He covered the mouthpiece with his hand and said: 'Just one minute.' Then he said to Marigold: 'Was it any special kind of file?'
'A standard army file folder, thin cardboard, buff-coloured, large enough to hold business letters.'
'Any idea what was in it?' .
'Just papers, it looked like.'
Luke tried to breathe normally. 'How many sheets of paper? One, ten, a hundred?'
'Maybe fifteen or twenty, I guess.'
'Did you happen to see what was on the sheets?'
'No, sir, you didn't take them out'
'And did I still have this file when you took me to the airport?'
There was a silence at the other end.
The stewardess returned. 'Dr Lucas, if you won't board the plane, we'll have to go without you.'
'I'm coming, I'm coming.' He began to repeat his question to Marigold. 'Did I still have the file-'
'I heard you,' she interrupted. 'I'm trying to remember.'
He bit his lip. Take your time.'
'Whether you had it at the house, I can't tell.'
'But at the airport?'
'You know, I don't believe you had it then. I'm picturing you walking away from me into the terminal, and I see you have your bag in one hand, and in the other ... nothing.'
'Are you sure?'
Yes, now I am. You must have left that file here somewhere, either at the base or at home.'
Luke's mind was racing. The file was the reason for his trip to Huntsville, he felt sure. It contained the secret he had found out, the one that Anthony was so desperate for him to forget. Maybe it was a Xerox copy of the original, and he had stashed it somewhere for safekeeping. That was why he had asked Marigold not to tell anyone of his visit it seemed ultra-cautious, but not doubt he had learned such habits in the war.
Now, if he could find the file, he could discover the secret The stewardess had abandoned him, and he saw her running across the tarmac. The plane's propellers were already turning.
'I think that file could be very important,' he told Marigold. 'Could you look around and see if it's there?'
'My lord, Dr Lucas, this is the army! Don't you know there must be a million of them buff-coloured file folders here? How would I know which is the one you were carrying?'
'Just check around, see if there's one someplace where it shouldn't be. As soon as I land at Huntsville, I'll go to the house and search there. Then, if I don't find it, I'll come to the base.' Luke hung up and ran for the plane.
.
11 A. M.
The flight plan is programmed in advance. During flight, signals telemetered to the computer activate the guidance system to keep it on course.
The MATS flight to Huntsville was full of generals. Redstone Arsenal did more than design space rockets. It was the headquarters of the Army Ordnance Missile Command. Anthony, who kept track of this kind of thing, knew that a whole range of weapons were being developed and tested at the base - from the baseball-bat-sized Redeye, for ground troops to use against enemy aircraft, up to the huge surface-to-surface Honest John. The base undoubtedly saw a lot of brass.
Anthony wore sunglasses to conceal the two black eyes Billie had given him. His lip had stopped bleeding, and the broken tooth showed only when he talked. Despite his injuries, he felt energized: Luke was within his grasp.
Should he simply take the first opportunity to kill him? It was temptingly simple. But he worried that he did not know exactly what Luke was up to, He had to make a decision. However, by the time he boarded the plane he had been awake for forty-eight hours straight, and he fell asleep. He dreamed he was twenty-one again, and there were new leaves on the tall trees in Harvard Yard, and a life full of glorious possibilities stretched before him like an open road. Next thing he knew, Pete was shaking him as a corporal opened the aircraft door, and he woke up inhaling' a warm Alabama breeze.
Huntsville had a civilian airport, but this was not it MATS flights came down on the airstrip within Redstone Arsenal. The terminal building was a small wooden hut, the tower an open steel gantry with a one-room flight- control post on top.
Anthony shook his head to clear it as he walked across the parched grass. He was carrying the small bag that held his gun, a false passport, and five thousand dollars in cash, the emergency kit without which he never caught a plane.
Adrenalin enlivened him. In the next few hours he would kill a man, for the first time since the war. His stomach tensed as he thought of it. Where would he do it? One option was to wait for Luke at Huntsville Airport, follow him as he left, and gun him down on the road somewhere. But that was high risk. Luke might well spot the tail and escape. He would never be an easy target. He could yet slip away if Anthony were not extremely careful.
It might be; best to find out where Luke was planning to go, then get there ahead and ambush him. 'I'm going to make some inquiries at the base,' he said to Pete. 'I want you to go to the airport and keep watch. If Luke arrives, or anything else happens, try to reach me here.'
At the edge of the airstrip, a young man in the uniform of a lieutenant waited with a card that read: 'Mr. Carroll, State Department' Anthony shook his hand. 'Colonel Hickam's compliments, sir,' the lieutenant said formally. 'As requested by the State Department, we have provided you with a car.' He pointed to an olive-drab Ford.
'That'll be fine,' Anthony said. He had called the base before catching his plane, brazenly pretending he was under orders from CIA Director Alan Dulles, and demanded army cooperation for a vital mission the details of which were classified. It had worked: this lieutenant seemed eager to please.
'Colonel Hickam would be glad if you would drop by headquarters at your convenience.' The lieutenant handed Anthony a map. The base was enormous, Anthony realized. It stretched several miles south, all the way to the Tennessee River. 'The headquarters building is marked on the map,' the soldier went on. 'And we have a message, asking you to call Mr. Carl Hobart in Washington.'
'Thank you, Lieutenant Where's Dr Claude Lucas's office?'
'That'll be the Computation Laboratory.' He took out a pencil and made a mark on the map. 'But all those guys are down to Cape Canaveral this week.'
'Does Dr Lucas have a secretary?'
'Yes - Mrs. Marigold Clark.'
She might know Luke's movements. 'Good.'
Lieutenant, this is my colleague Pete Maxell. He needs to get to the civilian airport to meet a flight'
'I'd be glad to, drive him there sir.' .
'I appreciate that. If he needs to reach me here at the base, what's the best way?'
The lieutenant looked at Pete. 'Sir, you could always leave a message at Colonel Hickam's office, and I would try to get it to Mr. Garroll'
'Good enough,' Anthony said decisively. 'Let's get going,'
He got into the Ford, checked the map, and started out It was a typical army base. Arrow-straight roads ran through rough woodland broken by neat rectangles of lawn close cropped like a conscript's haircut. The buildings were all flat-roofed structures of tan brick. It was well signposted, and he easily found the Computation Lab, a T- shaped building two storeys high. Anthony wondered why they needed so much space to make calculations, then realized they must have a powerful computer in there.
He parked outside and thought for a few moments. He had a simple question to ask: where in Huntsville did Luke plan to go? Marigold probably knew, but she would :be defensive of Luke and wary of a stranger, especially one with two black eyes. However, she had been left behind here when most-of the people, she worked with had gone to Cape Canaveral for the big event, so she was probably also feeling lonely and bored.
He went into the building. In an outer office were three small desks, each with a typewriter. Two were vacant The third was occupied by a Negro woman of about fifty wearing spectacles with diamante rims, and a
