Hamilton, Donald - Matt Helm 14 by The Intriguers (v1.1) Page A

tank.
                "Well?" Martha said at
last.
                "What do you know about
something called the Federal Information Center ?"
                "Just what everybody
knows," she said. "FINC is the brainchild of a red-faced,
white-haired, smoothie political type named Leonard, who's mounted a real slick
takeover operation with powerful political support."
                "What did you call it?"
                She laughed. "Officially, it's
abbreviated FTC, but everybody calls it FINC. What else would you call a
national collection of snoops and spooks?" After a moment, she glanced at
me.
                "Did you talk to . . . him?
What did he say?"
                I reported my conversation with Mac,
practically verbatim, and said, "Apparently, we are now the Bureau of
Public Safety, operating under said FINC."
                "Well, we've got lots of
company, Mr. Helm. The CIA's latest overseas booboo and J.
                Edgar's recent death made it
relatively easy for Herbert Leonard. Obviously, it was time for a change, or
Congress thought it was, and he's it. The whole ball of wax. All the nation's
intelligence agencies wrapped up in one glorious unified package. You must have
read about it."
                I said, "Hell, I don't read the
papers when I'm on leave. Particularly when I'm on leave in Mexico . I don't listen to the radio, either."
                "No, all you do is make eyes at
skinny blondes." Martha spoke without altering her voice or turning her
head. "Tell me, was she really any good in bed? She was tall enough even
for you, but it didn't seem to me there was enough of her, crosswise, to give a
man any real satisfaction."
                I said, "Hush your dirty mouth,
Borden. What do you know about an agent of ours with the code name Carl?"
                Martha hesitated. "Well,"
she said after a moment, "his real name is Anders Janssen. He's on the
list. There are ten names, eleven including you. He is number six, if that
matters, but you were supposed to find him in New Orleans , where he'd been sent to hide out until the
right time came, and the right man, meaning you."
                I said, "Only now he seems to
have resigned and headed for Oklahoma on a private mission of his own. What
happened recently in Fort Adams , Oklahoma , Borden?"
                "You must have heard-"
                "Why make me say it again? I
haven't read a paper or listened to a radio for three weeks on purpose. Tell
me."
                "Well," she said,
"well, it was another of those riots, at a small educational institution
called Fort Adams State University . The police and deputies opened fire, and
three students were killed."
                "I see," I said slowly.
                "Why did you want to
know?" Martha asked curiously. "Has it got something to do with
Carl?"
                "It's got a lot to do with
Carl. One of the kids who got shot was his and he's running amok.
                My current orders are to do
something about it, immediately if not instantly." I frowned at the
four-lane highway sliding towards me in the bright Arizona sunshine. "However, I think since
we're so close to the ranch, we'd better go have a talk with Lorna first."
     

          Chapter VII
     
                The ranch is supposed to be
absolutely safe, a place where even the most unpopular agent, sought by
platoons of professional rub-out men of assorted hostile nationalities, can
relax and rest, secure in the knowledge that nobody can reach him. This means,
of course, that you don't just drive up to the gate and blow your horn when you
want in.
                I stopped in Tucson to make the necessary phone call. I got the
conditional all-clear, meaning that I could proceed along a specified route out
of town, not