The Spy

by Garbo Norman

  But who knew what was true these days about Thomas Worthington Ludlow? Though their lives had once briefly touched, they had since been moving at different levels of widely separated worlds. While Burke listened to the words of popular songs, Ludlow marched to the drumbeat of history. He dined with prime ministers and presidents, danced with their wives, and appeared with depressing frequency on the cover of Time Magazine. Once inadvertantly picking up one such copy on a plane, Burke had stared at the increasingly charismatic face and thought, I’ll be damned if the sonofabitch isn’t turning into one of our national treasures. And indeed, his list of credits had grown steadily more impressive. He had during the past few years led senior diplomatic missions to four important foreign capitals, negotiated settlements for two potentially crippling national strikes, arranged emergency economic assistance for several crumbling democratic bastions in South America, and served as Special Security Advisor to the President during a period of critical Far Eastern confrontation. Currently it was rumored the President would appoint him Secretary of State, as soon as his present Secretary could be gracefully gotten out of the way. If so, Burke thought, Ludlow would probably have a contract out on the Secretary in a matter of weeks.

  Or was he still being unfair? The man did, after all, have a long career of nationally recognized achievement behind him. How long did he deserve to be vilified for an eighteen-year-old transgression?

  For as long as he lived, thought Burke.

  Then having thought this, something in the deep of that faraway hilltop wood, something once sweet and as filled with hope as a young girl’s smile, was finally able to travel out of the memory of those longtime dead and straight into him. And sitting here in this car, eighteen years and a continent away from where they lay buried, his heart welcomed it.

  Chapter 17

  The rain was unnecessary. On this of all nights, Burke thought, he could very easily have done without the rain. Wind-driven, it came down in sheets, so that even with the high-speed wipers going, the windshield was never really clear. Peering through the torrent at the road ahead, Burke experienced the sensation of being in a curious underwater world. Occasional lights shimmered and there was the swift movement of other cars, but it was all very silent and strange.

  Although he had taken this same drive two nights before as a trial run, it had not been raining then. This made a difference. Another difference, of course, was the tension. Tonight was no rehearsal. It was for real. And regardless of careful planning and favorable odds, no operation of this sort was ever entirely free of threat. He had not mentioned any of this to David on the phone. He had simply said, “I have it all worked out. I’m getting you clear of them the night after next.”

  “Yes?” David’s voice started off tentative, frightened, but quickly Improved. “Hey, that’s great.”

  “I guess you want to take your girl with you.”

  “What?”

  “Your girl,” Burke said. “From what you’ve told me, she’s important to you.”

  There was a pause on the line. “Can’t…” David’s voice was hesitant again. “Can’t she meet me later?”

  “No. They’ll be watching her. You either take her now, or not at all.”

  “You mean you can actually get both of us “away?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I guess Dolores comes along.”

  “All right,” said Burke. “Pack a couple of bags and take enough cash out of the bank to keep you going for at least six months. Do you know where you want to go?”

  “I was thinking of the San Francisco area.”

  “Do you or Dolores know anyone there?”

  “No.”

  “Good. Now listen carefully. You’ll be driving. Not your car. You’ll start out in your car, but then you’ll dump it and use one that I’ll be giving you. I’ll also give you a new driver’s license and ownership papers to go with it. You’re going to have a whole new identity. No one is to know about this. Not even your parents. No one. Understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “You can tell your parents you’re off traveling. But only when you’re well on your way. And don’t call them after that because their phone will be tapped. And don’t write them because the postmark will give you away.”

  “Okay.”

  “Will they worry about you?’* “Hell, no. They’ll just be relieved at not having to look at my face.”

  Burke was silent for a moment. “It’s not a bad face, David. When I tailed you on Fifth Avenue the other day, I saw you with your new beard. I thought you looked fine. Very macho.”

  “It’s good camouflage.”

  The wire hummed against the traffic noises.

  Burke said, “You’re sure this is what you want? You’re absolutely certain you want to get out of here and away?”

  “Yes.”

  “You don’t sound very happy about it”

  “I’m scared, for Christ’s sake!”

  “There’s no need to be.”

  “How the devil are you going to get two of us away in a car with them watching?”

  “Don’t worry about it,” said Burke. “All you have to do is what I tell you. Now listen.”

  David listened and Burke gave him directions for getting to what Burke described as a country road that ran through an upper-Westchester woodland. David was to allow about an hour and fifteen minutes for the drive and arrive at the rendezvous point at exactly 9:00 P.M.

  “That’s all?” David asked when Burke had finished.

  “That’s about it. I’ll be there when you arrive. It’ll be black-no lights or houses or anything around, but I’ll wave a small flashlight. When you see it, stop your car and cut off your headlights. Then flick the lights on for a second, only a second, and turn .them off again. You got that?”

  “Got it.”

  “One more thing. Keep these instructions to yourself. Not even Dolores is to know them. Just take her along with you. I know she’s terrific and you’ve already trusted her with your life, but my life is involved in this too and I like to make my own judgments about that. No offense to Dolores.”

