repeated.
Mrs. Yablonski hesitated. "Yes."
"Excuse me, ma'am, but would they have anything to do with a ship...in the Philadelphia Navy Yard?" He heard a sharp intake of breath and knew he had hit the jackpot. "Is he seeing a psychiatrist about this, Mrs. Yablonski?"
"Yes..."
"A Navy psychiatrist?"
"Doctor McCarthy, yes".
Hammond felt something curl up in his stomach and flutter around. "How often?"
"Whenever he has to. Mr. Hammond, why are we discussing this? I don't see how my husband's records have anything to do with his..." She broke off.
"Mrs. Yablonski, I think your husband could be of help to me in an investigation. And I would like to come up to Cotuit tonight to see him. It's very important."
There was another pause and Hammond sensed fear. "Is something wrong?" she asked.
"No, ma'am. Nothing at all. I don't want to upset anyone. I just need to talk to him about something. Would it be all right if I came this evening?"
"I suppose so."
"Thank you, Mrs. Yablonski." He hung up quickly so she wouldn't have time to reconsider. He could hardly contain his excitement as he placed, a call to the NIS Data Center at the Hoffman Building in Alexandria. He got hold of a girl in the personnel division and asked her to track down the names and locations of every Navy psychiatrist named McCarthy and to send him a list as fast as possible.
His second line rang. It was Lieutenant Armbruster, almost violent about 9805CGN-166.
"You mean you can't crack it?" Hammond asked, trying to sound surprised.
"Crack it? Sir, I can't even find it! There's nothing remotely resembling the motherfu—" Armbruster restrained himself. "No source, no originating authority. As far as the Navy's concerned, that code doesn't exist. I'llkeep trying, but I don't know where it will get me?"
One more strange piece of non-information, Hammond thought. He thanked the unhappy lieutenant, made a quick call to the MATS facility at Washington National Airport and ordered them to ready an F4 jet.
Then he called Security. Things were moving along: the building was being de-loused with negative results, and a lot of negative uproar from brass who didn't want their offices turned upside down. So far, Hammond's was the only office to turn up bugged.
He decided it wartime to lock his desk and go home. Halfway there, he realized he had heard nothing further from Jan Fletcher. It was too late to call the Tri-State office; he would have to get in touch with her tomorrow. He had just enough time for an early dinner before heading to the airport for the flight to Cape Cod. He was conscious of a growling in his stomach. He had wolfed down the sandwiches and they were churning unpleasantly down there.
As he unlocked the door, he was debating what to do first, eat or shower. He never made the decision.
His hand froze reaching for the light switch. A faint scent filled the room, an all-too-familiar fragrance. He stared into the dark.
"Jan?" he called.
She rose from the couch and turned on a side lamp. She smiled wanly, her pale, tear-streaked face illuminated by the soft glow.
"I couldn't face a hotel room," she said quietly.
"How'd you get in?"
She held up a key. "I still had this."
5
Hammond closed the door and gave in to a surge of anger. How could she intrude on his privacy like that? What if there had been another woman living here? He was tempted to let her have it, tell her how far she had overstepped the bounds. But she took another step forward into the light and he saw the black circles under her eyes. She looked tired, frightened, as if all the stuffing had been knocked out She was shapeless in the beige wool suit Even the expensive pearls around her throat had no luster. She was anything but appealing.
Despite himself, Hammond softened. "Little girl lost," he said. She took that as a cue and stumbled into his arms, nestling her forehead in his shoulder and releasing her weight
There was nothing he could do but
Mrs. Yablonski hesitated. "Yes."
"Excuse me, ma'am, but would they have anything to do with a ship...in the Philadelphia Navy Yard?" He heard a sharp intake of breath and knew he had hit the jackpot. "Is he seeing a psychiatrist about this, Mrs. Yablonski?"
"Yes..."
"A Navy psychiatrist?"
"Doctor McCarthy, yes".
Hammond felt something curl up in his stomach and flutter around. "How often?"
"Whenever he has to. Mr. Hammond, why are we discussing this? I don't see how my husband's records have anything to do with his..." She broke off.
"Mrs. Yablonski, I think your husband could be of help to me in an investigation. And I would like to come up to Cotuit tonight to see him. It's very important."
There was another pause and Hammond sensed fear. "Is something wrong?" she asked.
"No, ma'am. Nothing at all. I don't want to upset anyone. I just need to talk to him about something. Would it be all right if I came this evening?"
"I suppose so."
"Thank you, Mrs. Yablonski." He hung up quickly so she wouldn't have time to reconsider. He could hardly contain his excitement as he placed, a call to the NIS Data Center at the Hoffman Building in Alexandria. He got hold of a girl in the personnel division and asked her to track down the names and locations of every Navy psychiatrist named McCarthy and to send him a list as fast as possible.
His second line rang. It was Lieutenant Armbruster, almost violent about 9805CGN-166.
"You mean you can't crack it?" Hammond asked, trying to sound surprised.
"Crack it? Sir, I can't even find it! There's nothing remotely resembling the motherfu—" Armbruster restrained himself. "No source, no originating authority. As far as the Navy's concerned, that code doesn't exist. I'llkeep trying, but I don't know where it will get me?"
One more strange piece of non-information, Hammond thought. He thanked the unhappy lieutenant, made a quick call to the MATS facility at Washington National Airport and ordered them to ready an F4 jet.
Then he called Security. Things were moving along: the building was being de-loused with negative results, and a lot of negative uproar from brass who didn't want their offices turned upside down. So far, Hammond's was the only office to turn up bugged.
He decided it wartime to lock his desk and go home. Halfway there, he realized he had heard nothing further from Jan Fletcher. It was too late to call the Tri-State office; he would have to get in touch with her tomorrow. He had just enough time for an early dinner before heading to the airport for the flight to Cape Cod. He was conscious of a growling in his stomach. He had wolfed down the sandwiches and they were churning unpleasantly down there.
As he unlocked the door, he was debating what to do first, eat or shower. He never made the decision.
His hand froze reaching for the light switch. A faint scent filled the room, an all-too-familiar fragrance. He stared into the dark.
"Jan?" he called.
She rose from the couch and turned on a side lamp. She smiled wanly, her pale, tear-streaked face illuminated by the soft glow.
"I couldn't face a hotel room," she said quietly.
"How'd you get in?"
She held up a key. "I still had this."
5
Hammond closed the door and gave in to a surge of anger. How could she intrude on his privacy like that? What if there had been another woman living here? He was tempted to let her have it, tell her how far she had overstepped the bounds. But she took another step forward into the light and he saw the black circles under her eyes. She looked tired, frightened, as if all the stuffing had been knocked out She was shapeless in the beige wool suit Even the expensive pearls around her throat had no luster. She was anything but appealing.
Despite himself, Hammond softened. "Little girl lost," he said. She took that as a cue and stumbled into his arms, nestling her forehead in his shoulder and releasing her weight
There was nothing he could do but
Similar Books
