tug at
his mouth . He knew a pang· at · having to jettison
Clyde Morlock. The . part had fitted him snugly.
He had enjoyed playing an Australian sheep
·
rancher grown wealthy on wool and mutton and
looking for nothiqg better than to retire·to the English
countryside and become an English country gentle­
man. He had taken great pleasure in weekending as ·

guest of the gentry, shooting pheasant and dining

elegantly. His next assignment might .not provide the
same high level of -
The library door swung suddenly open, freezing
Morlock in the act of stowing the plans in an inner '
pocket of his · dinner jacket .
"So! Caught you redhanded, you rotter! Betray my
hospitality, would you?" Sir George's voice, like the
roar of a lion . .
Morlock took a half step sideways to free himself
for action. The corridor being dark, Sir George had
only brought more darkness with him, so Morlock
was as yet unsure what that action would be. .
Sir George had the advantage. "Stand still."
Despite his anger, Sir George chuckled. "You make
a splendid target against the french windows in the
· ·

moonlight."
Morlock let his shoulders sag and spoke in a
defeated tone. ' 'As you say, Sir George.' '
But as Sir George did not. follow his own advice
-
and stand still, and instead made the mistake of
striding confide�tly nearer and showing himself in
. the band of moonlight , Morlock moved.

4 .2 Espionage
 Morlock swept up the heavy glass inkwell from
the desk and hurled it, all in one continuous move­
ment. The inkwell struck Sir George full on the brow
and felled him, but not before his pistol discharged .
. The force of the bullet spun Morlock about. He
did not fall, but felt immediately dizzy. That would
be shock. The bullet had passed through Morlock's
right arm and lodged in his chest . H e knew he was
leaking a lot of blood : most likely dying. But he had
his escape to make good, the plans to transmit, his
mission to accomplish .
First his escape. The shot would fetch the servants.
Morlock s tepped quickly to the heavy door, closed
it, and propped a chair under the doorknob, fmding
as he did so, that the bullet had rendered his right
arm nerveless. And when Sir Geo·rge stirred and
started struggling to his feet , Morlock had to use his
left hand . to pick up the glass inkwell to complete
the j ob. The left hand, too, picked up the pistol and
j ammed it in his pocket. As the first timid knock
sounded on the door, Morlock slipped out through
the french window and into . the night .

rofesser Alexander C hechele caught himself

rtodding over the proof sheets of the latest
.
revision of his magnum opus Good Usage
and rubbed his eyes and massaged his neck . Weary­
ing business, t rying to correct the errors, preserve
minimum standards, hold back the barbarians.
He frowned. Something had brought him out of
the momentary doze. A noise? He listened . A stir out
there in the night . He creaked to his feet and pulled
the drapes of his french windows slightly apart. He
peered vaguely out across the moonlit lawns and
neatly clipped hedges and their equally neat
shadows. A to-do at the Fliflet household three lawns
away, all the lights lit and figures moving about .
None· of his affair. He shrugged and pulled the
drapes to. But as he made h is way back toward his
des k , a tapping on the glas� halted h im . He t urned

Espionage 43
 back around and parted the drapes again. A figure
crouched low to keep from showing above the
balustrade gestured for admittance.
Professor Chechele looked beyond the Fliflets'
and hesitated. The figure gave a grunt o f impatience,
and with what proved to be a pistol shattered a pane.
The pistol disappeared momentarily, a left hand
reached in and awkwardly unlatched the french win­
dow, and the pistol reappeared in the left hand of
the man who burst in.
"Quick, the drapes! "
"You mean quickly," Professor Chechele said
automatically, but closed the drapes.
With a wave of the gun, the man gestured him
backward, then seated himself in the professor's
chair. He looked all done in, if not quite done for.
His right sleeve was dark with blood and a patch of
the same darkness stained the right side of his din­
ner jacket. The man was barely holding himself
together. "I can go no further."
' 'You can go no farther,' ' Professor Chechele said.
The man stared at him.
" Let me spare you the effort of speaking, at least
until you find it necessary to correct me," Professor
Chechele went on. "It would seem that you had a
set-to with Sir George - I recognize the chasing on
the pistol - and that you are now on the run . How
is Sir George? You may indicate his condition with
a nod or a shake of the head.' '
The man hesitated, then shook his head .
Sadly, Professor Chechele shook his own head.
"He was more neighbor than friend, but I shall miss
him . I suppose it is too much to expect that you are
prepared to surrender to the authorities? "
The man smiled grimly. t"I am a desperate man."
Still holding the pistol, he freed thumb and little
finger to draw folded sheets of paper from his in­
ner pocket .
Professor Chechele weighed the odds and decided
that frailty and slowness made succ.essfully jump-

44 Espionage
ing the man arid wresting the pistol from him , or
successfully dashing from the room and raising the
alarm highly unlikely.
The man laid the papers on the desk. The gun
pointed again at the professor. ' 'These plans will
make Vikky's throne very shaky."
A flush came to the professor's cheeks, a flash to
his eyes. Ignoring the pistol, he stood as erect as
when singing · "God Save the Queen" and shook a
finger. "In this house, sir, you will refer to Her
Majesty as Queen Victoria."
Hal(-rising, the spy bowed stiffly, in not-entirely:
mock respect. "I stand corrected. I am an honorable
enemy." He sat back down, with a grimace. "The fact
remains, your beloved monarch's domains will
shrink. I tell you this so you will realize I am a.
desperate man, with nothing to lose. I haven't time
for torturous explanations - "
"Tortuous, not torturous. A rambling discourse is
tortuous. Though;" the professor added to be fair;
" to a listener it may be torturous."
"Enough talk," the man barked. "I can aim and
fire this pistol with my left hand, but my right hand',
my.writing hand, will not hold the pen . Therefore,
you will do me the service of addressing an
envelope." He glanced at the professor's neatly ar­
ranged stationery. ' 'I find your envelopes ideal for
my purpose. They already bear your return address.
You have merely to write a name and address at my
direction." He got up with some_ effort . "Take the
seat, please, and write."
' 'And if I refuse ? "
·

The spy raised the pistol and the professor looked

down its bore.
"I see."
The spy moved out of his way, and out of his
reach , and · the professor took the seat .
He took an envelope, dipped his pen in the ink-
well, and waited. .
The spy drew a ragged breath. ' 'Address the

Espionage 45
 envelope to A . Tobit , Esq. , presently staying at the
White Swan, Stratford on Avon ."
Professor Chechele opened h,is mouth to correct
his visitor, then clamped it shut . He shot a glance
toward his correspondence file, then looked down
to hood the gleam in his eye. He gave his pen hand
a preliminary, limbering-up twirl, then addressed the
e nvelope in a flowing hand.
The man had been watching closely from where
he stood. He swayed slightly but spoke firmly and
the gun did not waver. "Thank you . Now if you'll
be so kind as to stand up and move away from the
desk - '' And from its appurtenances, too, the man
obviously meant, his eye having lingered on the
heavy inkwell.
Professor Chechele rose slowly. A Shakespearean
speech intoned itself across his mind.
We are such stuff
As dreams are made on,
And our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.
The spy took the professor's chair once more. He
pressed his right arm to his chest, causing himself
obvious but seemingly necessary pain. Still holding
himself together. He sat a moment studying the ad-
. dress carefully. "Just so. Admirable handwriting, sir.
Most legible."
He helped himself to the proper amount of
postage from the professor's stamp box, and one­
handedly stuffed the · stolen plans inside the
envelope, then sealed the flap firmly and poc_keted
the envelope. "Now to post this in a nearby pillar
box."
Professor Chechele drew a deep breath . "I rather
fancy you intend to leave me trussed up whilst you
make your escape. You may use the curtain cords."
The spy smiled painfully. " Nice try, sir. But you
know better than that . From talk at Sir George's, l 'm
aware that you are a professor and live alone. But
surely a daily will show up tomorrow, one of your

46 Espionage
 colleagues or students. You would at once notify �he
authorities, who would intercept the plans before
they reached Stratford On Avon and arrest my
courier at the White Swan."
A great sadness swept over Professor Chechele. So
much to do, so much he· would have to leave
undone.
The spy looked suddenly a deathly gray, drained
of blood, and for a moment the professor had hope.
But the spy drew strength from his feverish will and
·

held the pistol steady on the professor.

"Sorry, professor. I feel badly
. about having to do
this."
Professor Chechde smiled sorrowfully. He raised
a finger. " 'I feel badly' means that your sense of
touch is defective. You feel bad about - "
The shot cut him off.
Morlock shook his head. "Right to the end." He
grimaced. He himself hadn't much longer. His face
twisted and his body arched. He was in the squeeze
of a great fist, the grip of death. But he would last
till he had posted the envelope, then crawl to a

[]J
hedgerow and hide. Let death seek him there.

he postmaster glared at the envelope. Tb,e ad­

dress was plain - all too plain. A . Tobit, Esq. ,
. ·
The White Swan, Stratford On Avon .
He turned his attention to the printed address of
the sender, a name he knew well. _The postmaster's
anger mounted. To think that the professor, who had
so vigorously supported his crusade, should now
defect or suffer a lapse.
· Vehemently, the postmaster stamped the envelope
''Address Unknown. Return to Sender." The world
had to learn to call Shakespeare's birthplace by its
correct name. It was Stratford-upon-Avon, not Strat­
ford On Avon. The postmaster was adamant in his
desire to keep the name straight. Anyone who
wished to correspond with an inhabitant of
Stratford-upon-Avon would have to learn that . -+

Espionage 47
K
urt Thompson watched the unknowing of the impending winds.
storm clouds swirling out Within the hour, the burning sun­
of the northeastern sky. shine that blazed across the tiny
Masses of dark w ind churned island would be hidden behind the
menacingly. The air seemed to tum­ rolling storm clouds.
ble over itself like thick lava rushing The weather would delay Susan's
down the sides of an erupting arrival. She hadn't been able to leave
volcano. New York on Tuesday as planned -
Three stories below the balcony an emergency modeling job that
on which Thompson stood, a hand­ would pay double-time. She'd tol d
ful of Caribbean beach boys scurried Kurt t o g o along without her; she'd
to secure the beach cabana where fly down on the next available flight.
the towels and chairs were stored. Now Susan was stuck in San Juan
Flags were raised to warn the until the storm passed, and the
48 Espionage
 meteorologists were guessing at watch. He glanced into the rear-view
anywhere from 12 to 48 hours. mirror, looked away, then looked
"You cannot predict the wind;' the g
behind the car once a ain. The ·curv­
man had told Kurt over t h e ing dirt road on which he'd parked
telephone. was deserted, as it had been since
Thompson took the keys to the his arrival 37 minutes before.
rental car from his pocket and He checked his watch. Tapped the
twirled them around his finger and steering wheel. Eyed the rear-view
then snapped them into his palm. m irror.
Storm or no, he was going out. Situated southwest ofa slope lined
with l ush foliage, he d i dn't see the

T
he man in the dark blue approaching c louds unti l the heavy
sedan tapped the hard steer­ round drops of- rain splattered across
, ing wheel. He checked his his windshield. The raindrops hit the
Espionage 49
Illustration by Mark Weatherhead
 '

ground with such force that bits of more tactfu l than most, waited unti l
d ust j u mped from the road unti l the Tessa had lowered her eyes to sign
earth became satu rated enough to the rental agreement before al lowing
hold the d i rt down. The sky h i s own eyes to feast upon her body;
darkened qu ickly. the sheer white material of her sun­
"The storm is early:' The man d ress allowed a perfect view of her
spoke out loud. "It's not supposed to smal l ish breasts. He sm i led .
come unti l tomorrow;' he protested Tessa pushed the completed form
to no one, raising h i s voice. back across the counter to h i m .
He banged his fist against the con­ "You were qu ite l ucky, Miss
sole, then wi ped h i s pal m over the George;' the man said, as he tore her
inside of the windsh ield that fogged ·c opy of the agreement from the
from the sudden drop in temperature binder. "Your fl ight was the last
that accompanied the rain. He allowed in todaY,'
checked h i s watch . "Why is that?" ·

"She's late, goddammit. She's late:' "Storm . Hu rricane's here ahead of

There was a noise. He looked into sched u le:'
the rear-view mi rror,· but couldn't see Tessa had seen the clouds to the
anything for the streaking l ines of
·
northeast as her plane had ap­
si lver rain. proached the island, but she hadn't
real ized the swiftness of the i r ap­

S
he departed the 727 carry­ proach . "How long until it starts?"
ing a nylon fl ight bag that she asked, suddenly tense.
she h ung over her shou lder. The man sh rugged. "Half hour.
One of the ground crew workers Maybe more. Maybe less:'
whistled at her, as she walked across Tessa took the car keys and ran
the hot asphalt near the term inal. towards the exit, cl utch ing the fl ight
She smi led back pol itely, her expres­ bag to her shou lder to keep from
sion making it c l ear that her d ropping it and hold ing the front of
response was not an invitation, only her dress to keep it from coming
thanks. undone.
The p u r p l e- i n ked seal wa s Two hours later, she was soaking
stamped on her passport at Customs wet. Her hai r hung in wet c l umps
without question. She was not re­ against her shou lders and her dress
q u i red to fi l l out the usual forms. was stuck to her body l i ke a second
The car rental kiosk was without layer of skin. She shivered with cold
a l ine. She walked d i rectly to the as she shut herself into a phone
counter. ''Tessa George;' she said. booth j ust outside of town and
''You have a car for me:' dialed a series of 23 d igits, pausing
The th in man beh ind the counter, at predesignated times to wait unti l

50 Espionage
the ring of a connecting line wou l d th rough the trees as the rain thudded
patch her through to a new dial tone. threaten ingly against the metal top
''Ten-six-one-oh-th ree." of the phone booth. She didn't know
"Courier. N umber seven-five-n ine­ what she was carrying in the fl ight
seven . Grid six. Latitude twenty­ bag, except that i t. was a sealed,
th re.e. Response n ine-n ine-n i n e:' padded envelope about the size and
The l ine went dead. we i g h t of a h a rd cove r book.
Tessa h ung up. Whatever it was, it -was worth ki l l ing
The phone rang. for. The man she was supposed to
When she answered, she repeated have met i n the parked, dark blue
the code she had relayed to the cen­ sedan was dead. If the storm hadn't
tral operator. come crash ing down a l l over the
"You've got three min utes;' a voice island, whomever had kil led the
told her, establ ish ing the amount of man in the car m ight have waited
ti me d u ring which it was safe to nearby to k i l l her, too.
speak before an interception unit And that wou l d remain a pos­
cou ld pinpoint the · location of her sibil ity until she passed the· secret
cal l . parcel onto whomever wou ld be
Tessa recogn ized the voice a s that assigned to take the dead man's
of Field Supervisor Boxley, the head place.
of CIA, West Indies. "Rendezvous in­ . With only a vague idea as to what
complete;' she said. "Pick-up agent to do next, Tessa d rove slowly into
fatal ity. One shot, presumably a town . She was cold. Turn ing on the
pistol, to the temple. Fatal shot little car's heater didn't help; the
delivered at rendezvous site:' heater d idn't work. Who wou ld ex­
A series of cl icking sounds bit pect to have to use a heating u n it on
th rough the long-distance connec­ a Cari bbean island? Tessa wondered,
tion. 'We can't get to you because of sh ivering as she fl icked the fan
the storm. You're going to have to switch back to. its off position.
hold on until it passes:' Boxley It was d ifficu lt . to make out the
awaited her reply, heard none, then shop signs along the side of the
asked, "Is that clear?" street as she entered the town. What
Tessa said that it was, shoutin g to the rai n d id n't b l u r, the wind did,
be heard over the wind. She cou ldn't wrenching signs wildly from side to
tel l if Boxley had disconnected at the side, banging them against the front
other end or not, but she assumed walls of the shops to wh ich they
he had and did l i kewise. were attached.
Cl utch ing her fl ight bag, she Leaving the engine running, and
leaned back in the glass enClosu re turn ing on her emergency flashers,
and l istened to the wind wh i pping Tessa pul led close to the curb in

Espionage 51
front of what looked to be a sma l l tape and made for the front door.
grocery store. Once i nside, she saw She ran out into the rai n but never
a short man with a bal loon-l ike belly saw the man standing by her car un­
standing beside a refrigerated meat­ til she h it h i m . She went flying. Her
case. H is dark eyes were no more dress tore as she fel l to the cement
·
than b lack sl its between his puffy wal kway and the fl ight bag dropped
cheeks and the overhang of his slop­ off her shoulder. Scu rrying in the
i n g forehead . blinding rainfall, she pawed over the
Tessa felt her gri p on the fl ight bag sidewalk trying to find her bag.
tighten . She stayed j ust inside the The man's hand grabbed her arm,
front door. "I only need some paper. p u l l i n g her to her feet, and handed
L i ke the kind you wrap meat in;' she her the fl ight bag as he pul led her
said, pointi n g to a rol l of dull brpwn under the cover of a nearby awn i n g.
paper that sat atop the refrigerated The rai n screamed down as the wind
case. flapped hard against the canvas
The man shrugged . "How much?" overhang. .
he asked . ':A.re you a l l right?" the man nearly
Tessa held out her hands, measu r­ shouted, to be heard over the
i n g off about a yard . weather.
The man unrol led s l ightly 'more Tessa found h i s eyes; they were
than Tessa requested and ran a long warm and brown. Friendly. She
meat kn ife down its width to cut it shook her head.
off. ':A.nyth i n g other?" he asked, not Without seem i n g at a l l self­
seeming to care at a l l what she conscious, the man adj usted the
wanted with the paper. front of Tessa's water-drenched sun­
"Maski n g tape;' Tessa said. She d ress to cover her exposed right
walked towards h im, her hold on the breast. "I hope that's not your car,' the
fl ight bag easing. "La cinta?" she man said, pointing to the two-door
asked, wondering if that was the cor­ Toyota she'd rented at the ai rport.
rect term in Span ish. The car's left fender was smashed
He bent over beh ind the counter, i n . The right rear wheel had j umped
pushi n g aside a few objects before the sidewalk u pon i mpact; it was
standing u p with a half-used rol l of now bent ' and without air.
two-inch wide tape. "I d idn't even see it unti l it was too
"Fine;' Tessa smi led, unzipping the late. The left flasher wasn't worki n g,
side pocket to the fl ight bag to j ust the right; I thot,Jght it was only
remove her wal let. "How much?" a motorcycle or someth i ng:'
She paid what he asked, then Tessa didn't speak. Her hand
folded the brown paper into her shook where it touched his forearm.
fl ight bag along with the masking "Can I take you somewhere?" he

52 Espionage
asked. ' a storm was about to h it:'
"I don't th i n k you told me you r Tessa sat on the sofa across from
name;' she responded . h is bed, and yawned . "I think I'm
·
"Ku rt. Kurt Thompson :' about to be anti-social;' she said
softly, closing her eyes.

I
t took Thompson an hour to When she fel l asleep, Thompson
negotiate th rough the storm and carried h�r to the bed and put her
make it back to h i s hotel. He under the covers. With h is newfound
took Tessa to h is room and gave her friend resting comfortably, Thomp­
the use of his shower. son stood by the balcony door and
Wh i le she was towell ing off inside watched the storm continue to rol l
the steam-fi l led bath room, Thomp­ sheets of hard, slantin g rai n through
son stuck h i s hand inside, hold ing the sky. Hours later, he joined her i n
a terrycloth robe. bed.
"Th is doesn't look !_ike you r size;' It was sti l l dark outside, probably
Tessa said, tying the robe at her the m iddle of the n ight, Thompson
waist. thought, when he felt Tessa's weight
"It's my girlfriend's robe:' sh ifting. · . she got out of 'bed. He
Tessa d rew her wet hair back into watched her take her fl ight bag from
a ponytail and let herself out oft h e beside the sofa, open it, and take out
bath room. "She won't mind my be­ a folded rectangle of brown paper
i n g here?" and a rol l of masking tape.
"Not if she doesn't know;' Thomp­ She folded the paper over and over
son sm i led, propped up . on the unti l its size was reduced to that of
room's only bed, sitting atop the a book. Trying to remain qu iet, she
covers in d ry clothes. wrapped two bands of tape around
"Where is she?" the paper's wid.th and two more
"Puerto Rico. She was flying i n bands around its le'n gth.
from New York when the storm h it:' She put the tape back into the
"She's stranded there and I'm flight bag and then stuffed the folded
stranded here:' Tessa had fabricated and taped paper under the seat
a story about having checked out of cush ion of the chair that sat near the
her hotel to fly home only to be bath room door. She checked the
grounded by the hurricane. "Did you door to thei r room, making sure it
have a chance to check any of the was locked, and then got back into
nearby hotels for a room for me, b�d beside Thompson .
while I was showering?" H e pretended to sleep through the
Thom pson sm i led. "They're all incident and lay there si lently,
booked sol id. Hu rricane freaks. They wonderi ng what . he'd j ust seen take
all rushed in as soon as they heard pl ace.

Espionage 53
T
hompson was awake, watch­ handed it to h i m, and then sat in a
i n g the sky l i ghten to a chair by the balcony door and
med i u m grey, Tessa as i eep placed her arms and legs beh ind the
beside h im, when the phone rang. chair as though she were tied i n to
The shri l l bel l awakened Tessa with that position . " H it me with the belt;'
a start and she bolted u pright as she demanded u rgently, "and shout
though shot from a spri ng. that I shou ld tel l you where it is."
'
Thompson picked up the phone. 'What!"
':.\re you expectin g a cal l ?" Tessa "J ust do it. H u rry u p, he'll be here
asked, before he cou l d say hel lo. soon. H it me hard. Across my chest:'
Thompson shook his head, no. He 'What the hel l . . . ?"
l istened to h i s cal ler, thanked h i m, "Goddamm it, Kurt, j ust do it or we
·

and hung u p. m ight both get kil led:'

'What was that?" Tessa's eyes shone Thompson's hands trembled at her
fiercely, l i ke a tiger's; her pulse threaten ing words. 'Where is it?" he
pumped visibly i n her neck. asked.
Thompson sh rugged, getting out "Louder,'' Tessa whispered . "Shout
of bed. "The desk manager said it. L i ke you mean it:'
someone was com i n g up with a "W h e re i s it?" T h o m pson
delivery for me:' He put on his pants·. screamed.
Tessa grabbed a fistfu l of the 'That's it; keep it u p. And hit me:'
sheets. "Oh God. They've found me!" She saw h i m hesitate. "Go ahead,
Thompson saw her pan icked ex­ dam m it:'
pression. 'What are you talking "Tell me where. it is!" Thompson
about?" yel led . He d rew back the belt and
'They m ust have traced the rental sent it half-hearted ly onto her bicep.
car to me, and someone else must "Harder! It's got to seem real . And
have taken down you r l icense plate keep yel l i n g:'
number when you h it my car:' Tessa ' H e cracked her right breast with
got out of bed and paced the floor. 'the leather. The sound of her flesh
"How else cou ld they have con­ being whipped snapped through the
nected me to you?" a i r. 'Where is it! Tel l me!"
'What's going on?" Tessa's seem­ The locked door to the i r hotel
i ngly irrational actions were begin­ room came crash ing open, pro­
n i ng to frighten h i m. pel l ed from the door frame by a
"I haven't got ti me to explain;' she forcefu l kick. A tal l, muscu lar man
repl ied tensely, stri pping off her with a s i lenced .38 charged into the
bathrobe and grabbing his arm. "J ust room .
do what I saY,' She ri pped the belt "Than k God you're here!" Tessa
from the waistband of his pants, yel ped. "It's under the seat cush ion

54 Espionage
 right next to you. H u rry u p. There's steps at a time. Reaching the beach
another guard down the hal l :' level, they ran into the pelti n g rai n
His gun pointed at Thompson, the and raced for the hotel down near
intruder th rew back the chair's the point. They were both soaked
cushion and took the taped package. through by the time they reached the
Tessa lunged out of the cha i r, overhang of the neighboring hotel's
knocking Thompson down with a rear entrance.
naked body block. "Get going!" she · Tessa pul led together the front of
screamed to the gunman. "I can take her robe. "Phone?" she asked an idle
care of h i m :' employee of the hotel.
The assai I ant had what he'd come The man looked at Tessa's figu re,
for. He stuffed his gun into a holster glanced at Thompson, took i n her
strapped to h i s belt and ran from the figure once more, and then pointed
room. down the hal l .
Tessa stood, grabbed the terrycloth . Her Hight bag gri pped tightly
robe from the foot of the bed and got beneath her arm, Tessa ran down the
into it. "Let's go;' she told Thompson, tile floor, leaving wet footprints
helping h i m to h i s feet. "Get you r beh ind her. She had a l ready closed
shirt on :' S h e grabbed her fl ight bag herself into the phone booth by the
and headed for the door. time Thompson caught up.
Thompson appeared dazed. She repeated the process �he'd
"He's going to be back here within used the day before, after having
min utes. If he doesn't real ize that the found the man in the dark blue
package is a phoney, he's sudden ly sedan dead.
going to wonder how I was able to Field Supervisor Boxley came onto
knock you to the ground when it the other end. 'We have a new
looked l i ke I was tied up:' rendezvous, effective i m med iately:'
Moving as though caught in a He ticked off 35· seconds worth of
slow-motion playback, Thompson code that told Tessa to retu rn to
pul led on his sh i rt. "Why did you where she'd found the dead man
knock me down?" yesterday, and disconnected .
"Because it sudden ly occurred to 'What's going on?" Thompson
me that the gun man m ight th i n k I pleaded when Tessa came out of the
was in danger, and since he saw that phone booth.
I thought he was an ally, he may have "I can't explain now. I need a car:'
k i l led you to save me from that "In th is weather?"
danger:" Tessa grabbed Thom pson's Tessa adjusted her robe again . The
arm. "Now let's go:' soggy material was d rooping down
They ran barefooted towards the from her shou lders and chest. "Is
stai rs, and took the th ree flights, two there a rental car agency in this

56 Espionage
 place?'' her head. "I can't take you with me,
·

Thompson saw her determination. Kurt. I'm sor,Y.'

