again and listened politely. 'Rarely do we have such an honor. In fact, this is the first time.' He turned to Trench Coat, still smiling. 'This is my, er, traveling companion, Martin Romberg. Very capable man, you know. And my secretary,' he indicated a girl in thick-lensed glasses who was just out of her teens, 'Martha Camisole.'
He went around the room introducing each one and with every nod I handed out I got back a smile that tried hard to be nice but was too scared to do a good job of it.
We finished the coffee, had another and a smoke before Gladow looked at his watch. I could see damn well he had another question coming up and I let him take his time about asking it. He said, 'Er, you are quite satisfied with the operation at this point, comrade? Would you care to inspect our records and documents?'
My scowl was of surprise, but he didn't know that. His eyebrows went up and he smiled craftily. 'No, comrade, not written documents. Here, in the base, we have experts who commit the documents . . .' he tapped the side of his head, 'here.'
'Smart,' I grunted. 'What happens if they talk?'
He tried to seem overcome with the preposterous. 'Very funny, comrade. Quite, er . . . yes. Who is there to make them talk? That is where we have the advantage. In this country force is never used. The so-called third degree has been swept out. Even a truthful statement loses its truth if coercion is even hinted at. The fools, the despicable fools haven't the intelligence to govern a country properly! When the party is in power things will be different, eh, comrade?'
'Much, much different,' I said.
Gladow nodded, pleased. 'You, er, care to see anything of special importance, comrade?' His voice had a gay tone.
'No, nothing special. Just checking around.' I dragged on the butt and blew a cloud of smoke in his face. He didn't seem to mind it.'
'Then in your report you will state that everything is satisfactory here?'
'Sure, don't give it another thought.'
There was more sighing. Some of the fear went out of their eyes. The Camisole kid giggled nervously. 'Then may I say again that we have been deeply honored by your visit, comrade,' Gladow said. 'Since the sudden, untimely death of our former, er, compatriot, we have been more or less uneasy. You understand these things of course. It was gratifying to see that he was not identified with the party in any way. Even the newspapers are stupid in this country.'
I had to let my eyes sink to the floor or he would have seen the hate in them. I was an inch away from killing the bastard and he didn't know it. I turned my hand over to look at the time and saw that it was close to midnight. I'd been in the pigsty long enough. I set the empty cup down on the table and walked to the door. The crumbs couldn't even make good coffee.
All but two of the lesser satellites had left, their desks clear of all papers. The guy on the photography rig was stuffing the microfilm in a small file case while a girl burned papers in a metal wastebasket. I didn't stop to see who got the film. There was enough of it that was so plain that I didn't need any pictures drawn for me.
Gladow was hoping I'd shake hands, but he got fooled. I kept them both in my pockets because I didn't like to handle snakes, not of their variety.
The outside door slammed shut and I heard some hurried conversation and the girl at the desk say, 'Go right in.' I was standing by the inside door when she opened it.
I had to make sure I was in the right place by taking a quick look around me. This was supposed to be a Commie setup, a joint for the masses only, not a club for babes in mink coats with hats to match. She was one of those tall, willowy blondes who reached thirty with each year an improvement.
She was almost beautiful, with a body that could take your mind off beauty and put it on other things. She smiled at Gladow as soon as she saw him and gave him her hand.
His voice took on a purr when he kissed it. 'Miss Brighton, it is always a pleasure to see you.' He straightened up, still smiling 'I didn't expect you to come at this hour.'
'I didn't expect you to be here either, Henry. I decided to take the chance anyway. I brought the donations.' Her voice was like rubbing your hand on satin. She pulled an envelope out of her pocketbook and handed it to Gladow unconcernedly. Then, for the first time, she saw me.
She squinted her eyes, trying to place me.
I grinned at her. I like to grin at a million bucks.
Ethel Brighton grinned back.
Henry Gladow coughed politely and turned to me. 'Miss Brighton is one of our most earnest comrades. She is chiefly responsible for some of our most substantial contributions.'
He made no attempt to introduce me. Apparently nobody seemed to care. Especially Ethel Brighton. A quick look flashed between them that brought the scowl back to her face for a brief moment. A shadow on the wall that came from one of the Trench Coats behind me was making furious gestures.
I started to get the willies. It was the damnedest thing I had ever seen. Everybody was acting like at a fraternity initiation and for some reason I was the man of the moment. I took it as long as I could. I said, 'I'm going uptown. If you're going back you can come along.'
For a dame who had her picture in most of the Sunday supplements every few weeks, she lost her air of sophistication in a hurry. Her cheeks seemed to sink in and she looked to Gladow for approval. Evidently he gave it, for she nodded and said, 'My car . . . it's right outside.'
I didn't bother to leave any good nights behind me. I went through the receptionist's cubicle and yanked the door open. When Ethel Brighton was out I slammed it shut. Behind me the place was as dark as the vacant hole it was supposed to be.
Without waiting to be asked I slid behind the wheel and held out my hand for the keys. She dropped them in my palm and fidgeted against the cushions. That car . . . it was a beauty. In the daylight it would have been a maroon convertible, but under the street lights it was a mass of mirrors with the chrome reflecting every bulb in the sky. Ethel said, 'Are you from . . . New York?'
'Nope. Philly,' I lied.
For some reason I was making her mighty nervous. It wasn't my driving because I was holding it to a steady thirty to keep inside the green lights. I tried another grin. This time she smiled back and worried the fingers of her gloves.
I couldn't get over it, Ethel Brighton a Commie! Her old man would tan her hide no matter how old she was if he ever heard about it. But what the hell, she wasn't the only one with plenty of rocks who got hung up on the red flag. I said, 'It hasn't been too easy for you to keep all this under your hat, has it?'
Her hands stopped working the glove. 'N-no. I've managed, though.'
'Yeah. You've done a good job.'
'Thank you.'
'Oh, no thanks at all, kid. For people with intelligence it's easy. When you're, er, getting these donations, don't people sorta wonder where it's going?'
She scowled again, puzzled. 'I don't think so. I thought that was explained quite fully in my report.'
'It was, it was. Don't get me wrong. We have to keep track of things, you know. Situations change.' It was a lot of crap to me, but it must have made sense to her way of thinking.
'Usually they're much too busy to listen to my explanations, and anyway, they can deduct the amounts from their income tax.'
'They ought to be pretty easy to touch, then.'
This time she smiled a little. 'They are. They think it's for charity.'
'Uh-huh. Suppose your father finds out what you've been doing?'
The way she recoiled you'd think I smacked her. 'Oh . . . please, you wouldn't!'
'Take it easy, kid. I'm only supposing.'
Even in the dull light of the dash I could see how pale she was. 'Daddy would . . . never forgive me. I think he'd send me some place. He'd disinherit me completely.' She shuddered, her hands going back to the glove again. 'He'll never know. When he does it will be too late!'
'Your emotions are showing through, kid.'
'So would yours if . . . oh . . . oh . . . I didn't mean . . .' Her expression made a sudden switch from rage to that of fear. It wasn't a nice fear, it was more like that of the girl on the bridge.
