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

"You mean
the senatress , herself?"
                "I mean the lady senator from Wyoming , the first state to give women the
vote." The voice from the back seat was dry. "I mean the gray-haired,
motherly old bag who's been giving all women's rights movements a bad name,
after they helped elect her, by associating herself with various sinister
groups she apparently thinks will help her become the first lady president of
the United States. Senator Ellen Love, in her standard costume of dowdy print
dress and gold-rimmed glasses, and whether she's a naïve little old lady
victimized by a lot of sharp operators, or a pious fraud, doesn't really
matter. The final result is the same. I want you to see her for yourself,
holding hands with Herbert Leonard, so that if anything happens to me you won't
start wondering if maybe I wasn't having hallucinations in the heat."
                I didn't try to bring the car near
the vantage point I selected, from my memories of the terrain, as the most
suitable observation post. For one thing, no road ran close to the spot and I
didn't figure the big station wagon was up to any cross-country jeep antics.
For another, even if we could have made it, here at the front of the ranch
there were more guards, and probably more alert guards, than at the rear, and
one of them might hear the sound of the engine. I settled for a two-mile midnight hike.
                My two companions made no complaints
as we picked our way across the desert, climbing gradually. I just heard an
occasional stifled gasp as one of them encountered a cactus in the dark. I met
a few sharp thorns myself. Then we were on the ridge overlooking the broad,
shallow valley, rising and narrowing to the left. A dirt road ran up the valley
and entered the ranch through a gate below us.
                There was no guard house or sentry
box. Here, it was just an ordinary-looking, padlocked ranch gate in a ranch
fence that was just a little higher and sturdier than usual- the kind of fence
a rich sportsman might put up who'd stocked his place with exotic game-but if
you approached and tried to open it in the wrong manner, or if somebody had
passed the wrong word about you or neglected to pass the right one, you'd find
yourself subjected to an accurate crossfire from two neighboring elevations. At
least that was the way it had been before Leonard took over, and while he'd
undoubtedly changed the personnel, it seemed unlikely that he'd made much
change in the security procedures on such short notice.
                We lay there a while, watching the
vacant, light streak of road in the empty, dark wasteland below. At last Martha
Borden stirred and glanced my way.
                "It doesn't look as if they're
coming. Or maybe they've already gone."
                I realized this was the first thing
she'd said since we sneaked up to the fence together, a good many miles back.
Apparently the presence of another woman had an inhibiting effect on her.
                "We'll wait a little
longer," I said.
                "I don't want to seem
inquisitive." This was Lorna's voice from the other side of me. "I
don't want to pry, but just who is she?"
                I said, "I'm sorry. I've been
neglecting my social duties. Lorna, meet Nicki , and
vice versa. I'm Eric, in case you didn't know."
                "Even if I hadn't been told to
expect you, there aren't all that many agents six-and-a-third feet tall. But
what's she doing here, if I may ask?"
                "She's a messenger girl,"
I said. "She carries the word from Washington , and doles out pieces of it as the spirit
moves her."
                "How far do you trust
her?"
                "Almost as far as I trust
you," I told Lorna, "which isn't saying a great deal. But not quite
as far. A little less."
                I was aware of Martha giving me a
quick,