"Take m i ne if you've got to do th is:' H e got o u t of t h e d r i ve r's
Tessa shook her head. "I can't. compartment.
That's how they traced me in the fi rst Tessa sat in the wet seat, tossi n g
place:' She smacked her hand h e r fl ight bag onto t h e passenger
against the fl ight bag. "I don't have seat. "I'll cal l .you some t i me and ex­
m uch time:' plain a l l this;' she said, closing the
Thompson considered h is mystery · door. She backed out of the parking
woman. 'What's in that bag? Who space and stopped. Rol l ing down
do you work for?" her window, she stuck her head out
"I don't know and I can't tel l you;' i n to the pouring rai n . ''Thanks:'
she responded, answeri n g both

H
questions honestly. e wa� drinki[lg a rum on ·the
Thompson turned towards the exit. rocks with l i me when the
·
"Come on. I'l l steal you a car.' phone rang.
She followed h i m i n to the parking "Kurt?'' the far-away sounding voice
lot. The rai n beat down hard around asked. '�re you alone?"
them, bouncing off the rooftops of ''Tessa. Are you a l l right? What the
· the parked cars. The lot was deserted hel l happened? Where are you?" He
as Thompson walked qu ickly be­ cou ldn't bel ieve it was her. Once the
tween the rows of automobiles, look­ clouds had carried off the rai n , and
i n g for one that was un locked. the sun had reappeared, he'd almost
''You real ly know how to do this?" convinced h imself that the beautifu l
Tessa asked when he'd found an girl with .h er secret package had
unsecu red Datsun. been a mere m i rage.
Thompson didn't reply. Taking a She explained as much to h i m as
piece of tofn sheet metal he'd pul led s h e co u l d w i t h o u t b reac h i n g
out of the dumpster near the edge security. "Is you r gi rlfriend there?"
of the lot, he popped the ign i tion Tessa finally asked .
switch. He qu ickly crossed a set of Thompson swigged his d ri n k. "She
wi res, and the car began to struggle went back to New York. Puerto Rico ·

to l i fe. Thompson reached down to was all the sun she could take."
pump the accelerator with his hand. ''You're alone, then . . . "
The car's engine tu rned over and ''Yes."
revved strongly. ''You want me to "I cou l d be t h e re i n ten
drive?" Thompson asked. m i n utes • . " .

Stand i ng i n the rain, with her wet "I can come get you . . . "
hair hanging i n d renched c l u m ps "I'l l wait . . . "
"
around her shou lders, Tessa shook "I'l l hurry . . . -r

Espionage 57
Illustration by Robert Spike
The
Foreign ·
Minister's
Brother by Stuart Symons

I
t all started like this. I was to kill a man and the
Foreign Minister wasn't to know abopt it. The
man I was to kill was the Foreign Minister's
brother. His name was Alfred Keating. His mistress,
it turned out, had been working all along for the East
Germans. And dear old Alfred had been giving her
our secrets. Anna Metz, that was her name, had
already gone over. At least one of our agents in
Vienna had heard she' had . Alfred had supposedly
' gone into hiding, but had been seen by the same
agent at the opera in Vienna. Foolish Alfred. Every
agent in the West looking for him and he attends the
opera. All of this, of course, according to C, who
had always hated the Foreign Minister, but evidently
hated his brother even: more. Personally, I didn't even
know the Foreign Minister had a brother.
But anyway, that's how it all started and that's
why, as soon as C had telephoned me and given me
the information, l had taken the first British Airways
flight to Vienna.
"Your Perrier, Mr. Coulter."
I took the glass from the pretty flight attendant
and drank a sip. I wanted a whiskey, but the doctor
had said, no more; if I wanted to live. Actually I
hadn't, until I had received C 's telephone call about.

Espionage 59
 Keating. But now, well . . .
The man across the aisle from me looked like an
Ameri_can businessman. He was working hard on an
. annual report . He was also drinking a whiskey and
it didn't seem to be bothering him. I tried to pre­
tend that the �errier was something else, but it didn't
work. I was just about to exchange it for a whiskey
when we hit an air pocket, spilling the American's
drink all over him . and his annual report . . That
imused me until we landed in Flughafen-Schwechat
outside Vienna 30 minutes later.
. Harris, my contact in Austria, met m·e .
"He's been seen again," he said. We were inside
his BMW and headed into the inner city. .
"Who?" I asked. I was looking absently at the
bleak winter scenes outside the car· window.
"Keating." He looked at me. ' 'Alfred Keating.
Whom did you think?"
"I know, I know. I was just wondering, do you
have any whiskey ? "
"Here.? You mean i n the car?"
"Yes," I said.
" No. No, I don't ."
"Too bad."
"At the hotel, perhaps. Won't that be soon
enough?" H� looked disgusted. "Why don't you get
out, Coulter? " he said . "You're tired."
' ' I 'm not ready," I said . ' ' I ' ll get out when I ' m
ready."

.
We rode the rest of the way in silence.
.

W
e were in my room at the Hotel Imperial.
·

I was lying on the bed . Harris was seated

in a chair next to me. I had one whiskey
under my belt, another on the way. Harris had a
disgusted look on his face, still , but at least he was
talking again.
"They're twins, you know," he said .
"No, I didn't know," I said. I took another sip of ·
whiskey. "I suppose you mean the Foreign Minister

60 Espionage
and his brother."
" Exactly." ·
He stood up, walked to the window, and looked
out. Then he opened it . The cold air covered me
on the bed. I could hear the sounds of the people
on the Karntnerring b�low. I wondered if Alfred
Keating was among them. I sat up.
" No, I actually didn't know they were twins," I
said. "In fact, I have to be honest with you. I didn't
even know the Foreign Minister had a brother until
C told me."
I noticed that Harris looked nervous.
"Most people don't," he said. He walked away
from the window· and sat down. "He has always
avoided public life."
"Yes, but surely . . . "
Harris interrupted me.
"It's just that the Foreign Minister cannot afford
a scandal at this particular point in his career, not
with the Labour Party boys breathing down his
neck.' '
''And C has decided that the best way to avoid this
is to do away with the Foreign Minister's brother?"
Harris went to the bathroom. In a minute, I heard
a flush, following by running water in the basin. He
came back into the room and sat down.
"That's about it," he said. It was as though he had
never left .
Then h e stood u p abruptly.
''We think he'll be at the opera again tomorrow
night. There's a performance of 'The Magic Flute.'
He has a special fondness for Mozart . Follow him
after he leaves. Kill him anywhere. Just make sure
he's dead."
"How will I recognize him ? "
"You haven't been listening, Coulter. H e and the
Foreign Minister are twins. You 'll recognize him."
Harris left. I stared at the door for a few minutes,
then drank the rest of the whiskey.
The service at the Hotel Imperial is superb. It

Espionage 61
 always has been, even in the old days. I had another
bottle of whiskey in my room in five minutes. In
another fifteen minutes, I was asleep.
I was shattered awake by the telephone - only
it stopped ringing. A wrong number. My heart was
pounding. It was dark. I listened carefully. But there
was only the sound of traffic on the Karntnerring.
And it was bitterly cold in the room. I got up to shut
the window. But standing there, looking out at the
city, it suddenly felt good. Instead of closing the
window, I opened it wider. Vienna. The secrets I
knew. The years when I had been on top. When they
called me first to do a job, because I was good. They
knew I was good. rd be good again.
I went back to bed and slept soundly.
The next morning, I ate breakfast, then took a
tram to the Prater, so I could ride the Riesenrad. I
had killed my first man in one of the box-like cars
of that huge ferris wheel. It was 1950. The man had
been supplying me with information about Soviet
operations in their sector of Vienna, but he was get­
ting scared. He was a minor official in their Ministry
of I nformation. He thought they knew about him. ·

He was sure he was being followed and he was afraid

they would send him to Siberia. He wanted to go
to London and wanted me to make all the arrange­
ments for him and his family. I can 't, I had said.
Nobody knows about you. It had been a shock to
him. He had thought all along that London knew
who he was. When he threatened to expose me, I
killed him and left him in the car. I heard somebody
scream when he was found, but I was already in the
crowd on the ground and gone. He was the first one.
Nobody knew about that one. The ones I 'd be told
to kill would come later.
I had the car completely to myself_ \Ve had
reached the top and had stopped. I could see
Stephansdom, the Danube, and the Vienna Woods.
I could almost hear the strains of a Strauss waltz .
Somewhere out there was Alfred Keating, eating,

62 Espionage
I
 drinking, making love - if he had found a new
mistress, and his kind usually did. Somewhere out
there he was living the last day of his life.
I went back to the hotel and slept through lunch .
Later, I found a small bookshop just off the
Karntnerring, bought a copy of Graham Greene's
Der Dritte Mann, The Third Man in English, and
sat down on a park bench and began reading it.
Years ago I had seen the ftlm and had been amazed
at how it had captured the mood of Vienna in the
late 40s. Those had been the good years, the good
years for me, the years when I had been on top. I t
was nothing like the city today
I watched the young couples strolling by arm-in­
arm, huddled together to feel each other and to keep
warm. They paid no attention to me. It was getting
colder. I turned up the collar to my coat and con­
.tinued to read.
On the walk back to the hotel, it suddenly oc­
·c urred to me that Keating might possibly not show
up. I started to sweat . He had to. He was my last
chance. But what if he didn't? What if he decided
to attend the opera some other night? Or not at all?
What if he had left Vienna already? I felt myself get­
ting sick. I had to have a drink.
I ate a light dinner. The whiskey had calmed my
nerves some, but I was still worried. I needed to be
given a chance to prove that I was still capable. I had
the chance now. Keating couldn't let me down.
Tonight had to be the night .
I sat in the lobby and read Neues Osterreicb
through twice. My hands were shaking and I felt
myself getting short of breath . I smoked two
packages of Gitanes. At 1 1 : 30 , I left the hotel and
walked to the corner of IGirntnerstrasse and the
Opernring and stood by the tram stop. I would be
able to see Keating leave the opera unnoticed. I
would follow him until we reached a dark area and
then I would shoot him, using the silencer. I didn't
like being so close when I killed people, because it

Espionage 63
 was messy. But I had to make sure that everything
went according to plan. I had to make sure he was
dead. This was it. In the morning, I knew I 'd be back
on top. It had all started in Vienna. It was fitting that
it should all begin again in Vienna, too.

e didn't show up. I waited until the trams

H stopped running, then walked back to the

hotel. My hands and legs were numb from
the cold. Damn him! Damn that Keating!
There was a bottle of whiskey on the stand beside
my bed. I had ordered it earlier for a celebration .
p
Now I used it to warm u and to kill the pains of
defeat.
Sleep came hard, but finally.

S
omeone was knocking at the door. I opened
my eyes. The sun from the open drapes
blinded me. The knocking continued. My head
was pounding. I stood up, walked unsteadily to the
door, and opened it. It was Harris.
"He's been seen in Berlin," he said. "They think
now that he'll try to go over that way. Clean up, get
dressed, and get something in your stomach besides
whiskey. I have you booked on the noon Austrian

.w
Airways flight to Berlin."

e hadn't even leveled off, but I needed to

go to the W.C. Mter Harris had left me this
· morning I had been sick. Of course, there
were a number of reasons why, but it was mostly
the realization that I 'd have another chance. It would
be easier in Berlin. I knew all the possible escape
routes into the East, routes that people like Keating
had counted on since The Wall.
� 'Are you all right, Herr Coulter? " It was the flight
attendant .
"Do you have any mineral water? It's my stomach.
I think it might help."
' ' I 'll get you some right away," she said.

64 Espionage
 We flew low over the city and landed at
Tempelhof. Willis, our agent in Berlin, met me.
"We've booked you into the Hilton," he said. "We
thought you'd like it there."
"Thanks," I said. "Where was he last seen? "
' ' Keating? ' '
"Whom did you think ? "
"Oh, yes, right. Well, i t was the u h . . . Cafe Stolz
in the Kiirfurstendamm . At least we think it was
Keating. After all, he and the Foreign Minister are
twins and the man looked like him."
After I had checked into the hotel, I walked to the
Cafe Stolz. It was a relatively new cafe. I sat down
and waited. Finally, a waiter came. .
"Bin Whiskey, bitte, , I said.
He left, returned, and I drank. I waited for Keating
through . four whiskeys, hoping that he would show
up again, but he didn't . Then I went back to my
hotel.
I lay for a while on the bed drinking whiskey.
Could Keating already be somewhere else, I
wondered? Did he know I was chasing him? Was it
a game he was playing with me? God, if I could only
talk to C and tell him how much I wanted to suc­
ceed. I think he'd understand . He had trained me.
He knew how good I had been. He must still have
some faith in me or he wouldn't have given me this
assignment .
I needed to talk to someone. I didn't want to talk
to Willis. He was young and the young ones hated
you. They were just like jackals, waiting for you to
fall and then they'd eat you alive. I tried to think .
Everyone I had known in Berlin was either dead or
retired to the Bahamas, left to rot in the uopics. If
I ever retired, I 'd go up north, to Stockholm, .
perhaps, or to Helsinki, but never to an island in the
Caribbean, left to sit around some hotel pool, with
a drink in my hand, turning brown.
The telephone rang. It was Willis.
"He has a meeting tonight," he said. "One of_my

Espionage 65
 contacts just told me. They think he's making ar­
rangements to go over, maybe even af�er the
meeting. It has to be tonight, Coulter."
God, I wanted to cry. Why wa,s· Willis doing this
for me?: My blood· was surging.
"Tell me the address," I said. I was finding it hard
to contain my excitement . To think that one of the
young ones was giving me my chance. I'd remember
Willis for this. ·I really · would. I wouldn't tell him
now. I didn't want him to think I was so desperate,
But I 'd remember. ·

" 2 1 Kochstr;tsse, apartment two, near The Wall.

Be careful. It's important, this job. Make the first shot
count, Coulter. Make sure he's dead." There was a
moment of silence. I was breathing heavily into the
phone. Then Willis added, "And Coulter, I know
how much this means to you. I really do." · .
"Thank you, Willis," · I said. .
I hung up the receiver. My hands were shaking.
I sat down on the bed. I needed a drink. I went to
. the hotel bar and had a couple of whiskeys. I felt
steadier, better than I had felt in a long time.
I left the hotel at midnight and walked ro
Kochstrasse. The apartment house at number 2 i was
one of the many that had been built hurriedly after
the war as temporary housing. Most of them were
·

still being used.

Apartment two was on the ground floor, at the
rear of the building. It had a garden, thick with
bushes and vines. Even leafless,. they offered a good
cover. I let myself in the gate. I tried a door. It was
locked. But the lock was old and easily broken. The
odor that hit me when I opened the door was of
expensive perfume. I was surprised, but excited. This
was it. I could hear voices faintly. I walked as softly
as I could, letting the voices direct me. I passed
through a kitchen and a sitting room . The voices
were coming from the bedroom . I opened the door
�lowly. In the dim light I could see a man and
woman lying naked on the bed. The man saw me

(,6 Espionage
 imrm!diately.
"What the hell . . . who are you . . . "
The woman covered herself and started to scream .
" Don't," I said. ''I 'll not harm you." I pointed my
gun. "It's him. I want. Stand up, Keating! "
He stood up beside the bed. It was incredible.
Alfred Keating and the Foreign Minister did look ex­
actly alike.
" Do you mind if I put my pants on, old man ? "
Keating said.
"Stay where you are! "
I continued to stare. I couldn't get over it.
"It's incredible, you know," I said. .
"What- is?"
"How much you look like your brother."
"What are you talking about?"
' ' I 'm talking about your brother, the Foreign
Minister."
"You obviously know I'm the Foreign Minister or
you wouldn't be here," he said sarcastically. "What
is it you want? Are you planning to blackmail me
because I have a German mistress?"
The man was laughing at me.
I could feel the sweat pouring off my skin. My
stomach was churning. I knew I should have had
· another drink before I came.
"I don't understand . I thought . . . "
"Get up, Anna," he said. "Get dressed." It was ob­
vious that he thought he was now in control of the
situation.
' 'Anna? ' ' I said. ' 'Anna Metz? "
"Yes," the woman said slowly. "How did you
know my name?" She turned and looked at Keating.
He was visibly shaken.
"Stay where you are, both of you," I said. "Where's
the telephone? "
Anna pointed to a table next to the bed . I picked
up the receiver and dialed C 's private number in
London.
"It's done," I said, when C answered. "He's dead."

Espionage 67
 There was a pause, then C said, "What are you
talking about, old man ? "
"The Foreign Minister's brother. He's dead."
There was another pause, then C said slowly, "We
need to talk, Coulter. We've been needing to talk for
a long time. You're tired . .You need out. Several of
your friends in the Bahamas have been asking about
you. Perhaps you'd like to visit them for a while. It
would help you make up your mind.' '
"I don't understand," I said. "I did what you asked
me to do."
"But Coulter," C said, "the Foreign Minister
·

doesn't hav� a brother."

"I see," I said, and hung up the receiver.
I turned to the Foreign Minister and Anna.
"Put on your Glotbes, botJ;l of you."
"I wish you'd explain what the hell is going on,"
the Foreign Minister said.
"I. shall," I said, "but first , would you happen to
· ·

have any whiskey in the house? " -r

Did you know ...

The telephone is one o f the easiest methods by which to .
· transmit information, but also one of the. least secure. Tactical
military formations frequently use radio-telephones for com­
munication, altho·ugh they and the enemy are well aware of the
·

value of eavesdropping.
To counteract this problem, a most ingenious and thoroughly
secure method of telephone security was developed by the United
States Marine Corps in the Pacific during WW I I . Near the end
of the war, the Corps had 420 Navaho Indians specifically assigned
to radio-telephone communications. Called "code talkers," they
. relayed messages in a combination of American slang, Navaho,
and military jargon. Navaho was chosen for its complexity (for
example "na ildil" means You are accustomed to eat plural
separable objects one at a time) and because only twenty-eight
people outside the tribe could understand it - none of whom
were Germans or Japanese!

68 Espionage
 © 1968 by jack Ritchie

h, how Nadia ·could run - like a gazelle, like an

A
hammer. .
antelope -. for at least ten seconds ; Mariska too.
For myself, I throw my weight around - which is the

On the upper deck of this Russian boat which travels to the

sports meet in the United States, I stand and eat a sandwich while
I watch these Russians at mass exercise, back and forth, right and .
left , and up and down.
It is not that we Hungarians do not exercise. It is simply that
we are more individual about this. We do not want a loud-voice
Espionage 69
on a platform telling us what i:o do - especially if it is in Russian.
I observe the women's group down below and the overwhelm­
ing number of sturdy legs, but Nadia does not have sturdy legs.
They are long and at a glance one sees that she can run and prob­
ably must, for she has lustrous black hair and violet eyes and
one thinks of the ballet rather than the cinder track.
Mariska appears at my side "You are watching Nadia again? "
she asked, "That Russian? "
Mariska is the fastest woman in all Hungary. This is true also
for events in Poland and Italy. However, in Western Germ-any and
France, she comes in second to· Nadia in the 100 meter dash .
It is obvious that Mariska is very j ealous of Nadia's running ­
fifty percent of the time, at least - and from the .narrowness of
her eyes, I have the feeling that in America they will settle this
once and for all .
"We should have defected i n Germany o r Fra nce," Mariska says.
·

"Or even Italy."

I shake my head. "No, Mariska. Since our ultimate goal is the

freedom of America, does it not pay to remain with the team un­
til it arrives there? In this manner we are assured free passage."
We become aware that Boris Volakov has moved beside us.
Boris is a most unpopular man. He is commissar for the, Rus­
sian team, plus in overall charge of the voyage. It is a rumor that
his unfavorable reports have caused the disappearance of one high­
j umper, one long distance runner, and one hop, skip, and j ump.
"You are attending the All-Nations Friendship Party on board
tomorrow night? " he asks.
With the Russians, we speak English . It is a beautiful language
and besides it irritates them.
"I am sorry," Mariska says, "but I am developing a cold."
"I have this trouble with my sinuses," I say. "This always re­
quires forty-eight hours for the cure."
Boris smiles like a shark and is not disturbed. " I have talked
to the leaders of all nationalities and they will see that medical
problems of that nature are cleared up by the time of the party.' '
70 Espionage
 He looks Mariska up and down. " I have always admired the
Hungarians. I have spent some time in Budapest."
"Oh?" Mariska says with great sweetness. "As a tourist?"
He clears his throat . " Not exactly." .
Now, on the deck below, the' exercises have come to a close and
the group is dismissed.
Boris excuses himself and walks toward the iron stairs which
lead to the lower decks.
Nadia looks up and sees that he is coming down. Very ·casually,
but firmly, she begins to walk away.
It is interesting to watch - from my height - this pursuit and
the evasion, this looking back over the shoulder, this increasing
of the pace, this series of sharp right and left turns around lifeb9ats
and funnels.
I study the situation and see · that eventually she is about to be
trapped - for Boris is tricky and foresighted.
"I think I will go downstairs," I say to Mariska.

She looks at me but says nothing.

I go down the stairs and after five minutes, manage to intercept
Nadia. "This way," I say, and take her arm.
"Oh ,". she says, " it is you again," for we have met and talked
before whenever I was able to create the opportunity.
She comes where I take her, which is to crouch behind a winch,.
and we wait . Soon Boris passes by, the yellow gleam of pursuit
still in his eyes.
·

Nadia takes a deep breath . "So far I have been saved by one thing
o'r another, but I am running out of miracles and excuses."
" Why are excuses even necessary? " I say. "Is not a simple 'no'
in his face enough ? "
_ She looks at me like I am a child. " Life i s not always that sim­
ple. Boris is a man of much influence."
' 1\. h yes," I say wisely. "I understand that he has sent three men
to Siberia."
She smiles, but tightly. " They were not men and they were not
sent to Siberia. We are no longer that primitive in the treatment
Espionage 7.1
 of our athletes. They were women who said 'no' and they were
simply dismissed from the team . Today they are teaching
calisthenics to pre-school children in Kandalaksha, which is j ust
beyond the Arctic Circle, but still in Europe." .
"Nadia," I say, "France is a nice country apd free - in a
capitalistic way, of course - and this is true also of Western Ger­
many and Italy. Why did you not seek asylum in one of these
places? It is unlikely that Boris would have continued pursuit ."
She shakes her head .' ' 'No. I could not do anything like that ."
"You have relatives in Russia? They would be liquidated? "
"We no longer liquidate relatives," she says stiffly. " However,
- I do not wish to leave the team. It is a great honor to be a member
and this I would not willingly give up."
I feel anger stirring. "So remaining on the team is of greater
importance than your honor? "
She looks frosty. "I would prefer to have both."
She thinks more on the subject of Boris. "He is the commissar

of the ath letes," she says bitterly, "but in his life he has yet to run
even one hundred meter dash. He is greedy and opportunistic.
He goes as the wind blows - whenever it is easiest, wherever he
has the most to gain for himself. This is how he has come to his
present position, after beginning as the custodian of uniforms.
Also, I think that in Russia he was a speculator in the black market,
but has always been too clever to be caught."
I rub my jaw. To me has come the expression that if a mountain
does not come to the Mohammedans, then it is necessary for the
Mohammedans to go to the mountain . " Do not despair," .! say, : · I .

will personally .work on this problem."

