Eric?"
"Lousy, sir," I said.
"My girl Friday turned out to be a missionary at heart, and somebody tried
to shoot me."
"Shoot you? What
happened?"
"He missed. Then,
unfortunately, he kind of drowned," I said. "They fished him out of San Carlos Bay this morning. His death was strictly
accidental, of course."
"Of course. Do you have any
clue as to his motive?"
"No, sir. We never really got
on speaking terms."
"I see. Well, there are a
number of people employed by other nations who have reason not to be
particularly fond of you."
"Yes, sir."
"I don't want to seem to
dismiss an attempt on your life lightly, but there are reasons why I'm rather
disinterested in would-be murderers at the moment-as long as they are safely
dead, of course. We have trouble inside our own ranks. As you'll gather, it
couldn't have come at a worse time."
"No, sir. What's the
problem?"
"To put it bluntly, one of our
people has gone a bit berserk."
"It's an occupational hazard,
sir."
"Particularly among agents with
families, it seems. Whenever anything happens to their spouses or offspring,
their immediate reaction is to employ their training amid experience for
purposes of vengeance. It's always very awkward, but particularly right now."
"Yes, sir. Who's the current
berserker? Do I know him?"
"You did a job with him in Cuba . Agent Carl."
"A big blond guy. Sure, I
remember him. What's up with Carl?"
"Let's just say that he
received some rather bad news concerning a member of his family.
He called immediately afterwards to
say that he was resigning to take care of some private business. He said not to
send anyone to try to stop him, because anybody who was sent just wouldn't come
back." I couldn't help a wry laugh. Mac heard me, two-thirds of a
continent away. He spoke in a severe tone of voice: "You seem to find that
amusing, Erie . Why?"
"Only because I've used the
same line myself upon occasion, as you may remember, sir." I made a face
at the phone. "But you are sending somebody after Carl, in spite of his
warning."
"Yes. You."
"Thanks a whole lot, sir."
"He is presently in Fort Adams , Oklahoma , or somewhere nearby. We don't have his exact address. You'll contact
him and take whatever steps necessary to prevent him from involving us in a
scandal that could destroy us. I repeat, whatever steps are necessary. Do I
make myself clear?"
"Yes, sir," I said.
"You always do, sir. But if Carl has resigned, officially, how do his
actions reflect on us?"
"Don't be naïve, Eric. Mr.
Leonard is just waiting for an excuse to crack down on us. Do you think he'll
let a little thing like a resignation stand in his way?"
"It's a point," I
admitted. "Well, you'd better give me Carl's current description. These
days of long hair and beards I might not recognize him. That Cuba assignment was a long time ago.
Oh, and if it isn't too
confidential, you might tell me precisely what the news was that sent him off
his trolley. . .
The girl was back in the station
wagon when I returned to it. I signed the charge slip for the gasoline and got
behind the wheel. We didn't speak until we were out of Nogales , heading up the four-lane freeway towards Tucson . It's a funny thing, much as I enjoy Mexico , and much as I detest that interminable
border hassle, I always feel a sense of relief and relaxation when I'm back in
the US with American gas in the
"Lousy, sir," I said.
"My girl Friday turned out to be a missionary at heart, and somebody tried
to shoot me."
"Shoot you? What
happened?"
"He missed. Then,
unfortunately, he kind of drowned," I said. "They fished him out of San Carlos Bay this morning. His death was strictly
accidental, of course."
"Of course. Do you have any
clue as to his motive?"
"No, sir. We never really got
on speaking terms."
"I see. Well, there are a
number of people employed by other nations who have reason not to be
particularly fond of you."
"Yes, sir."
"I don't want to seem to
dismiss an attempt on your life lightly, but there are reasons why I'm rather
disinterested in would-be murderers at the moment-as long as they are safely
dead, of course. We have trouble inside our own ranks. As you'll gather, it
couldn't have come at a worse time."
"No, sir. What's the
problem?"
"To put it bluntly, one of our
people has gone a bit berserk."
"It's an occupational hazard,
sir."
"Particularly among agents with
families, it seems. Whenever anything happens to their spouses or offspring,
their immediate reaction is to employ their training amid experience for
purposes of vengeance. It's always very awkward, but particularly right now."
"Yes, sir. Who's the current
berserker? Do I know him?"
"You did a job with him in Cuba . Agent Carl."
"A big blond guy. Sure, I
remember him. What's up with Carl?"
"Let's just say that he
received some rather bad news concerning a member of his family.
He called immediately afterwards to
say that he was resigning to take care of some private business. He said not to
send anyone to try to stop him, because anybody who was sent just wouldn't come
back." I couldn't help a wry laugh. Mac heard me, two-thirds of a
continent away. He spoke in a severe tone of voice: "You seem to find that
amusing, Erie . Why?"
"Only because I've used the
same line myself upon occasion, as you may remember, sir." I made a face
at the phone. "But you are sending somebody after Carl, in spite of his
warning."
"Yes. You."
"Thanks a whole lot, sir."
"He is presently in Fort Adams , Oklahoma , or somewhere nearby. We don't have his exact address. You'll contact
him and take whatever steps necessary to prevent him from involving us in a
scandal that could destroy us. I repeat, whatever steps are necessary. Do I
make myself clear?"
"Yes, sir," I said.
"You always do, sir. But if Carl has resigned, officially, how do his
actions reflect on us?"
"Don't be naïve, Eric. Mr.
Leonard is just waiting for an excuse to crack down on us. Do you think he'll
let a little thing like a resignation stand in his way?"
"It's a point," I
admitted. "Well, you'd better give me Carl's current description. These
days of long hair and beards I might not recognize him. That Cuba assignment was a long time ago.
Oh, and if it isn't too
confidential, you might tell me precisely what the news was that sent him off
his trolley. . .
The girl was back in the station
wagon when I returned to it. I signed the charge slip for the gasoline and got
behind the wheel. We didn't speak until we were out of Nogales , heading up the four-lane freeway towards Tucson . It's a funny thing, much as I enjoy Mexico , and much as I detest that interminable
border hassle, I always feel a sense of relief and relaxation when I'm back in
the US with American gas in the
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