glass ashtray, a picture in a solid frame. There was nothing.
He had to do something before they entered the room.
Could he try to take the gun away from Anthony? He might succeed, but it was risky. The gun could easily go off in the struggle, and no telling which way it might be pointing at the crucial moment They reached the door and Luke took out his key. A bead of perspiration ran down his face. If he went inside, he was dead.
He unlocked the door and pushed it open.
'Come in,' he said. He stood aside to let his guest enter first Anthony hesitated, then walked past Luke and through the doorway. Luke hooked his foot around Anthony's right ankle, and put both hands flat on Anthony's shoulder blades, and pushed hard. Anthony went flying. He crashed into a small Regency table, knocking over a large vase of daffodils. In desperation he grabbed at a brass floor lamp with a pink silk shade, but the lamp fell with him.
Luke pulled the door shut and ran for his life. He hurtled along the corridor. The elevator had gone. He burst through the Fire Exit door on to the staircase and ran down. On the next floor, he crashed into a maid carrying a stack of towels. 'I'm sorry!' he called as the maid screamed and towels flew everywhere.
A few seconds later, he reached the foot of the staircase. He found himself in a narrow corridor. To one side, up a short flight of steps, through a small archway, he could see the lobby.
Anthony knew, before he did it, that it was a mistake to enter the room first; but Luke left him no choice. Fortunately he was not seriously hurt After a stunned moment, he picked himself up. He turned, strode to the door, and opened it. Looking out, he saw Luke baring along the corridor. As he gave chase, Luke turned aside and disappeared, presumably into the stairwell.
Anthony followed, running as fast as he could, but he was afraid he might not be able to catch Luke, who was at least as fit as he. Would Curtis and Malone in the lobby have the sense to apprehend Luke?
On the next floor down, Anthony was momentarily delayed by a maid who was kneeling on the floor, picking up scattered towels. Anthony guessed Luke had crashed into her. He cursed, and slowed his pace to maneuver around her. As he did so, he heard the elevator arrive. His heart leaned: maybe he was in hick.
A dressed-up couple emerged, obviously tipsy from a celebration in the restaurant Anthony barged past them into the elevator and said: 'Ground floor, and quick about it'
The man slammed the doors and threw the lever.
Anthony stared impotently at the descending floor numbers as they lit up in slow succession. The elevator reached the ground floor. The door slid aside and he stepped out.
Luke emerged into the lobby next to the elevator doors. His heart sank. The two agents he had spotted earlier were now standing in front of the main entrance, blocking his way out A moment later, the elevator door opened beside him and Anthony stepped out He had to make a split-second decision: fight or flee.
He did not want to fight three men. They would almost certainly overpower him. Hotel security would join in. Anthony would show his CIA identification, and everyone would defer to him. Luke would end up in custody.
He turned and ran back along the corridor, into the depths of the hotel. Behind him, he heard the pounding footsteps of Anthony giving chase. There had to be a back entrance - supplies could not possibly be delivered through the main lobby.
He pushed through a curtain and found himself in a little courtyard decorated like a Mediterranean outdoor cafe. A few couples were swaying on a small dance floor. Barging between the tables, he made it to an exit door. A narrow corridor stretched away to his left He ran along it. He must be near the back of the hotel now, he figured, but he could see no way out He emerged into a kind of butler's pantry, where the finishing touches were applied to dishes cooked elsewhere. Half a dozen uniformed waiters were heating food in chafing dishes and arranging plates on trays. In the middle of the room was a staircase leading down. Luke pushed through the waiters and took the stairs, ignoring a voice that called: 'Excuse me, sir! You can't go down there!' As Anthony charged after him, the same voice said indignantly 'What is this, Union Station?'
In the basement was the main kitchen, a sweaty purgatory where dozens of chefs cooked for hundreds of people. Gas jets flared, steam billowed, saucepans bubbled. Waiters shouted at cooks, and cooks shouted at kitchen hands. They were too busy to pay attention to Luke as he dodged between the refrigerators and the ranges, die plate stacks and die barrels of vegetables.
At the back of the kitchen, he found a staircase going up. He guessed it led to the delivery entrance. If not, he would be cornered. He took die chance and raced up the stairs. At the top, he burst through a pair of doors into the cold night air.
He was in a dark yard. A dim lamp over the door showed him giant garbage bins and stacked wooden pallets that looked as if they had contained fruit. Fifty yards away to his right was. a high wire fence with a closed gate and, beyond that, a street which his sense of direction told him must be 15th.
He ran for the gate. He heard the door behind him bang open, and guessed that Anthony had come out And they were alone.
He reached the gate. It was closed and secured with a big steel padlock. If only a pedestrian would come strolling by, Anthony would be afraid to shoot. But there was none.
Heart pounding, Luke scrambled up the fence. As he reached the top, he heard the discreet cough of a silenced pistol. But he felt nothing. It was a hard shot, a moving target fifty yards away in the dark, but not impossible. He flung himself over the top. The pistol coughed again.. He staggered 'and fell to the ground. He heard a third muffled shot He sprang to his feet and ran, heading east The gun did not speak again.
At the corner, he looked back. Anthony was nowhere in sight He had escaped.
Anthony's legs felt weak. He put a hand against the cold wall to steady himself. The yard smelled of rotting vegetables. He felt as if he were breathing corruption.
It had been the hardest thing he had ever done. By comparison, killing Albin Moulier had been easy. Pointing his gun at the figure of Luke scrambling over a wire fence, he had almost been unable to pull the trigger.
This was the worst possible outcome. Luke was still alive - and, having been shot at, he was on full alert, determined to learn the truth.
The kitchen door burst open, and Malone and Curtis appeared. Anthony discreetly slid the gun back into his inside pocket Then, panting, he said: 'Over the fence - go after him.' He knew they would not catch Luke.
When they were out of sight, he started to look for the slugs.
.
10.30 P. M.
The design of the rocket is based on the V2 bomb used against London during the war. The engine even looks the same. The accelerometers, relays and gyros are all out of the V2. The pump for the propellants uses hydrogen peroxide passed over a cadmium catalyst, releasing energy that drives a turbine - and this, too, comes from the V2.
Harold Brodsky made a good dry martini, and Mrs. Riley's tuna bake was as tasty as promised. For dessert, Harold served cherry pie and ice cream. Billie felt guilty. He was trying so hard to please her, but her mind was on Luke and Anthony, their shared past and their puzzling new entanglement While Harold made coffee, she called home and checked that all was well with Larry and Becky-Ma. Then Harold suggested they move to the living room and watch television. He produced a bottle of expensive French brandy and poured generous measures into two oversize snifters. Was he trying to stiffen his own courage, Billie wondered, or lower her resistance? She inhaled the vapours of the cognac but did not drink any.
Harold, too, was thoughtful. He was normally an entertaining talker, witty and clever, and she generally laughed a lot when she was with him, but tonight he was preoccupied.
They saw a thriller called Run, Joe, Run! Jan Sterling played a waitress involved with ex-gangster Alex Nichol. Billie could not get interested in the imaginary dangers on the screen. Her mind drifted to the mystery of what Anthony had done to Luke. In OSS they had broken all kinds of laws, and Anthony was still in clandestine work, but all the same Billie was shocked that he had gone this far. Surely different rules applied in peacetime?
And what was his motive? Bern had called and told her of his confession to Luke, and that had confirmed what all her instincts told her, that Luke could not be a spy. But did Anthony believe it? If not, then what was the real reason for what he had done?
Harold turned off the TV and poured himself another brandy. 'I've been thinking about our future,' he said.
Billie's heart sank. He was going to propose. If he had done it yesterday, she would have accepted him. But