That evening in the dining room, I sit at Boris' table - which
is easy, for there is always room - and over tea I ask, ' ' Have you
·

ever been to New York? "

"No,"· Boris says. "I know nothing about America except that
the poor are exploited by the rich."
" How true," I say, and then sigh . "It is unfortunate, but I will
not be able to visit my cousin Stephen when we arrive there. He
72 Espionage
 is one of these rich exploiters.".
Boris is interested. " Rich? But why can you not go see him ? "
I smiled sadly. "Because h e i s a defector and as a loyal member
of the party, I certainly would not want to be seen in his presence.
He fled from Hungary two years ago."
Boris' mind fastened on one point . "A rich defector? Before he
defected, did he somehow manage to - ah � transfer money to
some Swiss bank? Hm? "
"No," I say. "When Stephen arrived in America, he was
penniless.' '
Boris thinks on this too. "He 'defected but two years ago, but
today he is rich? "
I nod. "He has a large estate in Hoboken, a swimming pool,
two limousines, three mistresses, and eight horses."
Boris is impressed. "Three? But how did this all happen?"
"It is all the responsibility of his agent , who has the strange
American name of John Smith . This John Smith has Stephen's ex-

periences written into a book which has become a best seller. And
al_so it will soon be made into .a motion picture in which Stephen
will hold a percentage.' '
Boris is puzzled. "But there are tens of thousands of defectors.
Surely not every one of them could write a book and expect to
make so much money ? "
" O f course not," I say. " But Stephen was a n important man
· behind the Iron . . . " ·I clear my throat, " . . . in our country. He was
a commissar overseeing the Fejer Building Institute. Perhaps you
have heard of his book? I Was a Commissar for the F.B. I. ? "
Boris frowns. ' 'It i s somehow vaguely familiar.' '
"People are extremely interested in Stephen," I say. " There is
a shortage of commissars in America, for not many of them defect .
They know when they have it good."
Boris agrees. "Good, yes. But riches, no." He looks very casual.
· "This John Smith agent, where does he live, this capitalist pig ? "
" "In Chicago at a place called State Street . Probably his name ·

is in the telephone book."

Espionage 73
 When I rise to leave, Boris is still thinking about my cousin
Stephen, who does not exist.
The night of the Friendship Party there comes a thick fog upon
the ocean and it is necessary for the ship to slow almost to a halt
and blow its horns often, Even so, we almost run into other ships,
for we are now near New York and · the traffic lanes are heavy.
In the dining room, I find that Nadia, Mariska, and I have been
assigned to Boris' table.
He talks hardly at all . Mostly he is preoccupied and he drinks
a ·good deal . .
It is a yawning evening until ten when there is trouble in the
bar among the united Czechoslovakians. The Czechs and the
Slovakians begin to fight and the Ruthenians watch and smile.
When order is restored, I notice that Boris has left his previous
thoughts and is now looking at Nadia.
His voice is thick with the drink. "Nadia, let us, you and I, walk
about the deck."

"No," Nadia says. "The fog is bad for my throat."

"You are not a singer," Boris snaps and then glares at her.
"How would you like to teach calisthenics to pre-school
children? "
The band strikes up with dance music and I immediately sweep
Nadia upon the floor.
"Nadia," I say, "this is not the moment to spill the soup in the
ointment . You must cooperate with Boris for the time being."
She is shocked. "You, of all people, to say that? "
I explain hastily. ' 'I mean only for this walk on the foggy deck.
You can cpme to no harm, for I think that he has drunk too much
to be dangerous. I even wonder whether. he can still walk at all."
She studies me. "Just what are you up to, Janos ?"
I smile. "I have a clever plan and I will tell you when it works.
I have the feeling that soon you will never see Boris again."
When we return from the dance, Nadia is more friendly and
soon she and Boris rise and move toward the door. He walks much
better than I anticipate and so I begin to worry.
74 Espionage
 Finally I too rise and walk · out into the fog . I hesitate. . Where
have they gone? To the right or to the left? I listen, but I hear
nothing�
I turn to the right and after a dozen steps I bump into two peo­
ple who are much close together. I recognize the man as a Czech
high-jumper and the woman as a Rumanian gymnast, which is
bad politics at the present time, but they do not seem to care.
" Pardon," I say. " Did anyone pass this way recently? "
The man peers into my face and i s relieved that I a m not a com­
missar. "No," he says. "Not that we notice."
I go in the opposite direction, bumping into objects occasionally
and listening. All I hear is the groan of horns near and far, ·a nd
when there is no horn noise, it appears that I am· in a vacuum
of silence. I think that I may have taken tQe wrong direction after
all , but then I hear the commencing of a scream . It is muffled by ·

the fog and yet I feel that it is near.

I press on immediately" and after only twenty feet I come upon

Boris and Nadia, and I see that he is considerably less drunk than
I had thought. When I see what could be impending, fury springs
into my blood and I forget all about Mohammedans and their
mountains. I spring forward shouting a nationalist war cry.
Boris is C<?nsiderably surprised by my entrance out of the fog,
but h� becomes even more so .when I immediately grasp him by
one arm and one leg and swing him in a circle. . .once. . . twice. . . and
then I let go. ·
It was a great fling , perhaps a world's record for this type of
event . Boris and his scream fly through a thin patch in the fog
and over the ship's rail . ·
Nadia joins me as we look into the swirling white gray, which
hides the water.
" Was this your clever plan ? " she asks.
" No," I say sadly. "There is many a slip between the cup and
the ship.' '
We are now silent and I try to think . about this predicament .
" Nadia," I finally say, " I will surrender myself and confess. I
Esiponage 75
 will say that you were not even here. It was a personal quarrel."
" Nonsense," Nadia says. "Since no one has rushed here, evi­
dently the fog muffled his scream and he was not heard. We will
simply walk away. Boris just disappeared and we know nothing
about it at all."
" But you were seen leaving the ballroom with him," I say.
"There will be questions asked. And there is no Supreme Court
to throw out the confession that will inevitably follow."
Nadia offers another idea. "We will say it was an accident which
we both witnessed. Boris slipped and fell overboard ."
I shook my head. "I do not think we will be believed. It is
generally established that commissars do not meet death by
accident."
We .are silent again and then I sigh . " Nadia, I do not worry for
.
· myself. If no one heard the scream, I do not think that Boris will
be missed before tomorrow and we will have arrived in New York
by then. Freedom is but a le'ap or dash beyond."

She is wide-eyed . "You are going to . defect? ''

"Yes," I say. " We have planned upon this for a long time."
The wide eyes · become narrow eyes. " We? Who is we? "
"Mariska and 1 ."
Her lips tighten. It is strange how these women athletes are so
jealous of each other's ability to run . Among men , there is more
sportsmanship. �

' 'America is a big country," I say. "It is big enough for two run­
ners of excellence."
"I doubt this," she says, but sighs. " However, I do not think I
.
'
have much of a choice."
We arrive in clear weather at the Port of New York the next
morning. Soon we descend the gangplank while the ship's
loudspeaker calls out for Boris to report to his contingent .
There is a rumor - which Nadia and I have started - that Boris
has drunk too much and fallen asleep in some corner of the ship.
We step without trouble onto American soil and are taken to
the hotel. ·
76 Espionage
 I would have preferred to participate in the sports meet before
defecting - as would Nadia and Mariska - bu� to postpone our
defecting could possibly be fatal . So at the first opportunity, the
three of us join and find the nearest police station and declare
ourselves to be political refugees.
It is something I have never regretted, and three months later -
. at my 'Yedding - I see Beta, a pole vaulter on our team who also
defected, but after the meet . Evidently he has heard that I was
-
to marry and wished to attend the event.
We shake ha�ds and h� smiles. "So it was you who threw Boris
overboard," he says. ·

Perhaps I pale a bit, for if this is made public information, I

am ruined. The Americans would not shield a murderer, even if
the victim is a Russian. "Did you witness the event? " I asked
quickly.
He shakes his head . "No. But I have just heard that Boris himself
maintains that this happened."

I blinked. "Boris Volakov is alive?"

Bella smiles. "You tossed him overboard just as a small freighter
. glidep past in the fog, and Boris landed unnoticed on the canvas
top of a lifeboat . The length of the fall however, rendered him
unconscious for perhaps a half hour."
I take a breath of relief.
Bela continues. "When Boris awoke and ascertained that he was
alive and on another ship, he rushed immediately to the captain
on the bridge and announced that he was declaring himself a
political refugee who wished to remain in the west , and he also
wanted to send swiftly a radiogram to a Mr. John Smith of State
Street , Chicago."
· I sighed. "So Boris is now in America?"
Bela smiled again . "No. Unfortunately for Boris, the ship upon
which you tossed him turned out to be a Russian freighter."
It was a successful wedding. I was handsome and Nadia, my
bride, looked beautiful.
· The maid of honor, of course, was Mariska , my sister. -+
Espionage 77
H
e had been captured the rught before, a
. young man on a mission of intrigue. On his
person was a Yale diploma and a map outlin­
ing British military strength on Long Island . The
diploma suggested that he was who he said he was,
a loyalist school teacher fleeing revolutionary
Connecticut . The map sald,otherwise. On the morn­
ing of September 2 2 , 1776, he was hanged on
Manhattan Island, sentenc�d without trial for spy­
ing on the British . His prostrate body dangled for
three days - testimony to British will . His last
words were recorded by a British sergeant : "I only
regret that I have but one life to lose for my country."
N a t h a n H al e was reared i n C o nventry,
ConnecticuL He entered Yale at the age of fourteen,
where he studied the classics. He also found t ime
to become an accomplished wrestler and .member
of the debating society. He debated with fellow spy
and patriot , · Benjamin Tallmadge, at their com­
mencement' . After graduation, Hale took on the posi­
tion of teacher of classical languages at the Union
Grammar School in New London, Connecticut .
News of the battles at Lexington and Concord
reached New London on April 2 0 , 1775 . That night,
at a town meeting; Hale rose to speak. Addressing
his fellow townsfolk with emotion and conviction,
he argued not only that they should aid their
brethren in Massachusetts - the popular concensus
and their subsequent action - but called for in­
dependence as well. ' 'Let us march at once and never
lay down our arms until independence is won."
Hale remained at the school until the clear call of
78 Esp ionage
by joe Lewis

. .
..·

duty beckoned him into the army. With charac­

teristic deference to duty and service, Hale ex­
plained, "School-keeping is a business of which I
was always fond . .I have· thought m uc h of never
.

quitting it but with life ; but at present there seems

ail opportunity for more extensive public service."
Nathan H ale left for the war that summer, and re­
mained a member of various rebel militias for over
a year. As enthusiastically as he might h ave served,
however, Hale failed to see any action of conse­
quence. Still he would hear another call to service
in New York in the summer of 1776, and once again
E s p ionage 79
 commit himself to duty.
During the weeks preceding the eventual fall of
New York that summer, General Washington grew
increasingly frustrated at the lack of military in­
telligence available to him, and at the corresponding ·
wealth of information the British seemed to be
gathering. In a letter to his commanders, Washington
outlined the need for an intelligence network of
some sort . ' 'As everything in a way depends on ob­
taining intelligence of the enemy's movements, leave
no stont; unturned, nor do not stick at any expense,
as I was never more uneasy than on account of my
want for knowledge on this score."
Washington's words fell on Hale's ears. Hale
wrestled with the decision to become a spy for
several days. The role was one of dubious honor in
the eyes of many, but Hale overcame the hurdle. Ex­
plaining his motives · to a friend, . who counseled
against his decision, he said, "For a year I have been
. attached to the army, and have not rendered any
material service. I wish to be useful, and every kind
of service, necessary to the public good, becomes
honourable by being necessary. If the exigencies of
my country demand a peculiar service, its claims to .
perform that service are imperious."
Despite this testimony of devotion to his country,
Hale would nonetheless be deprived of ' 'rendering
any material serv,i ce.' ' His mission took him. across
Long Island Sound, to Huntington Bay, where he was .
to spy on the British. He was detected early, as he
made his way across the Sound, and thereafter
trailed. He was captured after he had collected some
bits of information - before they could be passed
on - and brought to Manhattan where he was hung.
His career as a spy lasted a total of six days.
A fmal note about those last words for which Hale
is famous. Hale appeared to have been quoting from
Cato, speaking as he views his dead son, Marcus.

How beautiful is death when earned by virtue.

Who would not be that youth? What pity it is
that we can die but once to serve our country. -+
80 Espionage
I
t was a week since Harry Rogers m i n i rock opera describing l ife w ith
had assigned h i s precocious . h is two computer expert parents.
. students the topic for the i r · Everyone i n the Advanced Arts
semester project: My Family. Class was worki n g thei r socks off to
They were to use the i r proven triumph over all others to win the ap- ·

talents in any way they chose, to i n­ proval of the i r charm in g i nstructor.

terpret the i r fee l in gs about the i r Everybody except Tom my Roebuck.
fam i l ies. Cindy james was a l ready L i ke all students at the Hal l mark
worki n g on a bal let that centered Private Academy, his I .Q. was gen ius
around her widowed mom and two level. At twelve, he already displayed
younger sisters. Clarence Pigeon, a signs of becoming an extraord i nary
m usical prod igy, was composing a photog!apher. What he could do
Espionage 81
 with a simple Polaroid camera was I really want to do:'
u ncan ny; he had won second place Harry leaned forward. His face
i n the Washington Post's Amateu� was warm with compassion . '�nd
Photographer Contest last year, sub­ what's that, Tommy?"
m itti n g a picture of his cat, Tiger, Eagerly, the boy pou red out his
prepar i n g to attack an unsuspecti n g complaints. Dr. Orville Roebuck
robi n . would not permit his son to eat
But Tommy was not doing any­ candy or cookies or Big Macs - or
thi n g on his project and did n ot dri nk Cokes. Worse ·still, the scien­
show any signs of being in prepara­ tist would not allow a television set
tion . H i s work area was a j u mble of i n side the Roebuck household.
books and posters of rock stars and Television caused bra i n rot, he said.
there were no indications of creative He didn't mind a radio or a record
endeavor. When the bell rang that player. But n ot a boob tube.
afternoon, the teacher asked Tommy Tommy's eyes watered as he added
to stay behind. with a sigh: "I can't even watch the
Harry leaned back i n his chair and rock videos. That's where all the kids
put his hands behind his head. "Hey, have gone now; to somebody's
buddy, what's wrong, huh? Some­ house to watch the Top 40 Videos.
th i n g bugg i ng you? Come on, They come on every day at five:'
Tommy, you can teH me. I'm your "Look;' began Harry Rogers. "I'm
fr iend:' really sorry to hear all this, Tommy.
J ust as the teacher was handsome, I understand what you're going
wi tty, articu late and beloved by through, buddy, but you can't let that
students and fatu ity, Tommy was stop you from worki n g on your pro­
thi n, frail, and anonymous though ject. You're a won derful photog­
his red hai r was slicked up i nto rapher. That's w�y I let you into my
greasy spikes in a brave attempt to class. A lot of kids would give the i r
look "punk:' That was the big look eyeteeth t o b e where you are . . . but
at Hallmark: New Wave, Punk, you've not done anything. All you
Tough. Not yet teenagers, they need to do is push a button and,
startled even the sophisticated Harry snap, you've got a picture of your
•

Rogers when he overheard parts of family:'

their chatter. It was always about sex, "Mom's dead. Died a year ago of
drugs, rock, and videos. cancer:''
N ow, the s t u de n t's m o u t h "Sorry, I forgot. Then get pictures
tightened a s he studied the teacher's of your father. He has an office at
man icured nails. His own were bit­ home, doesn't he? Tommy, we want
. ten to the qu ick. "It's my dad. a creative record of your family life.
He . . . we . . . don't hit it off so Your father, your cat, your . . . "

good. He won't let me do anything "Dad's a twerp!" H i s snort was an

Espionage 83

I l l ustration b y Aries
heroic attem pt to sound tough. It space travel, terrorism and pop
d idn't qu ite come off. cultu re.
Ha rry Rogers was gen u i nely Watch i n g h i m, the teacher made
amazed at this statement. '1"ommy! a decision. "Okay, I'l l tel l you what.
You r father's a famous scientist. He We'l l make a deal. It's nearly five. You
hel ped get the space shuttle off the can watch the Top 40 Videos, if -
ground:' and I repeat, if - you bring i n some
T h e boy p u s hed t h e t i p of h i s pictures tomorrow of you r home l ife.
Adidas covered foot against the desk. S ince it's just you and you r father,
"Him and those old rockets. That's all show h i m at work:'
he does. Work on space ships. And Tom my was h u rryi n g over to the
now there's that new space th i n g set. ''Yeah, okay, I'll do it, but let's
a n d . . . oops!" Tom my covered h i s get to the videos. M ichael Jackson's
mouth. H is eyes widened i n fright. supposed to be on today."
''You won't tel l anybody I said that,

T
w i l l you ? That's real confidential! he Polaroid shots Tom my
Nobody's· supposed to know any­ brought i n the next day were
thing about it:' superb. Harry Rogers stud ied
Harry smiled. "Calm down, buddy. them intently after Tommy had taped
I ' won�t say anyth i ng. But I . . . I · them into h i s project scrapbook. I n
thought he'd reti red from NASA . . one, a b i g tabby cat snoozed o n a
Seems l i ke I read something about window si l l . I n another, a . h usky
h i m leaving the space project last looking man, probably i n h i s late
'
year.' thirties, sat slumped in h i s chai r
Tom my sh rugged h i s narrow befo re a l a rge d e s k . I n t h e
shou lders. He seemed rel ieved the background was a h uge map of the
teacher had taken it so l ightly. ''Yeah. world. The · com position of the set­
G uess so. I can't say anyth ing about ting and the l i ghting were excel lent.
that. It's confidential:' "Daddy d idn't wan't me to shoot
H e was looking at the big Sony h i m at h i s desk;' Tommy gri n ned.
color TV set over in the corner. Mr. "Says he's worki n g on something
Rogers kept it so h i s class could really top secret l i ke I said. He d id n't
watch special events, l ike the at­ know I got th is. He l i kes to drink a
tempted assassi nation of President lot after supper.'
Reagan, or a special session of Con­ The art i nstructor expressed great
gress. Sometimes, he showed h i s concern . "Good Lord, Tom my, we
pup i l s Our Gang comedies. It was a don't want you r father getting mad
fasci nating sociological com parison: at us. Of cou rse you don't want to
the Depression kids of the T h i rties, p h otogra p h anyt h i n g · h i gh l y
with their ideas of fun, versus those classified. He m ight be worki n g oh
bf today, steeped in an ambiance of a new space craft or sate l l ite or a
84 Espionage
 ti me mach ine or a flying saucer. Tom my's i n one of h is bad moods,
Who knows? ha, ha, ha . . . you'll have to excuse
"Sti l l . . . wouldn't it be wonderfu l h i m :'
to look back from some futu re date "How . . , if you cou ld, h<>W would
and trace a whole year of one's l ife you get even with h i m, Tom my?" the
th rough a particu lar work project?;' teacher asked qu ietly. "Uh oh, if
H is father wou ld be proud of h im, you're thinking of trying to sneak
the teacher pointed out. into his confidential fi les, you'd bet­
The boy's face looked u n usua l l y ter forget it. You aren't the Hardy
o l d i n the fad ing l ight of the Boys, you know. Try it and you'd
classroom. "He's always mad at me. really get our you-know-whats i n a
'Tommy do this. Tommy do that; " he s l i n g:'
m i m icked. "He's mean a lot of ti mes, Tommy laughed. It changed h i s
too; not funny and n ice l i ke you are. whole appearance. Sudden ly, he
Always correctin g me . . . I wish I looked very b9yish, i mpish, l i kable.
was grown-up; ooy I'd show him! Boy "Can I catch the videos, now?" he
I'd sure l i ke to get even with h i m :' asked. H is i nstructor eagerly gave his
Harry Rogers sighed and l it a perm ission .
cigarette. He recal led "Family N ight;' Wh ile "Cu lture C l u b'' was on,
wh ich Hal l mark School held at the Harry s l i pped the boy a S n ickers
beg i n n i n g of the school year. It gave candy bar and a Coke. Before he left,
the facu lty a chance to meet the Tommy agai n adopted a tough guy
parents of a l l their bright, young swagger. He even pu l led up the col- ·

charges, some of whom wou ld go lar of his den i m jacket. "Dad's always
on to make names for themselves. A tel l i n g me I've got a lot to learn . I'm
sizable portion wou l d van ish into real ly gon na su rprise h i m :'
suburbia, of course, never to display

C
bri l l iance again, and a smal ler group hoosing h i s words carefu l ly,
wo u l d · e n d u p d ru g ad d i cts, the young teacher spoke into
alcohol ics and su icides. Bei n g a the phone that n ight. He in­
gen i u s didn't necessari ly equ i p one formed his New York contact that
for the real ities of l i fe. the fi rst entre had been made into
Sociabil ity was riot one of Dr. t h e gro u p . i--l e had act u a l
Roebuck's strong points. Extremely photographs of a friend at home -
shy, sweating profusely, his sensitive wh ich d idn't show m uch - "but it's
dark eyes peered out through thick, a start."
black-rim med glasses, never leaving . I nfi ltrating the ''Brainy Dozen" -a
h i s equally i l l-at-ease son . "Shake gro u p of twe l ve bri l l iant
hands with Mr. Rogers, son . . . don't a e ro n a u t i c a l sc i e n t i sts - h ad
act l ike a block of wood . . . say become an obsession for foreign
thank -you for the comp l iment . . . agentS l i ke Harry Rogers. These men
Espionage
·8 5
were responsible for the spectacu lar chums to try to i n fi ltrate the B rainy
success of America's space shuttle, Dozen (through Dr. . Roebuck), con­
The Columbia. Strong evidence and tacted ch iefly because he had
intense rumor indicated that the become an extremely popu l a r
B rainy Dozen were embarked on an teacher. It was time for h i m to stop
even more ambitious project: the bei n g a theorist, he was told, and to
creation of a su per sate l l i te, a Flash put h i s convictions into practice.
Gordon type vehicle that wou ld ac­ There was sh rewd logic at work
tually be an arsenal of m i ssi les, laser h ere. Of a l l the members of the
beam driven cannons and other in­ Brainy Dozen, Orvi l le Roebuck was
credible weapons that were remin is­ considered the most vulnerable. He
cent of the Star Wars and Star Trek was � desperately lonely man who
movies. had never recovered from the death
D r. Orvil le Roebuck was a key of h is wife. Consequently, he had
member of the B rainy Dozen . It was sh ut h i mself off from Tommy, as
strongly bel ieved that he was the wel l . On ly he, h i s so·n, a cat, and a
spark plug of the whole group. part-time housekeeper lived i n their
one-story house on the outski rts of

A
s a school b9y in England, Was h i n gton .
H arry Rogers h ad been T h e portra i t pai n ted o f the
obsessed with growing up vu l nerable Dr. Roebuck showed the
and becom ing the social istic james fol lowi n g: he was a fiend for work,
Bond - fightin g the good fight preferring to do most of h i s work i n
against the capitalistic evi l s of the the office he'd built at home, despite
West. At Oxford, he had qu ickly admon itions from h i s superiors, and
d iscovered and become part of a he was a tyrant. He wanted things
passionate band - of young com­ done h is way - God help those
m u n i sts, several of whom - went in­ who refused to toe the l i ne!
to espionage work i n h ighly public H a r ry Rogers used h i s con­
jobs, becoming teachers, journalists s i d e ra b l e c h arm and gen u i n e
and tour guides. . teaching record to secure a position
Harry was fasci nated by the dual i n the small progressive school
careers of h is old cron ies, who where Tom my Roebuck was en­
managed to l ive very wel l on secrets rol led. The position had become
stolen from the U n ited States and avai lable as t�e result of a tragic- car
paid for by the comm u n i sts. He accident in which the young woman
often toyed with the idea of becom_­ who had previously taught the Ad­
i n g a "spy," but it wasn't unti l he was vanced Arts class had perished. _

teaching school i n Wash i n gton H a r ry · was won d e rtu l w i t h

D.C. that it became feasi ble. He c h i l d ren and quickly became an
was u rged by some of his old school asset to the school.
86 Espionage
 .

