“You get into altercations on the
“Bumps into me! Marks, that wasn’t
“We’ve been keeping an eye on you, yes. We wouldn’t just turn you loose without protection. And it’s been more trouble than we can afford.”
“Protection!” Gideon said. He knew he kept repeating Marks, but he couldn’t help himself. Somehow, Marks had taken control, and every statement he made was so newly outrageous that it threw Gideon into fresh confusion. “If that’s the way you protect your people, no wonder the free world’s in trouble.”
“Is that right?” For the first time, Marks’s voice had an angry edge, “just who do you think got you out of that ditch in Sicily?”
“The man on the bridge? That was one of your men? Then you must know who those… goons were.”
“Forget it. I already told you more than I should have.”
“Marks, I have a right to know. I came awfully close to being killed.”
“We don’t operate on right-to-know. We operate on need-to-know, remember? And you don’t need to know.”
“Marks—”
“Oliver, there’s no point in continuing this. I’ll be as honest as I can.” He lit another cigarette from the stub of the old one and inhaled deeply. “We are terminating our relationship with you because it’s not doing any good. That’s all I’m at liberty to tell you.” He reached for a manila folder on the desk and opened it. “Now, I have a lot of important things to do.” Once again Gideon was being dismissed.
“At liberty, hell,” Gideon said. “You don’t know any more than I do about this, do you? I don’t know why I’m wasting my time talking to Delvaux’s errand boy.” He got up again.
As simple as it was, it worked. Marks was still Marks. Two red spots appeared on the sides of his throat. He slammed the folder closed. “The Russians needed something from Sigonella; they got it. They needed something from Rhein-Main; they got it. They got it without having to go to you.” As he spoke, smoke dribbled from his mouth as if his tongue were on fire. “They don’t need you. They’re obviously getting what they need some other way. So you’re not doing them—or us—any good. What’s more, you’re one hell of a lot of trouble. So thanks for all your help, and good-bye. You’re no longer involved.” He opened the folder again.
Gideon put his hands on the desk and leaned over Marks. “It’s not that simple. There’s something about being run off the road, and shot at, and garroted, and having a knife waved in your face that’s highly involving— engrossing, even. Whether NSD likes it or not, I’m involved, and I intend to stay involved.”
Marks looked up at Gideon, his hands flat on the folder. “It’s not
“What do you mean, ”again‘?“ It
“What?” said Marks with mock surprise. “You mean the learned professor didn’t have that figured out? Yes, of course it was us, and we intend to do it again. You can kiss romantic Torrejon off, Doctor. On Monday you’ll be off to Frankfurt.”
“Oh no,” said Gideon with more confidence than he felt. “No way. I’m a teacher; I don’t work for NSD. I agreed to go to Torrejon, and that’s where I’m going. I’ve put too many hours into preparing my lectures to have the schedule changed with one day’s notice.” This wasn’t strictly true, but it wouldn’t hurt.
Taking the cigarette from his mouth, Marks stifled a fake yawn. “We’ll see,” he said.
In his mind Gideon drew a comic-strip balloon with dotted lines. “Screw you,” he wrote in it. (Imaginary profanity didn’t count.) Aloud he said, “Well, thanks for your time.” As he was leaving, he smiled again at Frau Stetten, receiving in return an aloof and virginal nod.
“Puffed wheat,” said Dr. Rufus from behind him.
“Pardon?” Gideon said, turning in his chair and beginning to rise.
“No, stay where you are, my boy,” said Dr. Rufus, coming up to Gideon and pounding him on the shoulder. “I said that the object you are holding in your hand and studying so carefully is a kernel of puffed wheat.”
He had come looking for Dr. Rufus a few minutes earlier, straight from NSD headquarters. The chancellor’s secretary had said he was somewhere in the building and had shown Gideon into his office to wait. He had taken a thickly upholstered chair in a grouping by the window, and his attention had been caught at once by the large glass bowl on the coffee table nearby. He had thought it was full of lentils or pebbles until, sticking a finger in, he had found them hollow. He had just picked one up to smell it when Dr. Rufus came in.
With a sigh, the chancellor plumped his bearlike body down in the sofa opposite Gideon. “Ah, yes, puffed wheat, couldn’t live without it. Finest snack in the world. Munch ‘em all day long and never gain an ounce. Why, the whole bowl probably doesn’t contain ten ounces. Of course, you have to get the good kind, not the ones in the plastic bags; those are two-thirds sediment.”
He settled back and crossed one chubby thigh over the other. “Well, well, well, you’ve had quite a harrowing adventure, I hear. I hope you’re all right now?” His face sagged as he took his first good look at Gideon. “Oh my! You’ve really been hurt, haven’t you? I had no idea…”
Gideon smiled, something he could do with no pain at all now. “You should have seen me last week. I’m fine now, and they tell me it won’t be long before I- look myself, or at least before I’m predominantly flesh-colored again.”
“I’m certain of it. Still, I just had no idea…” Dr. Rufus slowly shook his head back and forth.
The commiseration was making Gideon uneasy. Until then he had been rather pleased with the improvement in
