The Hunt

with the expression dog robber?”

“No.”

“It’s a Navy expression. I was in the Navy for several years. For a time I was Admiral Harry Grogan’s dog robber. When the admiral wanted something, I got it for him. When he wanted something done, I did it. Anything, anytime. No matter what it was, I would say, ‘Yes sir,’ and take care of it. That’s a dog robber, Mr. Keegan. Every admiral has one Now I’m Donovan’s dog robber. Just so we’re straight, I know vaguely what you’re up to and my job is to help you in any sane and legitimate way I can. I emphasize sane and legitimate because I don’t like trouble. The mark of a good dog robber is to get results with an apparent minimum of effort and no trouble.”

“And I assume you’re a very good dog robber?”

Smith ignored the comment. “I know what you’re trying to do and you know what I do, that takes care of all the biographical niceties. Now shall we talk about this operation of yours?”

“Ah, so now it’s an operation.”

“Probably stretching the point a bit. There’s you and there’s me—part-time. Not much of an operation.”

“What’s in the briefcase?”

“Credentials, some phone numbers, a contact or two, my card with a day and night number on it. Naturally I prefer day.”

“Are you married?”

“I was. I was attached to the embassy in Shanghai when the Japs started their war. My wife was in the street market. She was killed by the first wave of bombers.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Thanks. The Chief—Donovan likes to be called Chief, by the way—is concerned because he feels this witch hunt of yours . .

“It’s not a witch hunt, Mr. Smith. I assure you, Siebenundzwanzig exists.”

“Uh huh. As I was saying, he’s afraid your motive is too personal. People who are too personally involved in these things sometimes act recklessly.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“If by some miracle you do turn this man up, you will give him to us, won’t you.” He was not asking a question, it was more like a statement of fact. He paused long enough to shell another peanut. “You realize how valuable this man could be to us, don’t you, Mr. Keegan?”

“Sure.”

“Sure what? Sure you’ll turn him over or sure you know how valuable he is?”

“Both.”

“You won’t do something rash like dropping him in the East River with cement boots on?”

“It’s not boots, Mr. Smith, the expression is a cement overcoat and I never did that kind of thing.”

“The Chief seems to think you know about eighty-seven exotic ways to dispose of people.”

“I said I didn’t do that kind of thing, I didn’t say I don’t know how to do them.”

“I feel reassured.”

“Wonderful. Does Donovan believe me?”

“Whether he believes you or not is immaterial. He does think you believe the story and that’s what counts. He’s taking a shot on you. And don’t forget, if this information gets to Hoover there will be a lot of hell to pay. And Donovan’ll be the first one to catch it.”

Keegan smiled his crooked smile and nodded. “I got the message, Mr. Smith.”

“If you have any questions after you go over the material in your trunk give me a call. I’ll have the briefcase picked up. I think that about covers everything. Anything else you need?”

Keegan liked Smith. There was a surly irreverence about him, a nasty edge coated with humor. He decided to test him.

“So you’re the best dog robber there is, huh?”

“I don’t like to brag, Mr. Keegan. Why do you ask?”

“There’s something I could use.”

“Oh?” Smith answered skeptically.

“I think transportation is going to be a big problem for me.

I hate to wait around for trains and buses, that sort of thing. So

I was wondering—do you think you might shake me up an airplane?”

Smith’s expression never changed. “An airplane,” he said in a flat voice.

“Yeah: with a pilot that knows what he’s doing.”

“You want an airplane and a pilot.”

“It would really be a big help.”