T
he Hall mark Private School several gin and ton ics before their
encou raged a strong i nterac­ meal and drank nearly a bottle of
tion between facu lty and wine before d i n ner was completed.
parents: to reach the students, one Afterwards, he consumed two more
needed to know the i r progen itors. gin d ri n ks.
Rarely a week passed that fi rst Harry was delighted. The dru n ker
autumn that Harry Rogers was not Dr. Roebuck became, the easier it
i nvited to d inner at the residence of wou ld be to assess what was really
a student. He was a favorite with all going on here at home - and to
of them. The elegant blond man · learn, perhaps, if the �cientist really
fl i rted harm lessly with the mothers, was working on a project that had
and the fathers were flattered to find agents everywhere abuzz.
someone who hung on to their every Harry outd id h i mself, tel l in g .
word. He made everyone feel good stories and anecdotes, causing even ·

and h i s easy lqugh cou ld always their nervous faces to break out i nto
l ighten even the d u l lest of occasions gri ns and then into laughs. Then
w ithout causing offense. after eating, when father and son
gave thei r l ively visitor a brief tou r
For obvious reasons, he was
o f the house and they came to the
sincerely th ri l led when Tom my in­
study, Harry Rogers paused in the
vited him home for d i n ner. It was
doorway, closed h is eyes in mock
one month after the Advanced Arts
concentration, and said, "Aha! Here ·
class had begun and two weeks after
I can sense the heartbeat of the
Tom my had begun taking photo­
household; the secret chamber of
graphs of the Roebuck "home l i fe:'
Dr. Orv i l le Roebuck."
Harry had deepened h is relationship
This was exactly the right th ing to
with h i s student by spend i n g time
say. fli is host sm i led dryly and
with h i m; talking, l isten i n g, sharin g
Tommy grin ned,. and the th ree of
h is increased fondness for video
them entered the c l uttered cubicle.
taped m usic and j unk food, both of
Tommy sat down on the floor and
them ga i n ing a pound or two.
began traci n g a piece of twine i n a
It was painfu l ly obvious that n ight circle. H i s big tabby cat, Tiger,
that both father and son were on j u m ped and whi rled i n· an attempt
their best behavior for Harry Rogers. to catch it. The men sat at the large,
Tom my's usually h ideous spikes of cluttered desk, next to pictures on
greased hai r looked less jagged than the wal l of Dr. Roebuck and others
expected and he wore a wh ite s h i rt w i ldly whooping and laugh ing and
and a black tie. H i s father, w h i le ex­ drinking from bottles of champagne.
tremely bashfu l, d id try to, make H is host explained that this was the
small tal k, although Harry was quick occasion of the successfu l land ing of
to note that h i s host gu l ped down The Columbia after its fi rst mission.

Espionage 87
 A second photograph showed the brush you r teeth. And don't try
tri u m phant astronauts h uggi n g reading under. the qui lts. You go to
Orvi l le Roebuck, who was sur­ sleep:" .
rounded by several other scholarly Tommy looked shocked. "Dad,
looking men. Harry counted them. tomorrow's Saturday! Mr. Rogers is
E leven. The B rainy Dozen. Roebuck here! G i m me a break!"
was in the center· and was making Harry thought the man really over­
a ''V" for victory sign . reacted when his face turned purple
''You were really young when you and he bel l owed out: "I said go to
reti red from the space program," bed! Now, move ass, son !"
Harry said, bl untly. The alcohol he'd The visitor was startled by th is ex­
drunk had loosened h is tongue more treme change of mood, but he was
than us;u al, but he sensed he was joyous, too. Tommy wou ld be a
saying the right th ing. . pushover. Who wouldn't want to get
Orv i l le Roebuck looked away even with such a damned old
from h i m and studied a row of fi les · SOI.J rpuss.
agai nst the wal l . H is words were B unching up h i s mouth into a
th ick when he spoke: ''True, true. fu rious moue, Tommy sku lked out
Pressu re's terrible. Everybody thinks of the r<;>om. With in seconds, a door
you've got it made when you sit slammed somewhere down the hall'.
beh i nd a desk l i ke th is and just doo­ En raged by th is, the father l u rched
·d le and draw things and write th ings out of h i s chai r and half staggered
down . But it takes so damned much out of the room. ''That boy's gonna
out of you r brain . . . I'm doing con­ get it," he s.lu rred.
sulting work now. Lots easier. The m i n ute he was gone, Harry
- Money's good." Rogers went into action � He l ifted
L iar, thought the guest, but he the fi les and newspapers that lay
sm i led and nodded his head in strewn on the desk. Beneath them
understand ing. Tommy lay on his was a sight that both stu nned and
. back with the cat stretched across e x h i l arated h i m : b l u e p r i n ts of a
his chest. The boy was either off in space craft amid myriad tightly writ­
another world or concentrating on ten comments· and formu las. When
their conversation . It was hard to tel l Dr. Roebuck re-entered the room
which. This was a dead place to . several m in utes later, however, he
grow up in, Harry thought. And no
·
found the teacher studying the
television. photographs on the wall and sipping
An old grandfather clock in the his drink. He was humming and ap­
hal lway struck n i ne. Dr. Roebuck peared to be thorough ly enjoying
looked down at Tommy, as if he'd h imself.
j ust real ized he was in the room. "Hate to say it, Mr. Rogers," the
''Tommy, off to bed now. And father muttered, "but that boy of
H8 Espior,age
m i ne is gonna be one hell of a prob­ he does best. He's supposed to be
lem someday." a scientist. Make h i m look l i ke one.".
Tommy looked at h i m sharply. "I

D
ays later, the "problem" was mean . . . I mean, get h i m bending
s itting on the edge of . the over some fi les, get him to spread
teac h e r's desk. The them out on the desk. I don't mean
classroom was otherwise e m pty anythi n g Top Secret or confidential
although signs of creative endeavor but . . . "
were everywhere. A clay world "I read 'em sometimes," Tom my
composed of one student's parents, said qu ietly. H is grin was cocky and
even brothers and sisters, reached proud. He wiped h is chocolate­
toward the ceil ing, and Cindy James' stained fin gers on his blue jeans and
bal let backdrop was propped against threw the wrapper into the trash can.
a wal l . Metal figures and paintings ''You . . . you what, Tom my?"
were stacked or resti n g on avai lable Tommy dug for a morsel of candy
su rfaces. caught somewhere in h i s right
Tommy was guzz l i n g a Coke and cheek. "I know how to get 'em . He
gobb l i n g down a Sn ickers candy h ides the keys in secret places but
bar - courtesy of his teacher. Ha(ry me and Tiger, we know where they
Rogers was study i n g the new are."
Polaroid shots Tom my had brought Harry shook h i s head and acted
in that morni ng: Tiger was shown flabbergasted - w h i c h he was.
j umping into the air to catch a ''Tommy, I'm sorry but I simply can't
scarlet leaf, the housekeeper sl iced bel ieve you . Those are top secret
potatoes into a - big pot on the stove, documents; I'm sure. No one can
and Dr. Roebuck stood with h i s see those."
back to the camera. He wa.s looking The boy's face tightened. "I'l l show
at a group of symbols he'd written you . I'l l take a picture of them
on h i s blackboard. Harry com­ and . . . "
p l imented h i s student, and noted a Harry Rodgers closed h i s eyes
q u ick flash of shrewdness, of cun­ tight. "No. You'l l do nothi n g of the
n ing, fl icker i n the boy's eyes. I t was kind. I'l l give you something else to
so u nusual, so brief that Harry do, Tom my. I thought you could
wondered if he had actual ly seen it. handle th is assign ment but I rea�l y
"Dad d idn't hear me take th is one. don't think you can . You fantasize
He l i kes to play his records fu l l blast too much. Nobody can do what you
sometimes. Listens to a lot of Bach ." j ust said you cou ld do." Harry
Harry pretended to be i n terested scolded the boy - and held h i s
in a pile of paper clips near his hand. breath!
''Tom my, you know you rea l l y The next day, Tom my came u p to
haven't gotten your Dad doing what h i m after class, hands ful l . Harry
Espionage 89
 T
glanced at new Polaroid shots he'd ommy ai med h i s camera at
brought in and then put them into the documents spread across
Tommy's project fi le. ''Very good, the top of his father's desk,
Tommy. They look fine. I'll look at · pausing to shift the lamp so that the
them more closely when I have a l ight would reveal everything. There
few minutes. You know, you're mak­ were drawings of a space engine,
i n g the best progress of anybody in and there were specific explanations
the class." on how to get the craft into outer
Tommy didn't seem i nterested i n space. The youthfu l photographer
th is comp l iment. He was already pushed the button on h i s Polaroid.
moving toward the television set. A square of glossy, thick paper slid
"Can I watch Top 40 Videos now?" out.
"Of course, buddy, of course!" He tu rned and gave the photo­
Harry cried. "And I'l l sli p you a Coke graph to h i s father, who stood
and candy bar if you promise you behind h i m, along with two· other
won't tel l on me." m e n . O n e was d ressed as a
"It's a dea l ." deliveryman and the other as a
jan itor. "Okay?" Tommy asked.

H
arry's contact i n New York, Orvi l l e Roebuck stud ied it for a
at Harry's u rging, flew into minute. Then he smi led and stooped
Wash ington that n ight. He down to give his son a big hug. "It's
was dumbfounded by all that the great, Marlon Brando. Now go into
novice agent had ach ieved. Among the kitchen and check the fridge. I
the Poloroid pictures presented to got you a l ittle surprise. You've earn-.
h i m was one that showed a meta l ed i�
fi le bearing the words: TOP SECRET. After he left, the trio of men
Another showed a diagram of a poured coffee and sat around the
space veh icle. And a th i rd was the desk. The deliveryman, a husky
pictu re of Dr. Roebuck's blackboard Panaman ian, pu l led out a smal l
covered with mathematical sym­ notebook. "Harry's plan n i n g to pass
bols, partially blocked by his body. th is pictu re to Misha tomorrow
The pictures didn't show much n ight, after he gets it from Tommy.
detail, yet they proved beyond a Central Park, New York. We' l l be .
doubt that the scientist was working there. We'l l get them both.
on someth ing new. It was a break­ "Good thing you recogn i zed
through. Harry explained to his con­ Harry from Oxford, O rv, arid .
tact that it wou ld be si mple to get remembered h i m so wel l . We'd
into the house and go through Dr. never have been able to anticipate
Roebuck's fi les . . . if n ecessary. h i m, otherwise, and we'd have
With a l ittle encouragement, the m issed out on this particular l ittle
man's own son m ight help. group altogether. Thanks." -r
90 . Espionage
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 H
al Stevens strode across the secret was locked .in h is head and
din ing hal l of the Kawn­ would jolly well stay there. His other
bawza Hotel and stopped at hand he extended, palm up, toward
a table at which sat a diminutive, Stevens.
moist-eyed figure daintily picking at Stevens placed a fat sea led·
a breakfast herring. envelope in the outstretched hand.
"You did it, Travinside, you did it! "You'l l count it?"
All Rangoon is agog;' Stevens ex­ "Do I ever?" Travinside repl ied,
claimed, wringing the diner's hand. smoothly tucking the envelope away
"But how?" . in an inner pocket of his blazer. ''You
Jeffrey Travinside withdrew his know how I trust you. Besides, you
hand and pointed one of its fingers Yar)ks seldom stint on' the money.
at his right temple, signifying that the You have so much of it. Some

Espionage 93
I l lustration by Aries
 refreshment? I don't recommend the parts, a l l that black stickiness. Ugh!"
fish. It seems to have come from the "It's enough that you brought it off.
m u rkiest depths of the I rrawaddy Though we'd pay handsomely to
and sti l l has a good bit of the m u rk know how. j ust for the report, of
about it:' course, and for possible future use.
·

"Coffee and toast;' Stevens ordered But not in an area where we'd be
briskly of the fezzed waiter who had . com peting with you;' the American
si lently material ized at his elbow. h u rried ly assured.
T h e wa iter bowed, m u r m u red 'What is handsome, Stevens?"
"Sahib;' and disappeared in the d i rec- . "You r fee, half aga i n :'
tion of the kitchen . "U m m . Wel l , perhaps. B ut here's
"You are amaz i n g, Travinside;' Singh with you r order.'
Stevens said, redi recting attention to The waiter slid up to the table and,
h is table com pan ion. 'We thought taking care not to rattle cup against
you had fai led us. When our man at saucer, placed these items before
the ai rport saw Abel Bakerov getting Stevens. He fol lowed with a carafe
on the special Moscow-bound job of coffee and a plate holding two
with that overstuffed attache case, we · sl ices of lightly browned bread, each
thought the game was up. You know w ith a glisten ing golden surface.
what was i n that case, what it could Si ngh maneuvered sugar bowl and
have done to us if it had gotten to cream j ug to with i n Stevens' reach,
the Krem l in ? And then .. :' then poured the coffee, after which
'�nd then?" Travinside sighed, he withdrew a short distance to
weari ly, as he extracted a Service await the further pleasure of either
Special from a circu lar can placed d iner.
on the table for h i s exclusive use by Stevens creamed and sweetened
Singh, the waiter. After l ighting the h i s coffee but, instead of eati ng right
cigarette, he repeated, '�nd then?" away, opted to tal k fu rther of the "ac­
'�nd then, poof!" Stevens said. cident'' that had happened earlier
"We l l , not poof; it wasn't an explo­ that morn ing to one of Moscow's
sion, was it? Was it? " he asked the most val ued agents. It had been an
s m i l ing, weary, i nscrutable face of un usual event. The plane appeared
h is table mate. "Okay, so don't say. wobbly on takeoff but managed to
No matter. Their best bomb men get into the a i r though it was sti l l
went over that plane before Bakerov noticeably unstable. About fifty feet
boarded. It cou ldn't have been a off the ground, the ai rcraft lost its
bomb. So you tin kered with the battle with itself, turned turtle, and
engine. Is that it?" crashed to the concrete runway.
"Engines puzz le me;' Travinside There were no s u rv i vo rs, a n d
answered. '�I I those w i res, all those Bakerov's hefty attache case a n d its

94 Espionage
conte n ts we re effect i ve l y Stevens also was watching Singh
incinerated. removing toast and stain from the
At the end of h i s recountin g, the floor. "Ever notice;' he reflected, "how
American addressed h i mself to h i s . toast always lands spread-side down
toast. He picked up a piece, dunk- when you d rop it? Very messy. If it ·

ed it gingerly and quickly i n h i s cof- were· the other side you cou ld kiss
fee, and had it enroute to h i s mouth it up to God and eat away!'
before h i s hand stopped i n its "See here, Stevens;' Travinside sald
passage and his nose crinkled in a q uickly, as Singh withdrew, "I'l l sel l
quivering· rosette of d istaste. "Si ngh!" you my secret, how I destroyed that
he cal l ed. plane. There. I've taken you up on
"Sah i b?" you r offer now. You have to pay me
"This is oleo you have on the toast. even if you guess my secret:'
Where's the butter? You know I have Stevens glanced at the spot on the
to have butter. Oleo spo i l s the taste floor where the fal l en toast had lain .
of the coffee after dun king. I hate "You s l ippery devi l! Did you . . . ?"
oleo!" "Sl i ppery is the mot juste. Yes, a l l
'�h, sah'b Stevens;' Singh m u m- over the top:'
bled placatingly, "we have no butter. · "Fantastic:' .
Some th ief i n n ight break into kit- "Wil l i see you at l u nch? We'l l start .
chen· and abscond with butter, only w ith a hinchon, a rather n ice clear
butter. We have scoured shops and soup with a joint of oxta i l in its m id-
the bazaar and no butter is to hand; · d ie. Somewhat l ike a Japanese
o n l y m a rga r i n e, w h i c h we waterscape with island. Then, i n
purchased:' memory of our departed col league,
"Phooey!" Stevens said, and in h i s there wi l l b e chicken kiev a n d a
haste to d isengag� h i mself from the borscht wh ich, . g i ven the c i r-
offending substitute let the toast drop cumstances of the Kawnbawza kit-
from h i s hand . It . fel l to the floor, chen, wi l l be as good as it should
margarine side down. Singh busied be. Cook has assured me, h i s store
h i mself clean ing u p. _ of butter w i l l be replenished from
Travinside had watched with in- Pegu i n time for the m idday meal's
terest the contretemps between preparation. Do you fancy Mandalay
American and Ind ian and when the Ale? No matter, it's the only kind they
toast fel l, he bent down qu ickly, h i s have here. Pale or dark? Food and
head below the table surface, h i s d ri n k are my treat:'
eyes i n tently fixed on the fal len ''Yo.u say;' muttered Stevens, mak-
bread. ing a mental note to bri ng another
"So;' he mused, "margarine is j u st sea l ed enve l ope w ith h i m at
as effective:' noon. --+

E s pionage 95
 ABOUT BOOKS
"A S py i n Wi nter", by M ichael Hasti ngs
(Macm i llan Publ is h i ng Company
$ 1 4. 95), satisfies. This fast·movi ng, fast­
reading novel i nvolves the sympathies of
the reader early on, and is so consis­
tently a whole that these sym pathies
never waver. The characters a re wel l ­
d rawn, parti cu larly that of t h e '' hero,"
Alex Orloff, a Russian-born, Western-bred
agent, who is the fictiona l identity of the
master a gent who recruited, d i rected
and controlled the Western world's most
notorious traitors, including Ki m P h i l by .
While o n e questions one's choice of a
· bad guy serving as hero, one roots for
'-------,--� him nonetheless. I l iked "A Spy in Wi nter",
J although 1 have one beef ·with the a uthor: Ha lfway through th e
book, I g u essed that the real bad guy had to be one of two par­
ticular chara cters - I hate figuring out "who done it" - a n d that
somewhat spoi led the remai nder of the book tor me, as I' was
unable to resist testi ng· each action thereafter to gain evidence
for my guess. (I was half right.) Now, others enjoy rea d i n g a novel
in this way; for them, this, about which I com plain, is defi n itely not
a defect. · · .
All i n a l l , this is one book avid s py readers will enjoy.
.. -

"The Cold Wa r Fi le", by Andy East (The Sca recrow Press, I n c .

$22.50), is a delightfu l resource materiai - not a novel - i n which
one finds an eva luative guide to over sixty television, movie a n d
novel espionage series of the sixties, i ncluding i nformation o n well­
known fictional spies such as George S m i ley, Q u i l ler, M att Hel m ,
Modesty Bla ise, a nd a wealth of others. This book is must reading
for serious students of contem porary spy thril lers.
96 Espionage
 " O n The Th i rd D a y " , by · M i c h a e l
Dela haye (Macm i l l a n Publish i ng Com­
pa ny, $ 1 5 .95), is a novel that those
readers who are i nterested in the "Jesus"
gen re should not m iss. All others, take
note: While the action is fast-moving, this
novel is not fast-read ing; there are too
m a ny loyalties i nvolved, and q u ite often
one m ust go back to check on who's
who a n d who is with which grou p . And
it is i m possible to root for any one man
or group; each of them - the CIA, the
Roma n Catholic C h u rch, · lsroel, the
Israel i spy organ ization, the Palestin ians,
the American Government - has at
least one hero a nd one a nti-hero with i n its ranks. For i nstance,
Kesler, the character most obviously deserving of the reader's sym­
pathy, is a llowed to fa ll by the wayside, as an important character
i n the novel, thereby causing the reader's emotional attachment
to him to peter out i nto noth i n g . Very u nsatisfactory. .
Otherwise . . . the interplay of the groups, their actions, reactions ·
a nd cou nter-actions, is fqst-paced and very i nterest-hold i n g . The
use - of m i nor characters as catalysts is d ifferent, a n d works wel l .
Everythi ng fits together without bei ng overdone o r becom ing
tedious. (It shoul d be obvious that I woul d have loved this book
if I could have become i nvolved with at least one of the
cha racters, from beginning to end - I do like Jesus-gen re books !)

Then there's " Ru n ner In The Street", a

mystery by James Grady (who a lso wrote
"Six Days of The Condor") (Macm il la n
Publishing Company, S 1 4 .95). Buried
so"mewhere within the pages of this book
is a story l i ne, a good storyli ne, but one
so overwhel med by the a uthor's need to
p h i losoph ize - he pontificates o n
society, love, rock m usic, p i m ps, pro­
stitutes, a nd drugs, a m ong other sub­
jects - that ha lfway through this novel,
a ny mystery reader worth his sa lt will say
"To hel l with it; it's not worth the effort. "
Rea d i ng this book is work, and it
Espionage 97
shouldn't be. The idea is a good one, a n d the a uthor has a
wonderful way with words; he s i m ply .seems u nable to m a ke u p
h i s m i n d a bout which book he's writi n g : a mystery, a love story,
a sociolog i ca l tract on street-livi n g . The book jacket says: " How
Ra nkin (the book's private investigator hero) resolves the mysteries
of his l ife - the professional a nd the persona l - is the core of this
u n usual detective novel that serves u p more than the sta n dard
fa re . " Yea h . And, mystery/detective reader that I a m , I say,
"Who cares?"
.._

F i n a l ly, there's " Russian Spri ng", by Den n is Jones (Beaufort Books,
I nc . , $ 1 5.95). I fou nd this pol itical thril ler beautifu l ly written - I'd
love to read other books by Jones, he has such a n enormous
ta lent for using the la nguage - but not my own personal cu p of
tea . For me, the m i l itary/pol itica l a rena , i n wh ich a l l the action
takes place, is bori n g . I cou l d n 't m a ke myself care a bout the
deta ils of the Soviet m i l itary action in Afgha n ista n , nor the
maneuvers of the army officers as they vied for position both with i n
the m i l itary organ ization a n d out a mong the leaders of thei r
country.
And when I fou n d human bei n gs to interest me, to cause me
to care a bout them as people, wel l . . . the a uthor refused to
cooperate . Too often he m i red them i n ·so much deta il that I found
myself wis h i ng I could be fin ished with the m ! F i n a l ly, u ltimately,
a n d most u n usua lly for me, I closed the book without finishing it.
A peek at the last page - something I wou ld never do if I plan­
ned to continue rea d i n g -showed me that I was rig ht!
Th is book is good for the espionage reader who l i kes h is da i ly
wa r messages as they are pri nted i n the New York Times, et a l ,
b u t not for those o f us who prefer to e ither l ive without the news
- distressi n g as it a lways is - or who dea l with it when we can
have it served up to us by the reassu ring voices of du lcet-toned
rad i o a n nou ncers . This is a book for the ha rd-core es­
pionage/m i l itary/pol itica l fan . I leave h im/her to it.

98 Espionage
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100 Espionage
 �
I ILlI C.C
LIO� / [U- /
l l l l - l l I' L L
DCC

RSSIGNfiENT by Edward D. Hocb

C
hades Spacer hurried across the Liffey Bridge and
walked quickly toward his hotel on Abbey Street .. The
afternoon sky was low arid silvery gray, not unusua.l for ,
Dublin in May. He'd been in the city for three days and hadn't seen
the sun yet . When Colman King telephoned from London he'd
asked about the weather, but Spacer had only grunted.
Now King was waiting in the lobby of his hotel, seated so his
face was hidden from the door by a large potted fern. Spacer
walked past hini to the elevator without looking in either direc-. ·

tion. He'd been in his sixth-floor room about five minutes when
Colman King rapped gently on the door.
As he walked in, the older man motioned toward the walls and
ceiling. "No bugs," Spacer assured him. "I swept it ."
"Can't be too careful, even in a Dublin hotel room."
"What's on your mind, Cotman?" The man from Washington
. never contacted him unless there was a problem - an assignment,
as he liked to put it. Otherwise, Charles Spacer was the European
sales manager for Conco International, a successful American elec­
tronics firm with offices in major cities of the world . At times,
Spacer had trouble deciding which of his two lives was the real
one and which merely a cover identity. His wife back in Oak Park,
Illinois, had had the same problem. Last year, when they'd both
Esp ionage 1 01
� .
 turned forty, she'd suggested there was little point in keeping up
the charade of a marriage when his life was centered in Europe
and hers was in America.
"Ever hear of the Hatchtree? " Colman King asked.
"High-capacity computer, the best there is, according to the
electronics magazines. What about it?"
' 1\s you may know, it's on the export embargo list at the State
Department . It can be sold . to friendly nations but not to the
Soviets or Eastern Bloc countries. It could have a military applica­
tion in missile launchings.' '
' 1\nd you think some of them are sneaking out?" Reading King's
mind had never been difficult.
" Exactly. Two have been sold to a machine-tool company here
in Dublin . They're the latest model - the Hatchtree 66 - with
far more capacity and sophistication than such a firm could
possibly need.''
"When are they due here?"
"They leave Kennedy tonight on board a chartered cargo plane.
It lands in Dublin at seven tomorrow morning. The Hatchtree
Company is shipping to Brannister Limited in Dublin, but I 'm will­
ing to bet those computers will be loaded onto another plane right
at the arrport. If so, we can have them seized by Customs.' '
' 'I 'll do what I can," Spacer promised. "It seems fairly routine.' '
"Maybe not . There could be a joker in the deck.'' ·
"Oh?"
" Brannister may be using its profits from the transshipment to
purchase arms for the IRA."
Spacer nodded. "I 'll watch my step. How can I reach you if
needed? ' '
Colman King passed over a n envelope. "Here's everything you
need - background on the Hatchtree, including size and descrip­
tion of the shipping containers, my contacts here in Dublin, and
a cash advance in Irish pounds to cover expenses. My contacts
will hold for forty-eight hours. Then I'll be gorte."
They shook hands and Colman King departed.