  “Sure.”

  “See you at nine o’clock.”

  “I sure appreciate this.”

  Burke smiled into the mouthpiece. “It’s my pleasure.”

  Some pleasure, thought Burke, driving through the rain forty-eight hours later. Still, if everything went well, it would all be over in an hour. God, he hoped there was no foul-up. The kid had been through enough. He deserved a break. They all did. In his mind his four fellow plastics always ran together like quadruplets. He seemed incapable of thinking of one without the others. Even now. At last accounting there was nothing new with Pamela and Hank. She was still out of a job and blacklisted; he was still agonizing over the killing. With that hanging over them, they didn’t need any new catastrophes. But evidently Lilly did. “Hey, wait till you hear this!” she had almost shouted into the phone less than twenty-four hours before, and Burke braced himself.

  “I think I’m afraid,” he said weakly.

  “Don’t be a wise guy. When you hear this, you’ll be crazy for me.”

  “I’m crazy for you now.”

  “Are you ready?”

  “Ready,” he sighed “Frank wants to help. He thinks he knows who’s after you and why. He’s disgusted with what’s happening and wants me to make arrangements for him to meet you and …”

  “Lilly!” It cut her off in midsentence.

  “What?”

  “Are you saying he knows you’ve been in touch with me?”

  “Hey, come on. The guy’s nuts about me. He’s been living at my place ever since those two apes went to work on me. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for me. For some reason you refuse to understand that. You’re so screwed up and suspicious from being a goddamned spy so long, you’ve forgotten how people can feel about each other. Of course I told him I can reach. you. I told him weeks ago. We’re in love!”

  Burke took
a moment to calm himself. I must remember her motives, he thought She’s doing this for me. I must be careful not to hurt her. “Did you also tell him how you get in touch with me?”

  “I fust said we had this complicated system of phone calls set up.”

  “Did he ask about numbers or where you called or anything like that?”

  “No.”

  “He’s not with you now, is he?”

  “No!. Christ, you infuriate me. I don’t know why I even want to help you. What an ungrateful bastard.”

  “Not ungrateful, Lilly … just skeptical.”

  “What dirty people you must have known.”

  “I’m afraid so,” he said and clanged some coins into the box.

  She passed a moment in hurt silence. “Well, do you want to hear the rest, or don’t you?”

  “Of course I want to hear. But you’re going to have to allow me my little doubts without taking them personally and sulking.”

  “Up yours.”

  “I love you, too,” he said gently. “Now get on with it and tell me what suddenly made your Frank so disgusted with the Service that he’s ready to betray it, his oath, and his country to help me.”

  “It’s not sudden. He’s been disgusted with some of the things he’s had to do for a long time. He has these awful nightmares. Sometimes he wakes up in a cold sweat, screaming. If you saw and heard him as I have, you wouldn’t be so skeptical.”

  Burke fingered the receiver and said nothing.

  “But what happened Saturday night really set him off,” she went on. “We were driving out to Amagansett after the show, when Waldo and Kevin — those same two apes — stopped Frank’s car at gunpoint and tried to kidnap me. Frank refused to let them. Then they had this godawful fight and Frank shot them both. I mean he killed them.” She paused. “Or maybe you think that was a performance, too.”

  “Well. . ,” he said. “You’ve really had a time of it.”

  “I’ve had better nights. But does that convince you of how Frank feels about me.”

  “I’ve never doubted that. Just as I’m sure you care for him. But that still didn’t stop you from doing everything possible to use him to help me.”

  “My God, he killed two of his own people to keep them from hurting me. Does that sound as if he was trying to use me?”

  He needed a little time on that one. “Well, Lilly, do you really know for sure that he killed them?”

  “Of course I know,” she shouted across the wire. “I was there. I saw.”

  “Okay, let’s go into that,” Burke said carefully. “Exactly what did you see?”

  “I saw him shoot them.”

  “You saw the actual shooting?”

  “I told you I did.”

  “Where did it happen?”

  “On a small road a few miles from Montauk Highway. They made us turn off there.”

  “Then it was dark where it happened?”

  “Yes, but there was a moon and I could see them lying there, all bloody.”

  “Where were they hit, Lilly?” Burke’s voice was very soft on the wire. “Where were they all bloody? What parts of them?”

  “Their faces. They were lying on their backs and I saw their faces. It was awful.”

  “It was dark. How much could you see?”

  “Enough. Too much.”

  “Did you see any specific physical damage, any holes in their faces, any features shot away?”

  She did not answer.

  “I’m sorry to have to do this, Lilly. I know how it must be for you. But it’s important.”

  “Their faces were just all dark and bloody,” she managed. “I couldn’t see anything else.”

  “Did you perhaps accidentally touch the blood? Did you get any of it on your hands or clothing?”

  “No.”

  “Okay, what happened then?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “What did Frank do next? Did he bury the bodies?”

  “No.”

  “You mean he left them lying there?”

  “He dragged them behind some bushes.”

  “What about their car? They did have a car, didn’t they?”

