she didn't look much like the well-groomed lady
agent with whom I'd expected to make contact. She looked more like a great
white huntress after a tough safari; the general impression was one of soiled
khakis, sunburned skin, and stringy hair.
"How long have you been hiding
out back there?" I asked.
"Two days. I didn't really
expect you for another day or two; and I wouldn't have taken off so early with
just a two-quart canteen and a couple of candy bars if I hadn't been warned. .
. . You remember Jake Lister?"
"The orthopedic man at the
ranch?" The rig was picking up speed now on a solid gravel road. "Sure,
I remember Dr. Jake. Always thinking up fancy new exercises to inflict on his
victims-excuse me, patients. Aside from that, he's a good man. What about
him?"
"Well," said Lorna dryly,
"apparently Dr. Stern has been happily playing director in his usual
trusting and democratic fashion, calling all the help by their first names and
insisting they call him Tom. However, Dr. Jake's had a few reservations about
some of the people hired lately, in spite of their glowing recommendations and
iron-clad security clearances. Maybe being black tends to shake a man's
innocent faith in all humanity. Anyway, Dr. Jake got word somehow that things
were about to blow, and he tipped me off, since I was the only senior agent in
residence at the moment. I just had time to change into something durable and
grab a few basic supplies and get away. The enemy was closing in with inside
help as I sneaked out. There was some shooting. I waited to see if Lister or
Stern or somebody would make it clear, but nobody came."
There was a little silence. At last
I asked, "What about this conference you mentioned?"
"That happened the next night,
last night. Nobody seemed to be chasing me, or even to know I was missing, so I
took a chance-I didn't figure you'd be that early, and if you were you could
wait-and circled back after lying in the shade of a rock all day with a
friendly Gila monster for company. I took up a position on the mesa south of
the main ranch buildings and watched. Everything seemed quiet, but the guards
weren't our guards any longer. Right after dark, a couple of cars came in. They
got the VIP treatment from the help, so I figured it was worth risking a closer
look. I made my way down there and crawled to where I could watch the long
porch outside the living room, figuring somebody interesting might step out for
a breath of fresh, unairconditioned oxygen-"
I said, "Around these parts,
that porch is known as a portal, ma'am. Accent on the last syllable."
"All right, portal. Anyway,
pretty soon, out came guess who?"
There was only one logical answer,
considering everything. I said, "A smart political operator who considers
himself an intelligence expert, named Herbert Leonard."
"How did you know?" The
woman in back sounded disappointed.
"I called Washington today," I said. "I've been kind
of out of touch down in Mexico . I was told Herbie'd taken over practically the whole intelligence community in some kind of a fancy
power play backed by strong political influence, exact source unknown."
"Yes, of course. Well, Leonard
must have learned of the existence of the ranch somehow, and decided that a
secret, well-protected installation like that was just the headquarters he
needed for his political intrigues. But 1 bet you can't guess the name of the
person to whom he was talking."
"Since you put it like that, I
won't even try."
"If I said the lady was an
elected representative of the US people, with strange political notions and
strong presidential ambitions, would that help?"
I whistled softly.