B
rannister Limited maintained a four-story factory and of­
fices in the northeast section of the city, near Fairview
Park. It was an area where elderly row houses were
gradually giving way to new developments. Charles Spacer had

lOl Espionage
 ·
seen these areas, and firms like Brannister, all his life. The only
unusual thing was that Brannister had paid two-and-a-quarter
million dollars into a New York bank account for some of the most
highly developed computer equipment in existence today. Riding
up to the top-floor offices in the rickety elevator cage, open on
all sides, Spacer could agree with Colman King that there was
reason for suspicion.
Only one member of the Brannister clan was still active in the
business. Daniel Brannister was around fifty, with a puffy red face
that hinted at too much drink, and a damp handshake that did
nothing to rebuild his image. " Charles Spacer of Conco Interna­
tional?" he asked, studying the business card. "Have we done
business with you ? "
" Not yet, but I hope t o remedy that," Spacer said with a smile.
"It 's late in the afternoon, �r. Spacer," he said, speaking in an
accent that seemed part Irish and part English . "You caught me
just as I was leaving for the day."
"If you could give me just fifteen minutes, I 'd like to explain
the range of electronic equipment offered by Conco. ·A company
like this could double its output with a few computers and some
automated . . . "
"No, no. We're not interested .. My grandfather started this
business before the Easter Rising, and we've made a go of it
through three generations by following a fixed path . I 've seen
plenty of other firms wander off into automation and end up with
unhappy workers and a declining share of the market."
"Well, Mr. Brannister, I could cite case histories which prove
exactly the opposite."
But he waved the words away. "I really must go. My secretary,
Miss O'Casey, can fill you in on our situation here. Maybe you've
got a product for us, but I doubt it. Leave your literature with her."
Spacer shook the damp hand again and Daniel Brannister was
gone. He waited in his chair for a moment and was joined by a
red-haired young woman who'd been at the outside desk. ''I'm
Maeve O'Casey," she said extending a hand that was firmer- than
her employer's. "Mr. Brannister is sorry he had to run off, but
perhaps I can help."
' 'I'm sure you can," Spacer said, giving her his best smile. "I
can't believe a firm this size hasn't discovered the value of automa­
tion and computers."

Esp ionage 103

 Maeve O'Casey opened a file drawer and efficiently yanked out
a half-dozen catalogue sheets. "These are our products, Mr. Spacer.
Machine tools, plain and simple. To automate this plant would cost
more than we could gross in ten years' time, and computers would
be no good except for the most basic bookkeeping chores. As it
is, we have a .service that handles those."
Spacer stuffed the catalogue sheets into his briefcase. "Thank
you, anyway. You 've brightened my Dublin day a bit."
y
She glanced out · at the leaden sk . "The weather can be a
nuisance this time of year, but they're predicting sunny and
warmer for tomorrow. How long are you here for?"
"Another two days." He glanced at his watch. "Look, it's almost
quitting time. Could I buy you a drink or something?"
She seemed surprised. "Why would you want to do that ? "
"Perhaps because Maeve is a nice name."
' 'A legendary Irish queen. I hate it."
"What about the driri.k?"
She hesitated, tilting her head slightly, and finally said "Why
not? "
They went to a small pub a few blocks away, across the street
from a corner park where children played. The bartender called
a greeting when they entered, and it was obvious that Maeve
O'Casey was a regular customer here. In the subdued lighting of
·
the pub, her face took on a flushed, sensual look. Perhaps it was
merely her after-hours appearance, away from the demands of
Brannister Limited.
" Do .you travel to Dublin often, Mr. Spacer? " she asked.
" Call me Charles. This is only my second trip, but I hope to
·
be here more often in the future.' '
They small-talked over two pints of beer until she gave him the
opening he sought. "Brannister sells its machine tools all over
Europe - even behind the Iron Curtain," she told him, lighting
·
a slim English cigarette.
" Is that so? Some firms I call on trade with Poland and Hungry.
Sometimes they even buy equipment in America and resell it to
Eastern Bloc countries.' ' .
"Do they indeed? Isn't that against your American regulations?"
Spacer shrugged. "Depends upon the equipment . Companies
are in business to make money. Selling something behind the Iron
Curtain is no worse to them than, say, selling guns to the IRA."

104 Esp ionage

 She suddenly stubbed out her cigarette and he realized he'd gone
too far. "Did Norman Sentry send you ? " she asked, the casual
smile gone from her face.
"No - who the hell is Norman Sentry ? "
"The best�selljng British spy novelist. H e lives in Dublin to avoid
British taxes and he seems to think he can get the plot for his next
book out of me."
"I · don't know the man," Spacer answered honestly. "My
busin�s·s doesn't leave time for very much novel reading."
"The man is a pest at times," she said, relenting a bit by direc-
.
ting her anger at the absent Sentry.
"Hqw could you possibly give him the plot for a novel? " Spacer
wondered. "Do you have a secret life?"
"No, no - he was asking questions about the company. Look
here, I 'm sorry I was angry with you. I'm j ust in a bad mood to­
day. Forgive me."
"Of course. Want another pint ? "
' 'I 'd better not." S h e gathered up her cigarettes and purse and
got to her feet. "It's been a pleasure, Charles. The next time you're
in Dublin, I hope you 'll stop by the office."
' 'There's always tomorrow," he reminded her. " If I had your
·

telephone number . . . "

"Tomorrow might be complicated. There's an important ship­
ment coming in. Next time - all right? "
"Fine." H e walked her to the door o f the pub and watched while
she hurried down the street in the direction of the Brannister
building. Perhaps she was returning to the office for a bit, but he
didn't bother to follow after her.
Instead,' he went to the telephone booth and looked up the ad­
dress of Norman Sentry.

T
he British author was a man in his thirties, who ushered
Spacer into his flat overlooking Mountjoy Square. The place
was large and quite luxurious for the neighborhood, with
a few original oil paintings taking up any wall space not lined with
bookcases. Spacer took in the elaborate word processor and
printer on a table against one wall, and. breathed in a faint sweetish
odor of stale marijuana smoke.
"I don't usually see strangers on the basis of a single telephone
call at dinnertime," Norman Sentry said. He was a big, bearded

Esp ionage 105

 man with hairy arms that showed beneath his rolled-up sleeves.
The remains of his dinner, apparently eaten alone, were on a
sideboard near the kitchen •
sink, visible from Spacer's chair in the
living room.
' 'And I wouldn't usually bother you after business hours," Spacer
assured him. "But my firm, Conco International, is most interested
in breaking into the Irish computer market . I understand you've
been doing research into this area for a new novel and you might
be able to help me."
Sentry's eyes sparkled: "Who told you I was researching
computers? "
"Someone at a firm I called on today - Brannister Limited."
' 'I 'l l give you a tip - stay away from Brannister. There's no ·

market with them."

" Why is that?" Spacer asked innocently. .
"They're interested in other things. Daniel Brannister's father
was a fund-raiser for the Irish Republican Army."
" Does Daniel have I RA connections, too ? "
"I wouldn't b e surprised. In this country those things are i n the
blood."
" Does he smuggle guns for them? I suppose a machine-tool
company would be a good cover."
Norman Sentry snorted. "You sound like a character from one
of my novels, Mr. Spacer. How about a drink?"
"Well , maybe just one."
"Scotch? "
" Fine," Spacer hesitated, pretending embarrassment . "I hate to
admit I've never read one of your books."
"You didn't' miss much. But the public buys them and I have
to stay out of jolly old England to keep my money from the in­
land reven.u e man. One thing about Ireland - they're very good
to writers here.''
"So I've heard."
Norman Sentry handed him a glass of Scotch. " So tell me ­
what did you really come to see me for?"
"I . . . "
" I don't deal in drugs. If someone told you that, they're a liar."
· Then what do you deal in? Spacer wondered. Something
besides the printed word, obviously. Perhaps the spoken ward.
"I was told you had information."

1 06 Espionage
 "Research?"
"That's right, research. I 'd - like to pay for some research
material."
The Englishman scratched his beard and squinted at- him . "On
'
what subject? "
' 'Hatchtree.' '
"Well, well - you're in the big. leagues, aren't you? "
"No, I simply . . . " .

''I know. Look, come back tomorrow evening at this time. I

might have something for you." '
"How much will it cost me? "
•"We'll talk about that after I see what I can get for you. Maybe
there'll be nothing. Tomorrow's going to be a busy day."
"So I 've heard," Spacer murmured.

I
n the morning he was up early, just after dawn. He drove his
little rented car to the airport, parking in the lot designated
for the air cargo terminal. It was some distance from the main
passenger terminal, and at this time of the morning there were
few cars. Spacer was cautious, hoping not to be seen or recognized
by Brannister or Q.is secretary if they put in an appearance.
A big cargo plane touched down a few minutes after seven
o'Clock and taxied toward Spacer's observation point. Almost at
once, he saw Daniel B rannister emerge from a hanger and walk
forward to the point where one of the ground crew was motion­
ing the plane to a stop. Soon the pilot and crew, emerged from
the plane, and through his binoculars Spacer could see some sort
of disagreement in p rogress. All was not going as planned. The
pilot walked away and Brannister seemed to be ordering the big
plane's cargo hatch opened.
Charles Spacer moved quickly through the cargo t�rminal,
waiting near the door of the customs section through which he
knew they all must emerge. The pilot and his blond navigator came
out, and then before Spacer realized what was happening he was
face to face with Daniel Brannister.
"What . . . what are you doing - here?"
"Conca has some air cargo �rriving this morning," he said
calmly. "Should be in any minute now. You, too? "
. "I don't know what I have, except a pack o f idiots i n my
employ ! " He shouted at the back of the departing pilot. "Roger,

E spionage 107
 just hold it there a minute! The shipment is not on 'board your
aircraft! Your co-pilot, LeRoy, said to see you."
The pilot, Roger, turned with some exasperation and said, "I
told you that when we landed. The cargo was off-loaded at Shan­
non exactly as your office instructed. I have the radio message
in my log." · ·
"I'd like to see that," Brannister said, his lips thin and angry.
He seemed to· have forgotten Spacer's presence. His eyes went to
the message Roger indicated� "I never sent that," he growled: " I
never directed you to off-load the shipment at Sh4nnon Airport.
Who p'icked it up there?"
"How should I know? I only fly the plane." He turned to Spacer.
"You work for Brannister?"
"No, I'm Charles Spacer . . . "
". . . from Conco International. Spacer, this is my pilot, Roger
Haines." He glanced around for the rest of the crew. "What hap­
pened to Morgan and LeRoy ? "
"They'll b e waiting for m e outside," Roger Haines sa�d . " Look
the goods were left at Shannon Airport. Don't give me any grief,
.
Brannister. I limped in here with fuel tanks that were practically
empty. As soon as we get a little rest and my tanks are full, the
three of us are heading back to the States."
"If you had nothing to deliver," Spacer asked, "why did you
come on to Dublin at all ? "
"To. collect my money and pick u p a cargo for the States. We
don't fly these things empty, you know."
' ' I 'll get to the bottom of this," Brannister promised. "Come to
my office after lunch." The pilot nodded and we,nt off to meet
his two crewmen.
"Valuable cargo? " Spacer asked.
'.' Damned valuable. I don't know what's going on here."
Spacer didn't know, either. Colman King had asked him to verify
the arrival and transshipment of two Hatchtree 66 computers, but
as near as he could tell they'd been dropped at Shannon Airport.
Were they on their way to Russia, or did the IRA have some use
for them? And was Brannister merely an innocent bystander?
'

T
he area around Mountjoy Square was alive with activity at
mid-morning. Spacer slipped into the building, thankful
. there was no doorman, and took the elevator to Sentry's

1 08 Espionage
floor. "Who is it? " the bearded man �ked, opening the door just
a crack in response to his ring.
" Charles Spacer. Hope I ' m not disturbing you. "
" I told you to come tonight. "
" It ' s got to be now . Something' s come up . "
Norman Sentry' s head disappeared from the opening and
Spacer wondered if he had a woman with him . He thought of
Maeve O'Casey at once. Then Sentry said, "Very well, " and open­
ed the door.
Spacer entered and looked around. The bedroom door was
closed. ' ' I ' m sorry to intrude on you like this . . . ' '
·

" Get to the point, Mr. Spacer. "

" Do you have the information for me?"
' 'About Hatchtree,. you mean ? ' '
"Yes."
"It'll cost you 10,000 pounds. British, not Irish."
"How do I know you have anything to sell ? "
·

' "I have it."

"Then the money can be arranged."
"The money first."
Spacer smiled, moving casually about the room. "We seem to
be in a deadlock. Why don't I suggest a possible compromise?"
Now he was opposite the closed bedroom door. "Tell me what
you �now first and I 'll promise not to reveal your source."
"How do you know my . . . · ? "
Spacer reached over suddenly and opened the bedroom door.
"You can come out now, Miss O 'Casey."
But it :wasn't Maeve O 'Casey behind the door. lt was Morgan,
the blond naviga�or from the airport, and he had a small Bet:etta
automatic aimed at Spacer's chest.
Norman Sentry chuckled a,t the surprised look on Spacer's face
as he raised his hands and walked backward toward the sofa,
directed by the motions of the gun in Morgan's hand. "Was that
your trump card, Mr. Spacer? If so, you just overplaye4 your hand."
"Seems like it," Spacer admitted, sitting down hard .
·

. "What are you, CIA or something?"

"Just a businessman trying to make an honest buck. A little in­
dustrial espionage neyer hurt anyone.' '
"If that's your fall-back coyer story, it's not a very good orie.
"What should we do with him?" Morgan asked, holding the

/ Espionage 109
 gun steady.
' ' I 'd like to drop him in the Liffey with no questions asked. But
if he is working for the American government that could cause
us more tro uble than it's worth . Let's tie him to that kitchen chair
and leave him here."
"What about our deal ? ' ' Spacer asked, as they led him to the
chair.
"You came too soon," Sentry answered. ''And you got too nosy."
-Spacer 's hands and feet were tied to the wooden chair and a
gag was placed in his mouth . "What do we do with him after? "
Morgan .wanted to know.
" When it 's over we'll release him," Sentry said. " Come on."
They went out the apartment door, leaving Spacer alone to con­
template his misfortune. Something was happening today, and he
had not an inkling of what it was. Had Morgan, the navigator,
faked the radio message directing Haines to land at Shannon and
unload the Hatchtree computers there? Were they already on their
way behind the Iron Curtain? He strained at the ropes around his
wrists but they held firm .
He must have been there an hour when he heard a key turn
in the lock. The door opened slowly inward and his eyes widened
as h� saw Maeve O'Casey slip into the apartment. He hadn't been
completely wrong in his guesswork, only premature.
She didn't seem surprised to find him tied to the chair, and
quickly removed the gag from his mouth and set to work on the
ropes. "I was hoping they hadn't killed you," she told him. "It
was my fault for mentioning Norman to you in the first place.' '
"How 'd you get the key ? "
"He gave me one when h e was trying to romance me. When
you mentioned selling guns to the IRA, it triggered Norman Sentry
in my mind. That's not his real name, of course - it's a
pseudonym he uses for his books. And he's not English, he's Irish.
That's his closely guarded secret. The money from his best-selling
novels goes to finance the IRA . Was Morgan with him - the
navigator from the plane ? ' '
"Yes," Spacer confirmed. She'd finally fmished untying the knots
and he yanked his hands free of the ropes, bending over to help
untie his feet .
"The plane is carrying weapons for IRA terrorists. When it
leaves Dublin, Morgan will force Haines to fly it to Northern

1 10 Espionage
Ireland instead of back home to America."
"What about LeRoy, the co-pilot?"
"Things have taken a nasty turn. LeRoy was killed an hour ago
by a hit-and-run driver. I 'm sure they'll replace him with an IRA
member who can fly the plane while Morgan overpowers Roger
Haines."
" Why didn't they unload the weapons here?"
"The Irish government forbids direct aid. to the IRA . An Irish
c ustoms agent might wink at the contents of the plane as long
as it stays on board, but he couldn't allow it to be unloaded here."
' 'And the Hatchtree computers ? "
"You know a great deal , don't you , Mr. Spacer ? "
H e smiled a t her. "I told you to call m e Charles. I know the plane
was carrying two H atchtrees bound for Brannister Limited. It
seemed more than was needed for a little machine-tool business."
" Daniel Brannister has always felt guilty for not being the man
his father was. One of his customers, a Bulgarian businessman,
appro�ched him about buying two Hatchtrees, since the Bulgarian
couldn't purchase them directly. There was a nice fee involved,
and Daniel thought it could be his small contribution to the IRA
cause."
" Where are the Hatchtrees now ? "
"Your guess i s a s good a s mine. In the air cargo building at Shan­
non Airport, over a hundred miles from here, I suppose."
" If Daniel Brannister didn't send the radio message to land at
Shannon, who did?"
" I have no idea. I suppose Morgan might have faked it , or
perhaps Norman Sentry managed to send it."
" For what reason?"
"You're the most obvious reason, Charles. You were snooping
around yesterday, talking to Daniel and me, and even to Norman
Sentry. Did you mention the Hatchtree to Norman ? "
"Yes," h e admitted.
"Then there's your answer. He feared you'd h ave customs seize
the plane for those computers. In getting the Hatchtrees, they'd
have been unable to overlook the weapons destined for the IRA .
So Norman contacted Morgan on the plane with that fake message.
With the Hatchtrees unloaded at Shannon, they could proceed
with their original plan to fly the arms to Northern Ireland."
He admitted it made sense. Sentry would have given him some

Espionage Ill
 information that evening and earned another 10 ,000 pounds for
the cause. It made sense, and yet . . . ' '
" I have to get to the airport," h e decided. "That's where Sen-
-
try and Morgan will be."

B
ut the first person he saw, as he entered the air cargo
building with Maeve at his side, was Daniel Brarulister. "I've
talked to Shannon Airport three times," he growled. "They
can't find any record of my shipment being · unloaded last night
or this morning."
Spacer hurried forward, leaving Maeve to deal with him . There
was no way of knowing how soon Haines and his crew would
be . taking off, but he felt he had not a moment to lose.
He saw the cargo plane still at the hanger where it had landed
that morning. The crew was boarding it - Haines and Morgan
and a new' co-pilot he didn't know. He . started toward them, but
almost at once Norman Sentry appeared to block his path .
" I didn't think we'd be seeing you again; not this soon."
,
" I ' m getting on t hat p l ane,"
· Spacer told h i m .
Sentry merely smiled. "No, you ' re not."
Spacer's right fist connected with Norman Sentry's jaw and the
novelist staggered backward . He twisted and fell to the ground,
and as he started to rise Spacer hit him again. This time he stayed
down.
Spacer hurried up the steps and entered the plane. "What in
hell do you want?" Morgan asked, but made no move to stop him.
· " Where's the cargo? " Spacer asked, but already he'd found the
door on his own and entered the cargo bay. Several large cases ·

labeled F(:lnn Machinery were clustered in the area over the wings,
strapped- into position. Spacer grabbed a crowbar and pried away
·

one slat.
" What's going on here?" the pilot Haines asked, hurrying back
from the .cockpit. "We're set to take off."
"These are weapons for the IRA," Spacer told him . "Morgan
and your new co-pilot are planning to kill you and fly the plane
to Northern Ireland."
All three men were back there now, facing him . " We warned
·

you to stay out of this," Morgan said.

The co-pilot, a swarthy man with dark eyes, slipped a pistol
from under his flying jacket. "Haines, look out ! " Spacer warned.
,

Ill Espionage
 But Haines never changed his expression . The co-pilot . turned
and shot Morgan through the right temple.
Haines glanced down at his fallen navigator. "Give me the gun,
Pierre. I 'll cover him while you get this plane onto the runway."
Pierre shifted the gun toward Spacer. "I kill hip:l , too. Why not?"
" Because I say so. I want to find out what he knows."
" It 's all becoming clear," Spacer said. " You had your co-pilot
killed so Pierre could take his place. The plot was against Morgan
and the IRA."
Roger Haines leveled the gun at Spacer as Pierre switched on
the jet engines. "You think I can bother running Sten guns and
plastic explosives when there's two-and-a-quarter million dollars
in computers on board ? "
" O f course," Spacer said. "They were always o n board, weren't
they? In those big crates that are supposed to contain the IRA
weapons. You never unloaded the computers at Shannon because
you never even landed at Shannon."
" You know that?"
"I know it. You said you were almost out of fuel when you land­
ed here. But surely you would have refueled at Shannon before
flying those last hundred or so miles on a nearly empty tank.
Besides, Brannister's been calling Shannon and they have no
record of the shipment. The Hatchtrees are right there behind me,
with a few weapons inside the crates to fool the customs men.
You knew they'd wink at the guns but they'd stick to the rules
on the Hatchtrees."
"You 're a smart guy," Haines told him . " How 'd you get in on
this, anyway ? "
The plane was rolling now, taxiing onto the runway. " We
suspected Brannister of transshipping the Hatchtrees to an Eastern
Bloc country.' '
"Sure, he was going to do it . But why make a few hundred thou­
sand for the IRA when I can take the computers myself and sell
them to the Russians for the full two-and-a-quarter million? "
"Then this plane . . . ? "
" . . . is flying east, not west. I 'm delivering the goods in per­
son. They supplied Pierre to help me, and he got rid of LeRoy."
"You'll never make it ."
" You think not? By the time anyone realizes what's happening
we'll be in East German airspace."

Espionage 113
 "You can never go back to America."
"With that much money, who cares. All these complicated
transshipment de·als with faked invoices! All you do is get in a
plane and fly the stuff over."
"The East Germans will shoot you out of the sky."
Haines shook his head. "They know we're coming." ·
"Those Hatchtrees can be used to guide ICBMs."
"Don't go patriotic on me, mister.� ·
Pierre called out froin the cabin. "Cleared for takeoff! "
' ' I 'll be right there," Haines said, raising the gun to take aim .
" I . hope you're a better shot than Pierre was," Spacer said.
"Morgan is still alive."
Haines only glanced down for a second, but that plus the mo­
tion of the plane · was- all that Charles Spacer needed.

C
olman King shook his head and stared at the inside of the
plane: "Did you kill this one, too, Charles? "·
"That's Morgan, the navigator. Pierre shot him as soon as
I came on board. He was IRA and believed those crates were full
of weapons. He also knew the plane had never landed at Shan­
non Airport, but he thought the Hatchtrees were still back in New
York. They had to kill him before they set a course for East
Germany.' '
"What about the other two?"
"They 're not bad off. Haines and Pierre should both live to tell
their stories."
"I hope so. Now where are the Hatchtrees? "
Spacer pried off a few more boards from the packing cases. He
tossed out two well-oiled submachine guns and then tore away
more packing material. "Right here, all the time. Haines dreamed
up the gun-running cover story so he could play the IRA against
Brannister and fly the computers to East Germany himself. There
never was a radio message to land at Shannon, of course. Morgan ·

went along with it because he thought Haines was on their side."

