a pocket and pulled out a wax paper envelope, peeked inside. BC saw something that looked like a sheet of perforated paper. Alpert tore off a stamp and held it up between two pinched fingers.
“Now then—”
“Actually, I’d prefer to take it with me if I can.” BC looked around the messy room. “I’ve heard that setting plays a vital role, and I’d prefer something more familiar. Intimate.”
On the bed, the big toe at the end of one leg scratched the ankle of one of the others with a sandpapery sound.
Alpert frowned. “A guide is every bit as important as setting, and I’m leery of leaving you alone for your first experience. LSD is an extremely powerful drug.”
“So I’ve heard,” BC said drily.
Alpert deliberated with himself, then shrugged. He reached into a pocket and pulled out a somewhat battered card, slipped it into the envelope with the acid, and pressed it into BC’s hand. Once again, he refused to let go.
“These are my numbers. I want you to call me at any time—before, during, after.” He squeezed BC’s fingers. “Perhaps I can lure you to Millbrook for a more in-depth experience.”
“Millbrook?” BC felt his hand sweating inside Alpert’s furry paws. “Miss Hitchcock has a house there, doesn’t she?”
“Her brother, Billy. It’s quite a special place.”
“Well, if this is everything people say it is, no doubt I’ll want a second experience.”
“Oh, don’t take all of this at once! You’ll be jumping off rooftops thinking you can fly!”
It was another fifteen minutes before BC could get away from Alpert, and even then it took a gaggle of floppy- haired boys and girls to drag the big man away. BC tucked the envelope inside his jacket and headed for the hall. But at the top of the stairs he was stopped by a tall, sturdy-looking man in a bland gray suit. The man opened his jacket just enough to show BC the butt of his pistol.
“Whoa, man,” BC said. “Guns are so uncool.” He smiled, but the man didn’t get the joke.
“I hope you will come without a fuss, Agent Querrey.”
BC heard a trace of an accent. There was nothing particularly Russian about it, yet somehow BC knew the man was KGB. As casually as possible, he turned and looked toward the other end of the hallway. Another gray-suited man waited there. He had a softer face than his companion, with shoulders like ham hocks and a scowl curling his pudgy lips.
BC turned back to the first agent. His eyes traveled up and down the gray suit disdainfully.
“You could have at least dressed the part.”
Washington, DC
November 19, 1963
Melchior was sitting on a bench in Fort Washington Park when Song’s Cadillac pulled up, a newspaper flapping in his hands in the breeze coming off the Potomac. He looked up with a tired smile on his face as the whiplash form of Chul-moo opened the back door, then frowned when he saw Ivelitsch step from the car. The Russian scanned the surroundings, then pulled his hat lower on his head and reached back to hand Song out of the car with a familiar air Melchior didn’t like
“What is this, the prom? Jesus Christ, Song, why don’t you just pick him up at the Soviet Embassy next time?”
Song turned up the fur collar of her coat against the breeze. “Relax. We made sure we weren’t followed.”
“I’m kind of surprised to see
“You don’t sound happy about it,” Melchior replied. “
“I don’t know why you went in in the first place. The Company suspects you of murdering three agents, after all.”
“It was the only way to divert suspicion,” Melchior said.
“You must have an amazing amount of confidence in your ability to bullshit. Especially with someone like James Jesus Angleton.”
“It was just Everton,” Melchior said, glaring at the Russian’s smug, well-rested face. “Mother was out of town. I’ve never had the privilege of meeting him, which he’ll thank me for one day.” He held up his hand when Ivelitsch started to speak again. “Look, I don’t have the time or energy for chitchat. It’s been more than a week since Chandler escaped, and he’s bound to show up soon. I want to know where Naz is. Without her, we have no way of controlling him, and without him our ace in the hole is gone.”
Ivelitsch glanced at Song before speaking. “I have men watching Millbrook and the Hitchcock woman’s apartment in New York City. If he shows up, we’ll handle him. I’m beginning to think Orpheus is a distraction. We have bigger fish to fry.”
“I’ll have Keller give you a test flight when we get him back. Good luck to your men, by the way.”
“If he’s as powerful as you say, what’s to stop him from plucking the secret of Naz’s whereabouts from your mind? Isn’t it safer if I
“I have to agree with Pavel,” Song said, a little too quickly for Melchior’s taste. “The fewer people who know Naz’s location, the better. And she needs to be far enough away that if Orpheus does manage to ferret out her location, we’ll be able to move her before he can get there.”
Melchior looked between the two of them with suspicious, tired eyes. “How far,
“It would be difficult to get an unwilling girl on a plane to Moscow, at least in Washington. Perhaps from
