‘Put the call on the green box,’ Sloan ordered and went into his office. He closed the door and unlocked a drawer in his desk. It contained a phone with a device that scrambled transmission both ways and then unscrambled them on a one-to-one line. There were two small lights on top of the box. A green light assured Sloan that the line remained clear. If the other light, which was red, lit up, the call was immediately terminated.
Sloan answered the phone.
‘This is Moon Racer,’ he said.
‘This is Hound Dog, sir. We’re having problems.’
‘It’s all right, Hedritch, we’ve got a virgin line.’
‘Our boy is giving us fits, Colonel.’
‘Same old problem?’
‘Yes, sir. It’s okay as long as we keep him on the lake, security’s a breeze. But he’s determined to hit the night spots. I told him it was impossible and I won’t repeat what he told me.’
Sloan chuckled. ‘I can imagine, I brought the man out, remember. Those tropical types are all alike. Hot blood and all that.’
‘His hot blood is going to be all over the floor if he’s not careful. Do I have the authority to stop him?’
‘Negative. He’s a guest of the United States, not a prisoner. Our job is to protect him, tough as that may be.’
‘He wants to go to a disco called split Personality, to a costume party. We couldn’t secure the place if we had the whole Israeli Army helping us.’
‘When?’
‘Day after tomorrow.’
Sloan thought for a moment.
‘All right, we’ll just have to take our chances. Don’t let anybody know you’re coming. Get there about eleven o’clock, tell the manager who you are. Locate in a spot that’s inconspicuous. That’s the best you can do.’
‘It’s gonna be hairy, sir.’
‘It always is, Hedritch.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Sloan hung up. He took a long Havana cigar from his desk drawer, took it out of its protective tube and drew it back and forth under his nose several times, smelling its rich tobacco. Then he lit it and picked up the green phone again. He punched out a number.
‘Yes?’ a voice answered after the first ring.
‘This is Moon Racer. Is the man available?’
‘Yes, sir.’
A moment later a voice asked, ‘Moon Racer?’
‘Yes,’ Sloan replied.
‘Are you smoking, Moon Racer?’
‘Yes. Do you know what I’m smoking?’
‘La Fiera.’
‘Good. I’ve got the mark for you.’
‘Is it the troublesome one we have discussed?’
‘Yes. Campon will be at a place called the Split Personality in Atlanta, Georgia, eleven P.M. day after tomorrow.’
‘That would be Wednesday.’
‘Right. Is there a problem?’
‘No problem. Enjoy your smoke.’
‘I intend to.’
Sloan hung up, closed the drawer and locked it. Then he picked up his regular phone.
‘Get mc on the next flight to San Diego,’ he said.
WATER BABIES
Windy Porter sat at his customary table in the corner of Queen’s Pub watching a dozen Thais trying to launch a
When the big dragon kite finally caught the wind and spiraled up into the air, one of the