Colman King nodded. "Thanks, Charles. I didn't realize it would
be quite so dangerous."
"When money's involved, it's always dangerous," Spacer said.
He left the plane and walked back toward the air cargo building.
It was growing dark and he wondere9 if Maeve O 'Casey had waited
for . him . -r

1 14 Espionage
 T
he broad's neck snapped like dried straw.
It was a simple matter of going over to the
bed, slapping one hand over her mouth, the
other on the back of her head, then pulling and
twisting. I could've done a dozen more without get­
ting tired.
I went over and cracked the door, listened. The
only sound I heard was the tick of the grandfather
clock at the end of the hall . Her robe was draped
across the chair at the side of her bed. I slipped it
on her, found her house shoes.
Her night cap fell off when I picked her up, ex­
posing stringy gray hair wrapped in foam rollers.
Some women really get uptight about being seen in
public with their hair in rollers. Just in case she'd
been that type, and so everything would look right,
I took the time to pm the cap back on, then I car­
ried her out into the ha:U. Even in dead weight , she
didn't feel any heavier than a twelve pack. I got my
hands under her arms, stood her at the head of the
· ·

stairs and let go�

A
s arranged, I met Cliff in the park at noon
the next day. I was sitting on the bench by
the lagoon, watching some old man throw
popcorn to the pigeons. There was a big gray one
in particular who seemed to be getting most of it.
I wondered how fast they would gobble it up if I
could 've dumped some rat poison into the old man's
bag. I could see the big, gray one try taking to the
air and doing a nose dive into the lagoon. Or maybe
the whole bunch would be flying somewhere when.
the poison took effect . Talk about raining cats and
dogs. It was something I 'd have to try one day soon. '

Cliff plopped ·on the bench next to me. We were

both the same age but he looked much older with
his dark heavy beard .
" Well? " he said, and I handed him the newspaper

1 16 Espionage Illustration by Bruce Baker

clippings.
I'd cut the top one out this morning. It had been
stuck in the corner of the obituary page and told
in brief detail of the death of a nursing home resi- ·
dent who'd fallen down the stairs during the night.
There were three other clippings; a hit and run at­
tributed to some kids joyriding in a stolen car, a
boating accident, and a suicide.
' 'You 've done very well.' '
" I have a knack for it."
' 'Indeed you do. You've taken care of their north­
east sleeper wing single-handedly."
"That's the way the orders were cut," I said, notic­
ing a slight hesitancy in Cliff's usual clip delivery.
"You sound like you didn't expect me to complete
the job."
"No, on the contrary, I was the only one at the
agency who felt you would."
"What kind of game are we playing now?"
"No games," Cliff said, looking directly at me.
"The agency needs dedicated people who strive to
do a complete, thorough job. It 's when those at­
tributes are perversed into an obsessive pleasure that
we have to initiate more stringent controls."
It was the old desk jockey jabber. They get out of
the field and they get soft. Now they wanted to get
rid of me for doing my job too well. I 'd never come
close to how good I could really be, but I 'd show
them, and I 'd enjoy it all the way. Four stiff fingers
into Cliff's throat would make a good start.
Just for a second, Cliff's eyes flickered and he
glanced to his left . I swung around, digging for the
. 4 5 in my belt .
The old man was less than ten feet away, his hand
deep in the popcorn bag. I gripped the butt of my
. 4 5 but the bag burst with a spray orpopcorn and
the golden flame of a silenced revolver.
The old man was good, too. -+

,.

E s p ionage 117
 ·.

THE ..._.....
INTELLIGENCE
. PROCESS
by Ernest Volkman

It ai n't what a man

doesn't know that inakes , ·
.
him a fool, but what he �
knows that ain't so. - ,....
Josh Billings :.a.. ···-
 U
n ited States Army Lieuten­ a fu l l minute, shrugged his shou lders
ant Leslie A. Skinner was and wal ked away.
not an especially popu lar

A
man with most of h is neighbors on t fi rst glance, th is seems an
the Army's Aberdeen P rov i n g odd way to begi n a discus­
G rounds i n Maryland d u ring 1 934. sion of the craft of i n ­
For one th i n g, there was the matter tel l igence, and yet there is m uch to
of a l l that banging and clangi ng heed in th is obscure l ittle i ncident ·
wh ich rang out each n ight from the 50 years ago on a Depression-era
basement workshop of the young Army post. For what happened there
ord inance officer's home. Worse, that Sunday morn ing u l ti mately
each Sunday morning - a sanctified amounted to an inte l l igence fai l u re
non-duty day of rest for most m i l itary that was to cost a n u m ber of l ives
personnel - the quiet was shattered and have a d i rect i m pact on the
by loud explosions as Skinner would cou rse of World War I I .
take whatever strange contraption The fai l u re in th is case fal l s
he was building in his basement out d i rectly o n the shou lders of the
to an empty post fi ring range for German officer. We do not know his
testi ng. name, for there is no record that he
Nobody seemed to know qu ite later filed any report on what he had
what Skin ner was tinkering with, seen and · heard at Aberdeen that
and the man h imself, a notoriously day. A curious oversight, for the of­
tacitu rn loner, did not encourage ficer, attached to the German
questions. Possi bly, it was some of m i l i ta ry attache office in the
the Aberdeen gossip about Skinner's Washington embassy, was, pre­
contraption that moved a member of sumably, a functioning i n te l l igence
a visiting German m i l itary delega­ officer, as were (and sti l l are} al l
tion to Aberdeen one Sunday morn­ m i l itary attaches. Nevertheless, he
ing in the fal l of that year to wander apparently never bothered to record
over toward a fi rin g range. There, he the fact that an American Army of­
saw Skinner load ing what appeared ficer was testing a m i l itary rocket.
to be a sma l l bomb with rocket-l i ke G iven the size of the rocket the
fi ns onto a long rai l . German officer observed, not tob
The· German Weh rmacht officer m uch effort would have been re­
tried to start up a conversation with q u i red to deduce that it was some
Skin ner, but he had no sooner men­ sort of anti-tank rocket, a further clue
tioned the word "rocket" when being the fi ns (wh ich meant that the
Skin ner packed up h i s equ i pment rocket was designed for stabi l ized
and stal ked off. Nonplussed, the fl ight) . Subsequently, there is no
German officer stood at the spot for · record that the Germans ever tried

I ZO Espionage
to d i scover the extent of American equal izer to the feared German
rocket development, nor, even more tanks that had terrorized i nfantry for
to the point, was there any attempt years a l l over E u rope. For the
to d i scover if any American rocket Germans, the inte l l igence fai l u re
m ight pose a threat to the armadas was double-edged: not only d id the
of tanks Germany was then starting bazooka th reaten G ermany's own
to b u i ld as the backbone of i ts new tanks, but since the Wehrmacht liad
army. no anti-tan k rockets of its own, that
E ight years later, in North Africa, meant any new tan k design with
Germans paid dearly for that over­ u pgraded armor which could with­
sight when they encountered a nasty stand German anti-tan k arti l lery
technological surprise: an American would have a great advantage. And
shoulder-fi red, anti-tan k rocket, i n­ that is precisely what happened,
vented by Skinner and n icknamed even before the advent of Skinner's
"bazooka" by G l s, that blew the tur­ bazooka. I n J u ly 1 94 1 , un its of
rets off German Panzers. (One en­ General Heinz G uderian's Second
tire detachment of German tan ks Panzer Army, spearheading the Ger­
surrendered after bei n g fi red on man thrust into Russia, frantica l ly
from long range by bazookas; the reported attacks by a new Russian
detach ment commander thought he tan k they had never seen before, an
had been zeroed in by arti l lery.) extremely mobi le mach ine whose
Skinner's invention had come back sloped armor seemed i m pervious to
to haunt the Germans, who final l y the best German anti-tank shel ls
managed to capture one bazooka in­ (one Russian tan k requ i red 1 3 she l l
tact. They s i m pl y copied the h its before bei n g knocked out of ac­
weapon with a . few refinements, t i o n ) . The G e r m a n s had encoun­
renamed it Panzerfaust, and crash­ tered, tor the fi rst time, the famed
produced thousands in a desperate T-34 tank, whose superior mobi l ity
attempt to stem_ the tide of A l l ied and armor were years ahead of any
armor. * existi ng tan k design. On ly the
B ut it was too late; Skinner had Russians' i n ab i l ity to use the i r
provided the foot sol d i. er with an wonder tanks properly in massed

* Some 40 years after the bazooka's ordered the Army to con sider buy­
sensational debut i n North America, i n g s u pe r i o r forei g n a n ti-ta n k
the U.S. Army had developed the rockets - among them, i ron ical ly,
latest gen erat i o n s uccessor to West Germany's Panzerfaust I l l ,
Skinner's original design. Cal led linear descendant of the World War
Viper, it was plagued by such severe I I copy.
techn ical problems that Congress

Espionage 121
 formations prevented a greater Ger­ represented a cultural m indset that, ·

man· disaster, although when the proud of its traditional scientific and
Russians finally d id learn how to · technological mastery, refused to
manage armored warfare, it was the consider even the- possibil ity of any
T-34 which spearheaded the final other nation developing superior
·drive that ended i n the streets of tec h n o logy, especia l l y m i l i tary
aerl i n . (G uderian only half-jokingly technology. He did not see because
proposed at one point that the Ger­ he was conditioned not to see.
mans simply reproduce the T-34 This phenomenon is even more
design exactly, pai nt swasti kas on obvious in the case of the T-34 tan k:
them and send "German T-34s" into the Germans were completely sur­
· battle. This sugg�stion was i m­ .prised by the . appearance of this
mediately rejected by a humorless tan k, despite the fact that the
h i gh com mand, which noted the R4ssians/ had not taken too many
loss of face the supposed ly m ighty pai n s to h ide it. The German Army's
German war machine wou ld suffer 1 94 1 tank recogn ition manual con­
were it to copy a tari k design fror:n tai n ed no mention of the T-34,

·1
the "subhuman" Russians.) although the Russians .had fi rst used
the tan k more than a · year before
n the larger context of World d u ri ng border clashes i n the Far East
War II, and its many intell igence w ith Japan, a close German al ly. B ut
fai l u res, the bazooka i ncident is German inte l l igence refused to
virtually . unknown . Yet, it offers a bel ieve that the Russians, whom
vital clue to the i ntel ligence process, they con s i dered tech n o l og i c a l
because that process, fundament­ Neanderthals, cou ld possibly bu i l d
al ly, concerns h u man perceptions a tank superior to those produced by
and .human j udgments. And that ex­ the vaunted German technology.
plain's why there are sti l l contin u ing This myopia persisted even in the
fai l u res in intel l i gence, despite in- face of more di rect evidence: in
. creasingly elaborate techn ical col-· .May, 1 94 1 , the Russians showed off
lection systems. the i r Sta l i n Tan k School near
The Germans were su rprised by Moscow to Ameriqn news . re­
·the appearance of the American porters. Life magazine· publ ished
bazooka, despite. the fact that its i n­ pictu res of the school, including
ventor had. inadvertently demon­ shots clearly showing the new
strated the weapon right under the T-34s, wh ich firs� entered large-scale
German inte l l igence officer's nose. prod uction in 1 940. T h i s un­
Why? Possi bly, the intel l i gence of­ characteristic openness by the Rus­
ficer was lazy or incompetent, but sians, al lowi ng a rare peek i nside
a more l i kely explanation is that he their m i l itary establ rshment, was in-

122 Espionage
 tended as a warn ing to the Germans · defin ed as proce�sed information.
of the power of the Red Army. It was The process is rough ly simi lar to the
a none-too-su btle hint tha,t fai led one that goes on each day i nside
completely. German i ntel l igence newspaper offices - a large amount
persisted in its bel ief that 'no such ad­ of information flows in, there to be
vanced· design. as the T-34 cou l d digest�d, analyzed and processed
possibly exist, and a month later; the i nto a . package that the ed itors
Germans invaded the Soviet U n ion bel ieve is a reasonably complete
and soon encountered the "non­ report on the important events of the
existent'/ tan k. day. In inte l l igence, the same pr-o­
It was tempting to believe that the cess is often cal led "intel lection,"
·

German b l i ndoess was a sy111 ptom mean ing the processi n g of informa- ·

of totalitarian societies in general, · tion (sometimes termed . "raw in­

w h e re . r i g i d l y-en fo rced be l i ef �el l igence") i n to j udgments. These
systems tend to spawn narrow th i n k­ j udgments are given to poliC)imakers
i n g imposed from above, or no (cal led "customers" or "users" in .in­
th i n ki n g at a l l . B ut the fact i s that tel ligence jargon), who are then sup­
democracies·, includ i n g the U n i ted posed to make decisions based on
·

States, are j ust as subject to horren­ them.

dous intel l igence fai l u res. Indeed, it The vast b!J i k of any i ntel l igence
is poss i ble to recite a h istory of service's i ri put comes from so-cal led
American inte l l igence solely i n "open" sou rces - p u b l ications,
· terms of a long l itany of fai l u re, rang­ rad io broadcasts, and a t�ousand
i n g from Pearl Harbor to Vietnam. and one other such clues. Suppose,
That wou.ld be an oversimpl ifica­ for example, that country X is fear­
tion, yet the truth remains: every fu l of i m m i n ent attack from countr-Y
American president, from Wi lson to Y. Th us, cou ntry X is watchi n g Y's
the present day, has experienced at armed forces very carefu l ly. Its in­
least one major foreign pol icy tel l igence service d iscovers, by the
disaster that was d i rectly attri butable s i m ple exped ient of having i ts field
to either a lack of adequate i n­ agents keep the i r eyes open, that
tel l igence or an outright fai l u re to large numbers of country Y's h i gh­
understand the inte l l igence at hand . ran king m i l itary officers are on
To understand how that has come leave. Cross-checked · against other
about; ·a few words about the i n ­ sou rces - i s t h i s ·poss i b l y a
tel l i gence process Itself are i n order. deliberate deception ? - X wi l l con­
To begi n with, it is i m portant to clude that war with Y is not i m m i­
remember that there is a d ifference nent, since if it were, Y's m i l itary
between i n fo rm a t i o n a n d i n ­ forces wou ld be i n a more height­
tel l i gence, which can be broad ly . ened state of alert, w ith m i l i tary

E spionage. 123
leaves cancel led. A mong many Americans, there is
The tricky part is the intel lection a persistent conviction that there i s
process itself, wh ich is most often af­ someth ing cal led "intell igence," by
fl icted by the b iases of the people which is meant an empi rical truth ly­
who make the j udgments, the i n g out there someplace, waitin g to
predel iction of the "customers," and be detected. This conviction stems,
someti mes the sheer i nabil ity of in­ i n part, from a pecu l iar bias of
tel l i gence analysts to make j udg­ American cultu re, which is domi­
ments because of lack of informa­ nated by an ethos that most, if not
tion. In the latter case, the judgments all, problems are soluble by systems.
become hedged and i ndefi n i te, For that reason, modern American
which induces either overcaution or inte l l igence tends to distrust raw in­
simply wrongheaded concl usions. tel l i gence produced by h u man be­
Ideal ly, inte l l i gence shou ld amount ings (called "humint" in American in­
to the formu l a once summarized by tel l i gence slang), the trad itional
L i eutenant Genera l Samuel V. cloak and dagger spy. I nstead, the
W i l son, former deputy d i rector of spraw l i n g U .S. intel l i gence ap­
the Central Intel l i gence Agency: paratus, which now incl udes about
'We can't tel l you what God is go­ 1 50,000 people and spends more
i n g to do on Tuesday of next week. than $ 1 5 b i l lion a year, concentrates
B ut we probably can tel l you when its efforts on complicated techno­
He's getting mad." logical systems to col lect raw in­
Wh ich is to say that there is rarely tell igence, leaving human beings the
an i ntel l igence agency's concl usion task of interpreting the meaning of
that is precise in all details, un less the huge amounts of data col l ected.
there is an unparalleled, unimpeach­ There are two basic sou rces of
able source. (Even U LTRA, the great American intel l igence. One is signal
B ritish code-br�aking operation 'of inte l l i gence (known as "sigint''),
World War I I that managed to read wh ich col lects electronic transm is­
v i rtual ly all of the German h igh sions, i ncluding radar, m issi le and
command's rad io signals, was not an sate l l ite telemetry, coded signals,
i ntel l i gence paragon. It cou ld on ly telephone transmissions, m icrowave
read the G erman decisions and beams and computer signals. The
orders that were d ispatched in radio second is photo in_tell igence (cal led
form. It cou ld not detect verba l "photi nt''), wh ich involves taking
orders, nor could it detect informa­ photographs or television pictures of
tion sent by telephone over secure targets of inte l l i gence interest from
land lines. And, most i mportantly, it overhead, mostly by sate l l i te .
could not see inside the heads of S l ightly less than 2 0 percent o f a l l
Germany's m i l i tary leadersh i p.) American intel l igence is col lected

1 24 Espionage
by human sou rces, the bulk of them is some sort of correlation between
CIA agents attached to embassies quantity and qual ity of i ntel l igence;
abroad and m i l itary intel l i gence the greater the amount of raw in­
person nel. tel l igence col lected, the more l i kely
The theory .is that the more in­ that the "truth" wi l l be unearthed .
tel l igence produced by machine, the Again, th is is a pecu l iarly American
least l i kely it is to be subject to bias, for i n a country where the
fal lacies of human error. However, m i croc i rcu it and the resu lting infor­
the best technology of modern mation explosion were born, there
American inte l l igence is as subj ect is a preva i l i n g faith that much i n­
to h uman error as a l l intel l i gence tel l igence work is a s i mple function
always has been . The problem i s of col lection . For that reason, in­
twofold: first, the human beings who tel l igence officials i n the U n ited
interpret the supposedly i m m utable States take great delight i n recount­
"facts" produced by techn ical col l ec­ i n g the wonders of their techn ic�!
tion systems are j ust that, h u man . col lection systems: how their spy
What a sate l l ite pictu re m i ght mean satel l i tes can spot golf balls lying on
is subject to a whole range of human the grass from thousands of m i les i n
b i ases, most i m portantly pol itical space, o r how new television recon­
ones. Second, there is no inte l l i­ naissance devices can spot people
gence system, even the massive wal king on the streets of Moscow
American apparatus, that col l ects from sate l l i tes hundreds of m i les
everyth ing. What it collects is deter­ above their heads.
m ined by a system of col lection B ut quantity is no guarantee of
priorities, which in tum i mmediately anythi ng, save quantity; the most
involves questions of bias, since detai led raw i ntel l i gence is only a
human beings decide what is i mpor­ pile of fi lmstri ps and paper un less
ta'n t to col lect, and what is not. For there is somebody around who can .
example; a n u mber of experts i n und � rstand what it a l l means.
1 9 72 tried to convince the C I A to Modern history is i n structive i n th is
pay attention to the growing power regard: the truth is that error is the
of the petroleum exporting countries most commonplace featu re of al l
and the possi ble impl ications of modern inte l l igence, American i n­
American foreign pol i cy. The i r cluded. Indeed, it is interesti ng how
arguments went unheeded, and the often colossal bl unders and gross
1 9 73 OPEC o i l boycott came as a m i scalculations recur with distress­
c o m p l ete shock, catc h i n g, the i n g reg u l a ri ty, d e s p i te tru l y
U n ited States total ly un prepared. awesome tools of modern tech­
Another popu lar bel ief about nology. The development is even
American i ntel l igence is that there more remarkable, consideri ng the

Esp ionage 12 5
 fact t h at i n te l l i ge n ce e n j oys in col lection, rather than analysis.
someth ing of a vogue i n contem­ Or, as Lady Astor was reputed to
porary pol itics. An i ngrained part of have said during that fatefu l n ight
a l l modern statecraft, inte l l i gence is aboard the Titan ic, "I asked for a
now devoid of. the old onus con­ glass of ice water, but this i s ·

n ected with espionage and is even rid icu lous."

official ly enshrined in d iplomatic And even when the "truth" seems
agreements, witness the American­ self-evident from the mountains of
Soviet arms l i mitation agreements data, there is sti l l no guarantee that
that include provisions (cal led "na­ the most sol id i ntel ligence wi l l have
t i o n a l tec h n i c,a l m e a n s" i n · any i m pact. Again, the problem is
d i plomatese) guaranteeing each na� h u man : pol icymakers are often
tion u n i m peded spy sate l l ite over- ­ products of a catechism of assump­
fl ights. To a great extent, intell'igence"· tions and pol itical bel iefs which no
has become i n stitutional ized, out­ amount of information or i nte l l i­
fitted with assorted bureaucratic gence w i l l shake. There are· legions
trappi ngs to make it somewhat of recent h istorical exa m p l es;
respectable - a development that perhaps the most striking contem­
would be un recogn izable to the old porary one is Vietnam. In V ietnam,
cloak and dagger generation . That .despite all evidence of h i story to the
generation wou ld also have trouble contrary, the Un ited States bel ieved
recogn izing the transformation of as an artjcle of faith that · it cou ld
the spy into its modern version, "in­ "wi n " by transform i n g South Viet­
tel l igence officer." (The word "spy'' nam's rickety regime into some sort
is gradually d i sappearing from the of bulwark against which North
modern pol itical lexicon .) Vietnam and the V ietnamese Com­
Yet, despite a l l th is, it seems that munist movement would be dashed
the more we col lect, the less we to pieces.
seem to know about what's really · This delusionary process has been
going on . The chief reason is that In­ . ca l l ed "the p l easu re of s e l f­
tel l igence has been outrun by · deception," an accurate phrase
· technology; American inte l l i gence, which describes the dynamic under­
especial ly, is flooded by the moun­ lying an interesting statistic: of n i ne
tains of data they so assiduously col­ major surprise strategic attacks
lect. That means the h u mans who throughout the world since 1 940,
are supposed to be interpreting this not one was tru!y a surprise. In each
ocean of material are often over­ case, leaders of the nations about to
whelmed. Moreover, the tai l is wag­ be attacked knew such an attack was
ging the dog: an increasing percent­ i m m i nent, and in some cases we re
age of human resources is expended in possession of detai led i ntell igence

1 26 Espionage
giving the date and hour of the at­ pal l i n g error the only example of in­
tack. Yet, the leaders si mply d id not te l l i ge n ce · fa i l u re of s i m i l a r
bel ieve, so they discounted the in­ magn itude d u ring World War I I .
tell igence which ran counter to what There are a n u m ber o f others, but
they knew in their heart of hearts that war provides the greatest exam­
was "fact." Not even a series of ag­ ple of pure i n te l l igence myopia:
gressive moves before the attack, un­ Adolf H itler. And it is in H itler that
m i stakably tipping the attacker's we can find the perfect case history
hand, cou ld d issuade them. And so of human fai l ures that bedev i l i n­
josef Sta l in in 1 94 1 refused to tel l igence j udgments. -+
bel ieve a German i nvasion was i m­
m inent - "B ritish provocation" he To be contin ued . . .
contemptuously scrawled across
one inte l l igence report givin g the
precise day of the Nazi attack - and
as a resu lt, the Germans vi rtual ly
w i ped out the unalerted Red A i r
Force in the first few hours, their task
eased considerably by Soviet planes -�
parked wingtip to wingtip. Twenty- ·�
seven years later, the three top com- . •
manders of NATO went off on leave
after discounting intell igence reports
warn ing of an i m m i nent Soviet i n­
vasion of Czechoslovakia; several Ernest Volkman is a writer on in­
hours after reach ing thei r vacation telligence and national security affairs
spots, they heard on the rad io that whose work has appeared in a wide
the invasion they had deemed "im- · variety of publications.Currently a Con­
possi ble" had taken place. . tributing Editor of Penthouse magazine,
The consequences of the self­ where he handles national security in­
d ecept i o n process can be vestigations, his reports on intelligence
catastrophic, for fundamenta l ly a l l technology · also appear in Military
Science and Technology, and Defense
i ntel l i gence is about warn ing. Is
Science magazines. A former prize­
danger i m minent? I s the other side
winning National Editor and National
about to move? What are the sign ifi­ Correspondent for Newsday, Volkman
cant trends? As Sta l i n'� b l indness i n is the author of Legacy· of Hate, pub-
1 94 1 proved, intel l igence most . lished in 1 982. The Devil's Sabbath, his
often is on ly as good as the people· history of American intelligence opera­
who are supposed to be using it. By tions, will be published by Morrow early
no means, however, is Sta l i n's ap- in 1 985.

Espionage 127
 '' ast night when I was with my wife I ac­

L cidentally spoke your name."

Alison didn't answer David immediately.
Slanted sunlight blasted from be.tween the clouds in
the California sky and glinted off the highly polished
gray hood of her 1936 Chevy convertible. Tommy
Dorsey's band was playing swing on the dashboard
radio. The car was five years old, but Alison regarded
it as if it were the newest model. She had only
recently been able to afford such a luxury.
' ' What was your wife's reaction?" she asked at last,
shifting gears for a steep grade in the twisting road .
David threw back his hand,some head, his blond
hair whipping forward in the turmoil of wind, and
laughed . "None. She didn't understand me, I 'm sure.
There's so much she doesn't understand about me.' '
Alison didn't caution him to be more discreet , as
she usually did. She seemed lulled by their motion
through the warm, balmy evening. Her long auburn
hair flowed gracefully where it curled from beneath
the scarf that covered her head and was knotted
beneath her chin. She knew that she and David were
/

an enviable young couple in her sleek convertible,

speeding along the coast road in mountainous Big
Sur Country, with the shaded, thick redwood forest ·
on their right and the sea, charging the shore and
crashing sun-shot against the rocks on their left .
He extended a long arm and languidly, affec­
tionately, dragged his fingertips across the shoulder
'Of her wool sweater. She felt her heart accelerate at
his touch.
"My wife doesn't know you're a spy," he said.
Alison turned her head toward him and smiled.
" Let's hope not."
Esp ionage 1.29
Illustration b y Bruce Baker
 She braked the convertible, shifted gears . again ,
and pulled to the side o f the highway. Then she
drove up the narrow, faintly defined dirt road that
led to their usual picnic place. Within a few minutes,
· the car was parked in the shade of the redwood trees
of smaller variety that grew in that wild section of
California .
She got the wicker picnic basket from the trunk,
watching David's tall, lanky frame as he quite care­
fully spread the blanket on the grass. David was a
methodical person, which was w.hy ·he was good at
his job ; he had a talent and fondness for order.
Alison stopped and deftly straightened the seams of
·

her nylons, then joined him.