  “Frank drove that into the woods and left it behind some trees.”

  “And that was it?” said Burke. “You and Frank just drove away?”

  “Yes.”

  “Have you seen anything in the papers about bodies being discovered on Long Island?”

  “No. But Frank said the police have orders to keep these things quiet when they happen. But I guess you know that.”

  “Yes. That’s true.”

  “He also said you’d probably be blamed for the killing anyway.” l “That’s also true,” Burke said flatly. “God knows how many killings have been hung on me so far.”

  Neither of them spoke for a moment. Then Burke said. “What did you say those two agents’ names were?”

  “Waldo and Kevin. Waldo was black. Does that mean anything’”

  “Sure. It means the Service is an Equal Opportunity Employer. Do you know their last names?”

  “No.” She was silent. “You don’t believe Frank really killed them, do you?”

  “Would you hate me if I said I didn’t?”

  “No. I’d just pity you for being so wrong and of so little faith.”

  “I’ve been wrong before. But please, just give me a little time to check this out.”

  “I’ll give you a little time to kiss my ass.”

  “Promises, promises,” he said.

  The rain eased as Burke turned off the Taconic Parkway onto Route 100, and the visibility was better. He slowed, watching for his first landmark. Five minutes later he saw it, a burned-out diner on the left side of the road. Everything was black. He was in a heavily wooded area without a house in sight. Checking the rearview mirror, he saw a single pair of headlights far behind him. The lights kept pace for about a mile, then disappeared onto a cross road. Burke spotted his second landmark off to the right, the foundation of a house someone had once started, then abandoned. He lowered his window for a clearer view and took a gust of rain in the face. Braking carefully, he suddenly saw the opening in the trees on the left side of the road and steered into it. The trail was unpaved and just wide enough for a single car to get through. A wall of trees crowded close on both sides. If a car came from the opposite direction, there would be no way to pass. Burke bumped along the trail for several miles, drove around a sudden, sharp bend, and parked just off the road in a small opening between two trees.

  Moving quickly, he took a bag of demolition equipment out of the trunk and carried it back along the trail for about twenty-five yards. Then he packed his charge at the base of a tall swamp maple he had chosen for this purpose the night before, attached the wires to an exploder, and returned to the car. Glancing at his watch, he saw that it was 8:42. If David was on time, he had eighteen minutes to wait.

  At exactly 9:01, Burke saw headlights flickering through the trees and went out to meet them. He turned on his flashlight, waved it, and saw the headlights stop. Then the headlights disappeared, came on briefly, and went off once more.

  Burke walked towards the car through the rain. “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah,” David said. “There were some lights behind us on Route 100, but they disappeared when we turned off.” His voice was high with tension. “This … this is Dolores.”

  “Hello, Dolores.” In the flashlight’s beam, Burke saw wide, dark eyes in a soft, incredibly young face. “All right, let’s move quickly,” he told David. “Take the keys out of the ignition, bring your bags, and follow me.”

  “You mean I just leave the car right here, in the road?”

  “That’s what I mean.”

  Burke led them the short distance to his car. “Wait inside,” he said. “I’ll be with you in a minute.”

  This time Burke ran as he went back. He had already seen the following headlights through the trees. They were closer than he had expected. Reaching
the exploder, he swiftly checked his connections. Then he lay flat behind a rock and pushed the plunger. There was a cracking roar and Burke felt the blast from the explosion roll over him. His face pressed against wet leaves and dirt; he breathed the smell of the explosive as it rained pieces of wood. When he looked up, the big maple lay across the road. He was pleased. He had not tried something like that in ten years. That’s right, he thought. Just lie here congratulating yourself and in two minutes you’ll be plucking bullets out of your ass. But the headlights were still a quarter of a mile away.

  Burke trotted back to the car. He slid into the driver’s seat, started the motor, turned on the lights, and swung forward onto the road.

  “Do you think those lights back there are them?” David said.

  In the glow of the dashboard Burke’s face was dripping but relaxed. “I know it’s them. But that maple should hold them for awhile.”

  “You’re a very smart man,” said Dolores.

  Burke glanced at her as he drove. “And you’re a very pretty girl. David’s lucky to have you with him. But you look twelve years old.”

  “Sure. And I also remind you of your kid sister.”

  Burke laughed. “Is that what men always tell you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I have no kid sister.’ But if I did, I’d be happy to have her look like you.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I’m sorry you got locked up because of me. Was it rough?”

  “Nah. I’m used to it. I used to get picked up for hustling all the time. It don’t bother me none.”

  Amazing, thought Burke. And with that face. “Where are you from?”

  “Paraguay. But I came here when I was five, so I guess that don’t count much anymore.”

  “Your family still there?”

  “She has no family,” David answered for her. “Just an old grandfather she sends money to. He’s too weak to cut cane anymore and he’d starve, except for her. He sends her all these letters that a priest writes for him because he never learned to write. You should see them. They’re beautiful. She keeps them in a cigar box and reads them to me. An illiterate old Paraguayan cane-cutter, and I swear they sing.”