Alison Carter and David Blaine both worked at
Norris Aircraft Corporation just north of Los
Angeles. Alison was a secretary and David the chief
of security. The people who were paying Alison for
information about the top-secret XP2 5 pursuit plane
had advised her to strike up an acquaintance with
the plant security chief. If she were caught, the rela­
tionship would be a valuable insurance policy.
Of course Alison had followed their advice. She
believed everything they told her. s he had been
barely eighteen when Karl Prager had first ap­
proached her, had first become her lover. Nineteen
when their affair was over and she was in too deeply
as an informer ever to hope she might get out .
Not that it had bothered Alison to sell "industrial .
information." Ob, she knew she was wor�g for the
Germans, actually, but what difference did that
make? It wasn't as if America was at war. Politics
didn't interest Alison in the slightest , and the· money
Karl paid her more than doubled her meager salary
earned as a secretary.
Alison hadn't had to think of a way to meet David.
Her rather extravagant habits, considering her 'salary,
prompted him to ask her some routine questions one
day. When she'd told him she was th� beneficiary
of her late father's will, he'd believed her.

1 :� 0 Espionage
 They'd seen each other again, after business hours,
despite the fact that David was married. Apparently
he and his wife Glenda were having difficulties. For
· Alison, the business of seducing the shy and precise
David Blaine quickly became pleasure. And by the
time he found out she was violating company rules,
he was willing to overlook her transgressions.
On Saturdays, David would often give Glenda an
excuse, that probably even she didn't believe, and
he and Alison would drive up the coast road in
Alison's convertible and picnic with sandwiches and
champagne in their private, lover's hideaway.

A
lison sat down beside David on the blanket.
She untied and removed her head scarf,
plucking out the bobby pins helping to hold
it in place. Through the trees, the undulating blue­
green sea was barely visible, but she could hear its
enigmatic whisper on the rocky beach.
David paused in unwrapping the sandwiches. He
dug into his. shirt pocket and handed Alison a folded
sheet of paper patterned with scrawled numbers.
"Here," he said casually, "these are the performance
· specifications you asked for."
The figures represented the data on the experi- ·

mental plane's latest test flight . Alison accepted the

paper with a smile and slipped it into a pocket of
her skirt. She knew that David took the business of
revealing company information no more seriously
than she did. He didn't know to whom she was giv­
ing the information - probably he assumed it was
a rival aircraft manufacturer - and he didn't care.
It was his love affair that was important to him, that
had consumed his very soul, and not dry columns
of figures that meant nothing except to an
aeronautical engineer. He knew he'd be fired if the
company found out about Alison and him, but he
could always get another job of some sort. And he'd
still have Alison.
After they'd eaten the ham sandwiches and

E spionage 1j1
finished the champagne, David looked at her with
his level blue eyes. His head was resting in her lap,
and she was stroking his fine blond hair that was
j ust beginning to thin at the crown of his head.
Alison had thought the first time she saw David that
he looked very much like movie .star Richard
Widmark.
"There's so much I want to say to you today," he
told her.
"Not now," she said, bending her body and kiss­
ing him on the lips. " Let's not talk now."
As usual, David saw her point of view and agreed
with it.
An hour later, in the purpling twilight, Alison lay
on her back and watched a plane drone high
overhead in the direction of the sea. A U.S. Navy
plane, she noted, on a routine nighttime training
mission.
David was asleep beside her, his deep, regular
breathing merging with the sounds of the plane and
the eternal sighing of the sea. Though her body was
very still alongside his sleeping form, Alison's mind
was tortured and turning. .
Not that she had any real choice. Her time of
choices was over. She wished David had never told
her about speaking her name in front of his wife.
But he had. And Alison knew that he might speak
her name again in the wrong circumstances, even
if tomorrow he still saw things her way.
Quietly, she rose from the blanket and fished in
her straw purse for her key ring. She walked to her
car, the tall grass tickling her bare feet and ankles,
thinking tomorrow, tomorrow . . .
She unlocked and opened the car's trunk, and left
it open as she returned to stand over David . She was
holding a small revolver that she'd gotten from the
trunk, the gun they had given her. .
Alison didn't want to miss where she was aiming,
didn't want to hurt him more than necessary. She
did love him .

13l Espionage
 She knelt beside David, placing the gun barrel
inches from his temple, and glanced in all directions
. to make certain · they were alone. In the sudden chill
breeze rushing in from the ocean, she drew in her
breath sharply and squeezed the trigger.
The crack of the gun seemed feeble in the vastness
·

of mountains and sea.

Alison sat with her eyes clenched shut until the
sound of David moving on the blanket ceased. Then,
still not looking at him , she returned to the car and
got a shovel from the trurik. ·
She wrapped David's still body in the blanket and
dragged it deeper into the forest . She began to dig.
In a very few hours, halfway around the world ,
a signal would b e given, and the Japanese would at- .
tack Pearl Harbor. War would immediately be
declared, not only against Japan but against Ger­
many and Italy as well. The rules of the g;tme Alison
was being forced to play would abruptly change.
Who knew if David would have been willing to con­
tinue to play if the stakes were real? Who could say
what else he might have accidentally let slip to his
wife? Alison knew that much more than her job, and
perhaps a criminal record , depended on David's
silence now. Her survival was at stake.
As she cast loose earth over the huddled, mo­
tionless form in the blanket, Alison didn't realize she
was burying a ring in David's pocket, the engage­
ment ring he had intended to give her when he
awoke. The ring with her initials engraved inside the
band. The ring wrapped loosely in a copy of the let­
ter he had written to his wife, confessing everything
and explaining why he was leaving her.
Alison worked frantically with the shovel,' feeling
her tears track hotly down her cheeks. At least
David's war was over. He was at peace. Her war was
just beginning, and look what it ha� already forced
her to do.
She would be one of the first to realize why hers
was ·a losing cause. -+

E s p ionage I .:B
 A
CAMEO
DISAPPEARANCE
by E. Brooks Peters

T
he moon hung like an art-deco light bulb in the sky. It was �
one of those glorious New York nights · in mid-October,
when the sky is crystal clear and the temperature drops
to that delightful degree that permits the wearing of a short fur
wrap without concern for warmth . The kind of night when you
feel as if you can see all the way across the Hudson to New Jersey
and pick out the families huddling in front of their television sets
watching the news, trying to catch a glimpse of you as you whirl
through town on a series of social events.
The crowd at Lincoln Center was brisk and eager. It was the .
opening of the new season , and the majority of men were wear­
ing tuxedoes. Those who didn't couldn't afford to rent them and
probably had standing room tickets anyway. The men smoked
cigars and rattled on about the market and horses. The women
listened, making mental notes to buy and sell, and flashed their
jewels to keep their men off-guard.
The sleek black limo snaked its way through the gnarled traffic
along Broadway. Inside, Tyler Cliff stretched his legs, checked his
black satin bow tie, and poured himself another Glenfiddich. He
was going to be late. No way around it . The only way to get to
the Met by eight would be to get out of the limo and walk. But

I .H Espionage

Illustration by Rob Richards

�F===
· =======
=

Tyler Cliff didn't walk to the opera.

He buzzed his chauffeur. The black screen slid into its slot and
Tyler could see the face of the chauffeur in the rear-view mirror.
"How many more blocks? '.' Tyler asked through the divider.
"Just around the bend here, sir," the young man spoke eagerly.
"Another five minutes at the most, sir." Tyler put his drink back
on the bar and leaned forward .
" Pull up to the side entrance as usual."
' 'As you wish , sir. Sorry about the traffic," the young driver
apologized .
"It's not your fault we're late," Tyler responded i n a voice which
betrayed a slight irritation. He was still furious with Valerie. Why
did she have to cancel their date at the last minute? It was her
idea to go to the opera in the first place. . He'd already seen it last
year and, frankly, he just wasn't up to another night of false smiles
and moist handshakes. He would just have to give his other ticket
away..
The stretch slinked along 66th Street. Smoothly the chauffeur
pulled alongside the curb, a few feet from a tall embankment of
steps.
','We're here.' '
Tyler looked at his watch. It was five past eight. They couldn't
have started the damned opera yet . That wouldn�t allow enough
time for the well-dressed Monday nighters to see Tyler Cliff make
his entrance. They were all waiting for him, eager to get a glimpse
of the world famous fashion designer. The most eligible bachelor
in all of America. The incredibly handsome, wildly sophisticated,
vulgarly rich Tyler Cliff. Everyone wanted to see him . He was the
most sought after guest at every party, every social, every open­
ing. He was the star of New York's social world.
Tyler pulled the little mirror down from the carpeted wall in
front of him . He checked himself. His face maintained the special
good looks of a young model. Firm tan skin , clear blue eyes, fine
wavy blonde hair. . His dark eyebrows evoked a hidden sense of
mystery. He'd made a fortune selling his clothes by modeling many
of them himself. Tyler could not help but chuckle, still, when he
thought of his incredible success.
As Tyler stepped out of the limo; he noticed a small group of
· men circling the fountain outside Lincoln Center. They looked
Hispanic. They were dressed in jeans and leather jackets, and were

1 36 Espionage
====�
certainly out of place at the opening night of the Met. One of them
nudged the fellow next to him, saying something in Spanish and
pointing at Tyler.
Tyler wrote off his slight emotional reaction as another ·exam­
ple of the discomfort one feels in being too well-dressed on oc­
casion, especially in a city of extremes. He moved quickly past
them · and through the Met 's revolving doorS.
There was an audible murmur when Tyler entered the lobby
of the opera house. People milling about, regarding schedules, sip­
ping wine, chatting about what theY'd done that summer, all
stopped and stared. Some smiled at him. Some nodded to each
other and spoke in hushed tones. Others avoided eye contact and
lifted their heads a bit higher and spoke in louder voices. S till
others, most of them younger women, moved closer to get a better
look at Tyler Cliff.
He was joined by a group of friends almost immediately. Paul
Raleigh, the owner of a large department store, was there with
his wife. Raleigh slapped Tyler on the back and remarked how
well he was looking. Zarah Raleigh looked up into Tyler's face and
opened her big eyes even wider as she took in his good looks.
She looks like Imelda Marcos tonight, Tyler thought, and she
seemed to be as demanding. Tyler noticed that she was wearing
a magnificent cameo brooch just below her neck. It was an ex­
tremely beautiful rendition of Liberty.
She clutched his arm . "Oh Tyler, you must have dinner with
us soon. I 've purchased the most divine new apartment in the
Trump Tower. You can see Connecticut from my window."
"I hope you have blinds," Tyler replied, a chiding look in his eye.
"Let 's go in, it 's ,about to start," Zarah tugged Tyler towards the
entrance to the theater. " Isn't she just . . . brilliant? She's one of
my dearest friends . . . ," Zarah spoke as they moved through the
crowds. She was referring to the evening's star, Mariella Bravas,
the Argentine soprano who raised many eyebrows when she
dropped the seventh veil doing Salome. She was opening the
season for the third t ime. Tyler had known her since she was a
classmate of his at Yale. He had listened to het warm-ups in the
shower. Theirs had been a tempestuous affair and even after all
these years, she and Tyler enjoyed a warm friendship.
Tyler surveyed the scene as they joined the throngs moving into
the auditorium. He looked up towards the "Family Circle." Stand-

Espionage 137
 ing right in front of the balcony was the Hispanic who'd pointed
at him outside. Tyler smiled, realizing it had been silly for him
·

to have felt threatened by the man .

The rest of the people in the "Circle" were seated and Tyler
had to squint to make out faces. Most of them were peering down
at him . Some used opera glasses. One girl nudged her neighbor
a,nd giggled.
Zarah left Tyler at the fourth row. She and her husband had
chairs - seats with their names engraved on the backs. They were
true patrons of the opera , donating thousands of dollars a year
to the institution . Zarah was sure to remind Tyler that she had
paid for tonight's production . She always did. Tyler made his way
to his seat in the second row and sat down .
The lights began to dim. Tyler looked at the people surround­
ing him - over fifty, properly dressed, plump with good life,
.perhaps a trifle weary - and then remembered his extra ticket .
He checked to see if there was anyone standing who could use
the free seat . He thought he saw a tall blond man wearing a trench
coat standing by the door. He looked out of place. Tyler decided
to ask him if he needed a seat. But as he was about to get up, the
lights went out and he could no longer see the man .
The conductor stepped forward and made his .way through the
mass of black garbed musicians in the orchestra. He stood on his
pedestal and bowed to the audience. Then , with a click of the
baton, he started to conduct. The music was ethereal , romantic
stuff. The opera was Dialogue Of the Carmelites - the story of
a group of defiant nuns during the French Revolution.
The curtain was raised . There, on stage, was a huge cross raised
on a platform . On the cross, one could make out the prostrate
figures of twenty nuns, lying flat on their sto m achs, their arms
outstretched in prayer. It was a st irring vision. Tyler was
mesmerized anew. ·

The nun at the front of the stage rose and stepped forward . It
was Mariella Bravas. She opened her mouth to sing, but then there
was a faint sound of breaking glass and instead of singing, she
screamed .
There was a brief second of absolute stillness during which the
scream echoed throughout the house. Then, as if each moment
were frozen in time, figures moYed in slow motion; consecutively,
people began to react .

138 Espionage
======�
The orchestra threw down its instruments as wisps of a thick,
greasy smoke arose from the orchestra pit, clouding the entire
area. The black figures of the musicians scratched at the
transparent smoke amid wild cries of pain that shattered the
silence. Then, the smoke rose to the stage and the 'nuns began
to cough and sputter, interspersing their heaving with high-pitched
screams.
It still wasn't clear to those in the orchestra seats exactly what
had happened. Then, as if a lightning bolt had struck him, Tyler
felt a sharp pain blast through his nose. His lungs went into spasms
and his eyes shot out tears of undiluted excruciating agony. He
grabbed at his throat, scratching at his neck - and recognized the
occurrence. It was the same gas that had been exploded in his
face when he was a student at Yale in the sixties. Someone had
dropped a tear gas bomb at the Met .
The place exploded into pandemonium . Tyler looked back to
Zarah. She had fallen down and her husband was trying to lift
her. He was hampered somewhat by a very old woman in mink
who scrambled out from underneath them. Row by row, the
crowds in the orchestra seats scurried to get to the side entrances.
People were screaming, tripping, crying into their handkerchiefs ,
and gasping for air. The rich and mighty clawed a t each other like
rats locked in a trunk.
Tyler looked upwards. As yet , the gas had not risen high enough
to affect the people in the balcony seats, though they hung over
the railing inspecting the scene of ruin below. Then, as the gas
rose, infiltrating their space, the first balcony . cried out in unison
and Tyler could see people jumping off the front tier to the or­
chestra seats below. He noticed the Hispanic was no longer there.
Tier by tier, the screams continued. The theater was completely
inundated with the poisonous gas and everyone wanted out .
Tyler cut across a row by hopping over t wo seats and running
for the side. He propped the door open with his back and covered
his face with his handkerchief. He looked for Zarah and Paul but
he couldn't see them . Giving up, he dashed through the door and
out into the parking lot. At last he could feel the sweet, glorious
influx of fresh air.
People started to rush by him , pushing , shoving, greedily suck­
ing in clean air. He started to move with th� tide but , just as he
was passing a young couple giving each other mouth-to-mouth

E s p ionage 1 .'\ 9
�F=
resuscitation, he saw the old woman in mink collapse to the
ground. He bent down, scooped her u.p in his arms, and carried
her to a less crowded area. She looked around with frightened
eyes, clutching her purse tight against her bosom . Tyler tried to
take her hand but she clenched her fist and pulled herself away
from him . Then she bulldozed into the crowd and disappeared.
Outside the auditorium, Tyler caught up with Zarah and Paul.
They were standing against the fountain, leaning over its refreshing
spray. Zarah had burst into tears - her body bobbing up and down
like a piece of driftwood in surf - and Paul stroked her back with
his right hand.
" Good God! What a nightmare ! " Paul cried out when he saw
Tyler approaching.
·�re you both alright?"
"I'm fine. Stomach feels like someone took a baseball bat to it ,"
Paul answered. Then indicating his wife, he added, "She's a wreck.
The stench hit her right in the face. And she tore her gown." He
consoled her by holding her closer to him .
" Who would do such a terrible thing? " Zarah screeched, her
question cut short by her own angry scream . She grabbed at her
neck, at the torn fabric of her gown, and collapsed to the con­
crete pavement .
"My brooch! The cameo! Oh no! " she cried, tears shooting from
her dark brown eyes like bullets. "I 've lost my brooch ! "
It was true. She must have tripped on the satin length of her
train when she fell, thereby pulling the fabric so taut that the
brooch had popped off.
"It must have fallen off," Zarah sighed, her tears quickly spent .
"Come on, dear, we have to leave," Paul abruptly cut in.
" Do you want me to go back and look for it?" Tyler asked Zarah .
"No! " Paul answered abruptly for his wife.
"It won't take long, Paul," Zarah implored, but then something
in Paul 's gaze caused her to cease. "No, Tyler. Thanks for asking.
You'd never find it anyway, And it wasn't worth anything; it was
a gift . I wore it for sentimental reasons," she sniffled.
"Well , if you say so," Tyler said . "Take care of yourselves. See
you again."
· Zarah smiled and gently nodded her head goodbye. Paul grabbed
her arm and pulled her away, and Tyler couldn't help but notice
that Paul seemed unusually agitated, even in these extremely

1 40 Esp ionage
=====� agitating circumstances. But as Zarah stepped towards the waiting
limousine, she squealed in pain.
"Ow! My leg!" She pulled back the hem of her gown, expos­
ing a mammoth bruise on her shin. It resembled an eggplant .
"I must have hurt myself when I fell ," she said in a whimper-
ing whine.
"How did you fall?" Tyler asked, staring at the strange bruise.
"I don't know."
"Looks like someone kicked you with a stiletto heel."
"Enough." Paul interrupted. "Really, now, Zarah, we must go! "
Tyler watched silently as Paul helped Zarah inside the car. There
was definitely something odd about Paul's behavior, Tyler thought .
· But right now, he couldn't put his finger on it . He decided to hang
around the Center and see what the police came up with after

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Espionage 141
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their investigation of the gas explosion . Tyler waved at the cou­
ple as their limo pulled away. Then he felt someone tap his
shoulder as he was moving back toward the building.
"Mr. Cliff, may I have your autograph , please?" she said , gig­
gling childishly.
" I . . . I 'm not . . . " 1)rler tried to back out but the grin on the
girl's face immediately began to transform into the ugly shape of
a sneer. Tyler did not want a sneer on the face of a prospective
customer, even if she wouldn't look well in his clothes.
' ' I 'm not adverse to it," he smiled. The sneer vanished from her
face and was replaced by a charming grin. He signed the pink sheet
she handed him and wrote, It 's your life, honey! in his bold
script. That was his motto; part of the ad campaign that had sold
his clothes and made him a name to reckon with in the fashion
world.
"Thanks a lot, Mr. Cliff," she squealed, as he performed a mock
bow and turned on his heel. Over his shoulder he heard her
yell - "You're gorgeous, Tyler ! "

T
h e backstage area was in a state o f turmoil. The police had
blocked off the dressing . rooms from the press and the
curious, but when'1)rler Cliff walked into the receiving area,
and nodded to Johnny, the security guard who knew him well,
he was permitted entrance.
Roger Stevens, publicity director for the opera company, ran
over to Tyler and threw his hands up in disgust .
" 1)rler! It's just too dreadful! I can't believe anyone would do
such a loathsome thing! "
"What about Bravas? " Tyler inquired. "Is she okay?" It would
be a disaster if she lost her voice.
At that point, Stevens turned a dark blue and began to whimper
uncontroHably.
"She's blind, Tyler! Totally blind! " he screamed. The whole
room heard him . The press raced to the phones, and the exit doors
for cabs back to their offices. The news was no longer that a bomb
had been dropped at the Met , and hundreds of the rich had been
exposed to danger; no, the news was that Mariella Bravas was
blind . The world's greatest opera singer blinded by a terrorist's
poisonous gas explosion! It was a front page story!
1)rler Cliff reacted to the news calmly, betraying none of the

14Z Espionage
 '
grief he felt . If she was permanently blind, it was a tragic loss.
�
He had to see her.
"Is she still here," he whispered to Roger Stevens.
"Yes . . . the ambulance only just arrived. Can you believe it?
Tne world's fmest voice, the great Bravas, and the ambulance takes
a half hour to arrive ! "
Suddenly, there was a commotion behind h im , closer to the
dressing room area. Someone cried out , "It's her! I t 's Bravas! "
Behind the crowd , the door to Bravas' dressing room was
opened and a portion of a stretcher was visible. And throughout
the room the rich mellifluous vibrato of Mariella Bravas wailed:
"The bastards! I 'll kill them. I 'll kill them all ! " Then her head
passed the barrier of the door and the roomful of reporters and
detectives fell silent . Mariella Bravas ' 'face was hidden behind a
series of white bandages, the only opening a slit for her mouth
from which the cries and curses escaped.
Roger Stevens turned back to Tyler Cliff and almost fell to his­
knees, "Oh Tyler, I can't bear to watch ! It's so . . . so . . . ghastly! "
At the sound of the name, Tyler, Mariella Bravas stopped her
litany of profanity. She propped her head up and turned her band­
aged face in the direction of Roger S tevens.
"Roger, darling, did you say Tyler? Tyler Cliff? "
"Yes, my diva, he's right here. He was there. He was a witness.
He knows . . . "
" Shut up,,.Roger. Enough of the background. Tyler! Come here
·and soothe me."
Tyler Cliff stepped toward the great Bravas. "Mariella, my dear,"
he whispered into her ear, as he knelt next to her stretcher. " Let
me take you to the hospital.· ! 'had no idea you were hurt ." He
clasped her left hand and gave it a tender squeeze.
"No . . . please don't bother, Ty. I 'll be okay. My ambulance has
arrived."
"Do they know who did i t ? " Tyler asked her quietly.
"They say it was a group of Hispanics. Terrorists," she answered
in a hoarse voice. _

Tyler leaned closer. Pressing his cheek against hers he could still
smell the tear gas in her hair.
"The bastards! " she whisper�d again, but her voice trailed off
as the searing pain in her eyes caused her to pass out .
Tyler rose and called to the awaiting ambulance men . "Take her

Esp ionage 14 3
�F=
to the hospital immediately. I ' m afraid she's in shock."

T
he streets were thick with taxi cabs and out-of-town cars.
Tyler Cliff had decided not to take his limo back to his
penthouse apartment. It would be a long walk to 8 1st Street
and Central Park West, but it would ' do him good .
Tyler 'went over the facts i n his mind, as he stepped quickly
along Columbus Avenue: The group of Hispanic men standing
around the fountain . The one standing in the family circle. Then,
the strange blond man in the trench coat at the door, directly
in line with the aisle of seats that Paul and Zarah Raleigh sat in.
He must have jumped over the seats when the bomb first exploded
and grabbed the brooch and Zarah tripped and fell against the
old woman. He wanted the cameo. But why? Could the brooch
really be the reason the terrorists tear-gassed 4000 people ,at the
opening of the Met? It was too extreme. It didn't make sense. There
were a thousand other means of taking it away from her. Besides,
what could be in that cameo that made it so valuable?
Suddenly, Tyler remembered something. A detail he had
overlooked in the mad rush to seats and the hysteria that followed.
That damn cameo, he thought. Of course. He turned around and
hailed a cab. Raleigh had sotpe explaining to do.

T
yler arrived at Trump Tower a lit�le' after nine-thirty, but
there was no answer when the nightman buzzed the
Raleigh's apartment. Tyler excused himself and then
sneaked past the guard as another visitor approached. He took ,
the elevator to their floor and found the Raleigh's door open.
Security in Trump was good, but not good enough to leave a door
wide open in New York City.
He entered the sumptuous space and walked briskly across the
marble floor. He knew instantly that something was wrong. Ter­
ribly wrong. His heels clacked as he made his way into the " r�c"
room, clearly the room in which Paul and Zarah held their par­
i'ies. It was a voluptuous space, replete with a screening room that
included four-foot video displays and arcade games. The room
smelled of leather. The vinyl couches had been sprayed with the
odor and it continued to cling to the air like fall-out .
Tyler crossed the room and passed the bar. He noticed a glass
· Of half-touched bourbon on the bar. Next to that he saw the

1 44 Espionage
=======�
vestiges of a line of cocaine. Poor Zarah, he thought. Still inhal­
ing the rich man's aspirin .
Something on the mirror holding the line of coke caused Tyler
to stop and move in closer. The razor blade used to cut and grind
the expensive crystals into a fine powder was stained. Tyler shud­
dered. There was a drop of dark red blood on it .
He ran behind the bar, and then he saw her. Zarah was lying
huddled in a heap, her long black hair crumpled in a hideous furry
ball held tightly in her fist. It was her fall . Looking at her head,
Tyler could make out the thinning gray hair of a very old woman.
Poor Zarah . He knelt and lifted her head with his hand . He was
extremely careful not to make any noise but his knees cracked as
he went down. The sound of the snap echoed throughout the
room. .
Deftly, he inspected her neck. No pulse. She was dead. Then,
her hand fell from within the bar and Tyler could see the streaks
of red that wound their. way down from her wrist to her fingers.
Suicide? Tyler looked at the series of gashes along her left wrist.
They were deep . . . too deep. It was a botched job. Zarah was
left-handed. She would never have been able to cut herself so deep­
ly with her less-used right hand . Raleigh . 1}rler's mind raced with
scenarios. Was he dead, too? Was he in the bathroom, hanging
from the shower nozzle? Or was he responsible for murdering his
beloved wife? What possible motive could he have? Tf ler dis­
missed the idea immediately. Raleigh would have known his wife
was left-handed. He wouldn't make such a mistake.
Suddenly, Tyler was surprised by the cold numbing sensation
of a revolver's tip positioned at the base of his neck.
He turned around, feeling · the gunhead follow his movements
tightly. He looked up and was not surprised. It was the blond
man in the ugly trench coat.
"She was a very unhappy woman," the blond said, in an ac­
cent thick with a southern drawl.
"She is now," Tyler responded, getting up. The blond pulled
his gun closer to himself.
"No tricks, now, Mr. Jet-Set," he spat out . "Follow me."
He led 1}rler to the bedroom . Tyler could see Raleigh spread
out on the bedspread. They moved closer, and he could tell by
the acute smile on Raleigh's face that he had been poisoned.
"Why did you have to kill them?" Tyler asked , his voice hushed

Espionage 14 5
�F=
in horror.
"Standard procedure," the man mumbled. "They'll both be writ­
ten up as suicides. It's not uncommon among the very rich ."
"Only a fool would believe that. But why them?" Tyler shot
back, his horror now becoming fury.
"We needed something. Something that contained pertinent and
confidential information."
"The cameo ? "
"Yes. You noticed i t was missing ? "
" Of course. S h e told me.' '
"That 's what I was afraid of."
Tyler was disturbed by the tone of his last remark . "You're �ot
going to kill me, too, just because I know you needed some stupid
brooch ! " he commented.
" Later. First we have to get the cameo."
" What? But you just killed them! You don 't have the cameo?
Why did you kill them? "
"They were spies, Mr. Cliff. We were delighted to kill them, with
or without the cameo." The man chuckled , exposing his gray ·

teeth.
· "Spies! " Tyler was incredulous. " I don't believe it ! "
The man reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a wallet
con ta ining a badge and an I . D. The blond was from the C I A .
" Have you ever heard o f FALN?" h e inquired.
"I don' t know what the letters stand for but they 're the group .
that wants Puerto Rico to be independent of the United States,"
Tyler answered.
" Exactly." .
"Now tell me what the Raleighs could possibly have to do with
that , except that they were witnesses to this evening's attack! "
Tyler shouted.
" Cool it , Jack. You seem to think you're so smart . . . well, you
didn't know your friends that well. The Raleighs were agents of
the FA LN. She was trained as a terrorist during the second world
war - there is some evidence that she was involved in th e
assassination attempt on Truman, but that was a long time ago.
Her real name was Calienta Rojas. She bribed Raleigh into marry­
ing her and then brainwashed him into working for her people.
He wired top s.ecret files through to Puerto Rico by way of stock
figures sent electronically to his company headquarters in San

1 46 Espionage
=:=======�
Juan . Tonight's bombing of the Met was their little brainchild,"
he explained, without expressing any emotion.
"But why would they bother to show up? " Tyler wanted to
know.
" The perfect alibi," the man answered. "Their seats were next
to the exit. That's why I watched them so closely. We had word
from a reliable source that they would be attending tonight's
festivities, and that Zarah would be wearing a cameo that con­
tained the latest top secret information she would pass along to
her husband's contacts."
"But why tear gas the Met ? " Tyler insisted.
"They knew . they were being trailed. They needed to cause a
disturbance to distract us. It worked. She managed to hide the ·

cameo. I haven't been able to find it here."

" Sounds to me like you need to take a refresher course in es­
pionage," Tyler remarked archly.
"Why don't you do your country a favor, M r. Cliff, and give
us the cameo?"
"What ? " Tyler replied, shocked . " I don't have it ! "
' ' Then explain to me why you raced back here after the explo­
sion . . . except to deliver the missing item! Correct? " The man
spoke in clipped tones, cocking his gun at Tyler.
" I told you I don't have it ."
"Prove it."
"I refuse to answer any more of these scurrilous accusations.
I want to call my lawyer.' '
"Strip ! " the man ordered.
" How dare you ! " Tyler cried back. "I can hire the best lawyer
in the country - in the world! - and let you hang by the thin­
nest shred of evidence you have against me! ' ' He laughed in the
blond's face.
Then a voice broke thro ugh Tyler's laughter, a beautiful voice.
It was Mariella Bravas.
"Your humor in the face of death, Tyler, is commendable."
Tyler spun around and saw -the great diva standing at the door
to the bedroom. She was wearing a long-flowing white evening
gown. She held a revolver in her hand.
"Mariella," he gasped . "Your eyes . . . they 're normal ! "
' 'A ruse, my dear. Just a simple ruse. I thought i t best to get out
of that hell-hole as best I could without being interrogated by the

Espio nage 1 47
��=
police. Roger thought up the blind bit . He's such a c reative
publicist, don't you think?" she said, her brilliant smile brighter
than the moon .
"What are you doing here ? ' ' the CIA a:gent cried out .
"Wouldn't you like to .know, you idiot," she barked bac k .
"You 've screwed u p ever since you started. Why don't you g o back
to Washington and arrest congressmen, or something."
She took his gun. "Get o ut of the way," Mariella snapped . He
moved to the side and promptly shut up.
" How do you fit into this. little thriller? " Tyler asked her.
" I fit in perfectly, darling. I 'm a Red Spy."
" I don't believe it ."
"Oh believe it , Ty. Not all opera lovers are republicans."
"But what do the communists have to do with _ FA LN ? "
· 'A free Puerto Rico would b e very good news for Fidel, don't
·

you think? "

"You'll never succeed! " the CIA man interrupted, his face as
red as a stop sign .
" Shut up! " Mariella replied, pointing her gun at hirp and pull­
ing the trigger. The blond fell to his knees and cried out in con­
siderable pain . He'd survive.
"Anyway, as I was saying," Mariella continued , "Roger had ar­
ranged for a private ambulance to take me home for a quick
shower, a change of clothes, and a short trip here to pick up the
cameo. I never expected you'd be here. Although I 'm not surprised;
you have a knack for uncovering dirt ." ·

"It was because of the cameo," Tyler replied cautiously. " I was
heading home, thinking about the missing brooch, when I
remembered where I 'd first seen it . It was such an unusual cameo
it was hard to forget . I remembered it had been yours when we
were both at Yale. You told me that your father had given it to
you before he died and you left Argentina."
' ' I ' ve always enjoyed lying," she interrupted, smiling at him .
"Well , 1 can be taken for a ride sometimes. Especially when the
liar is so exotic a beauty."
" Thank you, Tyler."
"So, anyway, when I remembered the cameo, I got to thinking.
Why would Zarah be wearing your cameo? Unless . . . unless
Raleigh gave it to her. It crossed my mind that maybe you had
sold it to him because you were broke. I hurried over here to see

1 48 Espionage
====�
if that was the case. I was going to lend you some money."
"That 's very kind of you , dear, but you were wrong, weren' t
you ? "
" I sure was."
' ' I 'm sorry you had to get ptixed up in this whole thing. It would
have been better for you if you'd remained ignorant. Now I have
to think about what I can do with you . . . "
"But what about the cameo?"
" Dammit-, I keep forgetting. Where do you think it is? " -
"It was stolen ." Suddenly, as if inspired by his imminent death,
Tyler's mind reached a pinnacle of clarity. He saw the whole scene.
Zarah being kicked in the shins by the old woman in a mink coat
that was decades out of style. The old woman grabbing the brooch
as Zarah fell on top of her; then Tyler carrying her out the door,
the woman Clutching the cameo in her fist , fearful of anyone
catching her. She wasn't a spy, the old biddy. She was j ust a thief.
Tyler could not restrain the burst of laughter that exploded from
his body. How perfectly ridiculous, he realized.
"What is so funny! " Mariella demanded.
"The cameo! Some old woman stole it . You'll never get it back
now unless you attend every bridge party in Manhattan."
' ' I 'm in stitches," Mariella replied, sarcastically.
She pulled the gun back and was about to squeeze her finger
on the trigger when Tyler sprang forward, pressing the full weight
of his head against her gut , sending her sprawling against the wall.
The gun went off, shattering the mirror across the room. Both
Mariella and Tyler stopped to look at their reflections in the shards.
Then Tyler pulled both of her arms to"gether and tied them behind
her back with the belt sash of her dress.
" Damn you, Tyler! Don't turn me over to the police. I ' ll give
you anything . . . I ' ll . . . "
"Mariella, one of the advantages to being a multi-millionaire
is that no one can bargain with you. You should know better than
that .' '
· I don't want to spend the rest o f m y life behind bars! I hate
..

institutional food!
"Tyler! "
" I t 's your life, honey! " Tyler snapped back. With that , he
reached for the phone. He looked over at his old friend, Mariella
Bravas. She would look splendid in stripes. --+-

Esp ionage 149

D E A R DETECT I V E e Sta r r i n g B renda
Vacca ro . A modern m u rder myster y
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KA S H M I R ! RUN e Starri n g Pernel l

Roberts. W i th t he i r freedom and l ives
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CRUISE MISSILE e S t cm i n g Pete r

G rave�. A h a n d fu l ot d a r i n g men beg i n
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T H E C A N D Y M A N e Sta r r i n g George
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 I

YO\J (�A N''l,

. ..:"\· .

'�·�
�'i\\��":..:.:--'" -� . .

Ill ust rat io n

0}. R<>he rr
, Spi ke
 7o /he 9enllemen who manage
lhe Xemlin I lhe X9:JJ,
whichever is appropriale:

Vear cSirs:
:7/flhough you may bnow my name, for reasons fo 6e
covered somewhal laler in /his feller, gfeel cerlain /hal
you have never expecled lo hear direclly from m e. Xow­
ing how m en operale, /hal doe.rn 'I surpri.r� me al all. :JJul
g am (was/) lhe wife of Conrad Visslon, /he Conrachn
:?elroleum represenlalive who recenlly made a /rip lo
Y/(oscow for chs�ussions of drilhng eruipmenl wilh some of
you;. pelroleum people. :JJesides 6eing a parfner In /hal
6usiness, Conrad was an adVIser lo !he <7i. cS. governm en/,
which g am cerlain /hal you bnow (and bnew). g can see
your eyes srwnhng up, frying lo figure oul how g bnow
/hal /he man who came 6acb lo 7exas and lo me I".rn 'I !he
same Conrad VIsslon who slarled oul. Only a man would
have lo wonder.
Vic/you really lhinb /hal lhe way a person fooJs, lafbs,
and wafbs IS all /here is lo him / cShorl-sijhlecf.l cSomehow,
wilh alf lhe experience g•m !ole/ /hal you people have In
spying, g•d have expecled �ore ofyou.
OJ course lhis person I".r lhe same size, 6wfc/, coloring,
elc., as my hus6and was. :JJul ch"dn 'I if occur lo you !hal a
wife, more /han anyone else In lhe world, has occasion no/
only lo see and hear 6ul also lo smell and fasle her hus-
6ancll gl ch"dn '1/ 72Jhal hind of marriages do /hey have
over /here, anyway/ 7his ch�racler IS a lo! sallier /han
Espionage 153
 Conrad ever was.
Jfe memorized our friends and 6usiness associales pre!I!J
well, g musl admi/, and you even !.houg.h! lo rues/ion
Conrad (under sodium penlo!.hafP 9'm curious) a6ou! !.he
lechnirues wi!.h w_hic.h .he mabes love. :Bul you musl 6e a
humorless 6unc.h. Jfe doesn 'I .know any of our privale
Jobes or have any no/ion of !.he silly way we carry on in
6ed. 7.h a! 's sloppy worb. Very sloppy worb.
Conrad is eiiher dead, in which case g can 'I .help him
any, or .he 's 6eing .held secrelly, and !.hal seems lo 6e !.he
same siiualion . . !lJ g wen/ lo our governmenl wiih !.his,
!.h ey 'd s.ha.ke !.heir heads and !.hinb, ' 'Cii/fy woma� /' ' and
call (no!-) Conrad lo com e gel me and !abe me lo a
s.hrinb. g .know !.hem. 7.hey 'rf! men loo.
:Bu! g also .know Conrad (.knew him .P), and g under­
sland exac!ly w_.h a! .he 'd wan/ me lo do a6oul !.his. Conrad
loved money almosl as much as .he loved me and lh<? busi­
ness. Jfe 'd wan/ me lo mabe a .killing (6ad choice of
words, !.here) off of II. 72J.hic.h g in/end lo do.
Xow, don 'I !.hinb !.hal you can hill me or shoo/ me full
of drugs or any!.hing f).ke !.hal, and beep your man in place
over .here. 9've . sen/ hair 6rushings, shin fragmenls, all
hinds ofpersonal sluJ/from your represenlalive off lo !.he
company la6 and had !.hem analyzed, using a convenienl
. (slupid) go-6elween. 7.he 6Iis andpieces of Conrad leji
around !.he .house and in his l.hings were also collecled and
analyzed 7.he lwo do no/ ma!c.h . 7.hose resul!s are in a
safe place, where !.hey will come lo .bg.h! a/ once ij any-

I 54 Espionage
flung a/ all happens lo me, along wi.lh a copy of !his feller
_:_ 6y !he lime !his gels lo you. 9e!ling a/ m e willjeopar­
dize whalever if is !hal you 1'nlendfor !his fellow lo cfo.
Von 'I worry a6oul !his feller, eilher. You will nole !hal
if is poslmarbed 2/(oscow. g have a /of ofJriencfs who
/rave/ a greal deal, and some of !hem are prel!y remole
chance acrua1nla� ces. Von 'I lh1n.b you 'II gel anyplace lry­
l�g lo fine! oul which lourisl (no/ necess.arify :7/merican) 1'n
:Russia carried !his over jor me.
' ' l2Jhal is -she gei!J'ng ai.P ' ' g can feelyou wonder1'ng if,
aff lhe way across !he land�asses and !he oceans 6e!ween
us. 2/(oney, of course. l2Jhal efse.P g !ole!you Conrad
loves money, and we were much ahie in !hal. 7hough
!here is a fol of sloc.b, much properly, all b1ncfs of sluJ/,
your man is now 1'n conlrof of mosl of 1!. g'c/ have lo
divorce him 1'n order lo gel ha(f, accorchng lo 7exas law,
and g•m su;.e you woufcln 'I fLJe !hal b1nd of allen/ion
drawn lo ole! :/red, or whplever his name is. .
g wan/from you (g hope you 're sill1'ng down) a million
clollars, lo 6e deposiled.J'n a 0wiss 6anb accounl, whose
num6er is allachec/ 1'n !he sea/eel envelope herewilh. :7/nc/
hereajier, every year, a hundred andji}iy lhousand cfollars,
every Vecem6er 25/h. g !hough! !hal was appropriale -
Conrad was senlimenlaf a6oul Chris/mas. gn aclch!ion
(don 'I JILnch - !his won 'I cos/ you anylh1ng }, you can
send word lo :/red !hal g have a permanenl headache.
Jfe cfoesn '/ !urn me on, and he has 6acl 6realh. :7//so, his
6ig foes are longer !han !he res/, and Conrad's were exaclfy

Esp ionage 155

 . '
even. �hal 6o!hers me more !han almosl anylhing eire.
:711/ in a/1, g lbinb !hal you need lo pul a woman in !he
..7(923, or whalever. You missed loo many imporlanl
lhings. Xo6ocfy in !he o/Jice or !he governmenl agencies
will ever calch on !hal .:lred isn 'I Gonrad.. . !hal 's o6vious,
andyou were righl a6oul lhal. !JJuf no6ocfy can fool a wife
a6oul her hus6and. Xo6ocfy. :71 woman would beep remind­
ing you of !hal, and may6e you 'dpicb unm'arried men lo
dup/icale from now on. �hal would no! only help your aims
along, 6ul Ji would beep any olher woman from 6eing pul
in my predicamenl.
g loved Conrad. g could cheerfully scrag !he fol ofyou,
if !hal were possi6/e. :7fs Ji is, g can 6/eedyou a 6il.
You 'd 6eller 6e glad !hal my fo/bs raised me lo acl fi//e a
facfy and no! lo 6e grfj! ecly, olherwise you 'd really develop
a hemorrhage in !he waffel.
You may woncler how g can sruare felling Jred c1o whal­
ever 1/ is he is supposed lo do lo my counlry wLib my con­
science . . . or do you 6e/ieve in consciences/ g've walcbed a//
Ibis jocbeying aroundjor !he pas!jorly years, and 6e/ieve
me, g'm sicb of all ofyou on 6o!h sides of !he fence. g'm
sure !hal somewhere over !here !here 's some6ocfy jus! h'be
.:lred, foohng !he he// oul ofyou. gjus! hope my people
were 6righl enough lo picb a 6achelor.
Jfones!JY, men/
Yours conj/denlfy,
Bouise dneed 1Jisslon
cc Ifiled 1'n secure place

I 56 Espionage
"Errr . . . You were sho t out of a HO WITZER.
A ny more questions . . . ?"
 A cryptogram is a c! pher, and a ci pher is just a problem
begg ing to be solved - all it takes is brain power, intu ition,
and a dogged determ ination to succeed. Si nce these
characteristics pretty wel l describe ESPIONAGE readers, we
thought wed giv� you a l ittle cipher to dwell on.

Although solving a ci pher is its own re-w:a rd. we're adding

an incentive: The fi rst three readers to submit the correct solu­
tion to this ci pher will receive a free, one-year su bscription
to ESPIONAGE Magazi ne. Sim ply address your solutions . to
ESPIONAGE Magazine Cipher Contest, P.O. Box 1 1 84, Teaneck,
NJ 07666 ..

We ca n't tel l you much about this ci pher except, perha ps,
that it can be solved with pencil and paper, some coffee and
a clear eye. . Good Luck!

Word tra nspositions are a time-honored method of com­

munications security, thougt:l a little prim itive in the computer
age. To prove how perplexing they cou ld be to the pencil
and paper cryptanalysts of the past here's one for you to try:

For an immediate copy of the solution to this pu721e send an

SASE to : ESPIONAGE, EC- 1 . P.O. Box 1 1 84, Teaneck, N .J . 07666.
The solution will appear in the next issue of ESPIONAG E .

158 Espionage
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

- - -
PAGES
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

CIPHER # 1

A XQ B D AU S S E FXR M P T V DAY HRSHW MWOUY

XVN N Y FOM M K WAOV F H O I RY VRTVM NTNNH
AXQ BF KOI N M TVI U N PWOMY TFOUY ADIUK
TFSMA VO M N F VC NVW U N H MA C W BT F VEQ N N
QAU O K NQOUX D AYA S N W DW HFNEW GW I BV
TFXAH A AY U C AAO M S F M M PV KFSN M W I KAR
H AY T W F LS E X VO I M F MABHM B W T LQ OPKUO
TO F D F U D OA H EUVUY XIQNF H E STY A KS P E
B KQ L E XDNNS LY N I W K F T GW X KXGS KQ I OT
K LT U K H M F PW WA E N W VC K V E Q B S LS PA F H C
HIQTI U D IVF KUQFS L D VO S O K TC E F G Q RY
VRT M A T B S.F W BFTUO X I KAU V I H OA A X Q LW
T I SSA K B QVV B D Q KW BA M PA AKTDS HOSSS
L OT O F DBQPD FIN PE PW DAX OAC LU V D A BW
F KA E E OAA A K VFQLD IIUUS LDUMS HGIUN
TBE FE BUNNW TLKAH AXQ B D AU P O E lf Q C U
TFNTK HWOVV H LMVI TGVG E HAB U L VO T L E
BDUUF O K AYS K TA B M Y D OVV HOQBF HIIUN
X KI M S LDSTH PW Y O S TRSSR TGTG D THWKT

of has with so i m possible objectively say it in or in his

until was history stripes cl uttered vi rtua l ly facts to fi rst
whether flown sea conflict receive stripes wa r the
become tradition that to it who American was any land
fact 1 783 over the and myth is the impossible the or ac­
tua lly on the didn't and the sta rs and it state is design­
ed flag ever battle during Washi ngton sta rs after

Esp ionage . 1 59
 The Queen and Kin�
SOLUTION

Griswold 's interpretation of the

message follows:

' 1t says the Queen and King of Hearts, " said

Griswold, " and that 's impossible. If it were Q , J , the
Queen and Jack of Hearts, I would accept having
the Q come first . · I couldn't believe that anyone
would put Queen ahead of King. That would be too
anti-conventional . ' '
' ·
" And then it occurred to me that 'Jack' is an old
colloquialism for a servant . You have the King, the
Queen, and a head servant at court, a seneschal , or
something. Well, an olde'r term for .the card we call
a Jack, is 'Knave, ' which also means ' servant. ' What
if ' Q , K' does not stand for Queen and King of
Hearts, but for Queen and Knave of Hearts. ' ' '
" What if it does? " asked Baranof.
" The only reason, " said · Griswold, " w e
remember the older term i s that i t occurs ' in a
nursery rhynie whic.h retains its hold on us chiefly
because it plays an important role in 'Alice in
Wonderland. ' You probably remember now it
goes -

The Queen of Hearts

She made some tarts,
All on a summer's day;
The Knave of Hearts
He ·stole those tarts,
And with them ran away.

"Just substitute ' cookie' for ' tarts' and it tells the
story quite clearly. Don't you think so? "
It did . What could we say? -+

160 Espionage
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 Did you know ...

General Irwin Rommel, "The Desert Fox," was known for his
uncanny ability to thwart British plans and always hit the British
at their weakest point. In his North Africa Campaign of 1941-4 2 ,
his successes were legendary. It was as i f h e couldn't lose.
It is a little known fact, but Rommel had a reserved seat within
British military headquarters.
Attached to British headquarters was the American military at­
tache in Cairo, Colonel Bonner F. Fellers. Each evening, Fellers
filed detailed and accurate reports to Washington, as was his job.
Unfortunately, he radioed his messages in the BLACK code, which,
unbeknown to the Allies, the Germans had already broken. Each
night, therefore, German antennae welcomed his thorough bat­
tle status reports.
Within hours, Rommel was reading the briefings of the British
8th Army. Whatever Fellers reported, Rommel acted on -
trapping commando teams, sinking British ships, and in seven­
teen days, throwif!g the British back 300 miles.
Finally, as part of an allied security leak search, President
Roosevelt had Fellers' security measures investigated and recalled
him to Washington. Rommel lost his seat around the 8th Army
conference table, and the British started rolling the Afrika Korps
back to Thnis.

Steganograpby is the art of concealing messages. It includes

the science of secret inks, used to conceal information and orders
in times of war, but used equally effectively to conceal, shall we
say, "ill-conceived affairs of the heart ."
In his poem, "The Art of Love," Ovid advised "A Letter is also
safe and escapes the eye when written in new milk; touch it with
coal dust and you will read. That too will deceive which is writ­
ten with a stalk of moistened flax, and a pure sheet will bear hid­
den marks."