Two Songs This Archangel Sings

'He didn't need a lawyer,' Worde replied as he refilled his pipe with more homegrown marijuana and lit it. 'He had Orville Madison.'

'Come again?' I said, concerned that the marijuana smoke might be making me hear-or Gary Worde say- absurd things.

The hidden veteran puffed on his pipe, blew a thick, night-blue smoke ring. 'Although Veil didn't know it at the time, it was Orville Madison who argued for Veil's release in exchange for his promise to remain silent about everything that had happened.'

'That doesn't make any sense,' Garth said.

Gary Worde threw back his head and laughed loudly. 'It does when you know Madison.'

'Why the hell would Madison do anything to help Kendry?' Garth persisted.

The laughter abruptly stopped, and Worde leaned forward on his stool. 'Madison had been beaten up, both physically and professionally; finally, Veil had defeated him. More than anything else, Madison wanted to exact revenge-and he thought he'd figured out a way to do it. He understood Veil as well as anyone, and it was this understanding that he hoped to use. At this time Veil probably preferred death to imprisonment, because he knew that he would lose his mind behind bars. But Madison couldn't exact the kind of personal revenge he wanted if Veil were dead or in prison. Madison wanted Veil out, where he could get at him. And he managed it. Veil's records were to be completely altered, with all mention of his combat record and medals erased; in effect, Veil was to be erased, made a nonperson. In exchange for his freedom, Veil was to promise never to discuss anything concerning his war record or Operation Archangel.'

Garth shook his head. 'This was Madison's idea of revenge?'

'It was the foundation of it. Madison didn't think Veil could survive for very long outside the army, where his need for violent behavior was not only sanctioned but rewarded. In fact, he had himself wheeled into Veil's stockade cell to tell him just that. Madison told Veil that, in his opinion, Veil would self-destruct within six months, either from drugs, booze, or getting himself stabbed in some back alley.'

'It almost happened,' I said quietly, remembering Garth's description of Veil's first years in New York City.

'I know that better than you,' Worde said. 'But there's more. Madison thought he was being clever, and he was, but he wanted to make absolutely certain that he had all the bases covered. He informed Veil of the fact that, in the event Veil didn't self-destruct, he would kill him anyway.'

'Madison told Veil this?'

Worde nodded. 'It had already been agreed upon that the C.I.A. would keep Veil under constant surveillance to make certain he kept to his part of the bargain, and Veil would do nothing to hinder this surveillance. Madison guessed-correctly-that Veil had probably never known a day of real peace or happiness in his life. Madison said that if and when a moment, a day, came when Veil did find peace and happiness, that would be the time when Madison would have a bullet shot through his brain. In effect, Veil was put under a kind of life sentence of death, and he would never know at what moment that sentence might be carried out.' Gary Worde paused, drew himself up straight, and passed a hand over his eyes. 'That's all Veil told me,' he continued in a voice like a sigh. 'It's all I know.'

'Gary,' I said, 'I didn't mention this before, because Garth and I wanted to hear what you had to say first, but Orville Madison is alive and doing very well, thank you. This isn't the first time we've come across his name in connection with this business.'

'In that case, you know who had somebody wing a shot at Veil,' Gary Worde said without hesitation. 'You also know who's hunting Veil, and you.'

'Agreed. But there are complications. Gary, do you have any idea of what's going on in the country or the world?'

'Not a thing.'

'We have a new president, a man by the name of Kevin Shannon. Shannon seems like a pretty straight arrow, except for the fact that his choice for secretary of state is Orville Madison.'

Gary Worde stared at me for some time, then slowly shook his head. 'That's a good one,' he said in a soft voice. 'And they call me crazy.'

Garth rose from his stool, stretched, and glanced over at me inquiringly. I was fairly certain I knew what he was thinking, and I had a lot of the same questions.

'Gary,' I said, 'you're the only person Veil has ever spoken to about Orville Madison, so we'd like to know your thoughts on a few things. Madison's career not only survived the fiasco of Operation Archangel, it bloomed. Who knows? That could have been the price he exacted for his silence. We know that he's been the C.I.A.'s Director of Operations for the past few years. Now he gets to leap right out on center stage in the diplomatic community as top dog in the State Department and probably in the cabinet. Now comes the question. For all these years, Veil has kept to his part of the bargain; even if he had decided to say something, nobody would have believed him. All of his damaging records-real and phony-would have been mysteriously leaked, and he would have been dismissed as a psychotic crank. The one thing Veil cares about, his painting career, could have been seriously damaged. Finally, it's highly arguable whether anyone would really have cared about Operation Archangel-an incident that happened a long time ago in a war everyone wants to forget anyway. I can't understand how Madison could perceive that he had anything to worry about. Why, then, should this very successful man risk losing everything by sending an assassin after Veil?'

'You want my opinion?'

'Yes.'

'I think you're missing the point by trying to figure out what Madison might have been worried about. I don't think he was worried about anything. I don't think he planned to kill Veil because he thought he had to; I think he did it because he wanted to. Finally, he would take his revenge, and it would be a very satisfying way of capping off his other triumphs. He saw it as finally evening a score. After all, he certainly didn't plan on having his man miss Veil.'

Garth grunted. 'It could be, Mongo,' he said to me in the tone of voice of a newly converted true believer. 'Once his man missed and Kendry disappeared, Madison suddenly really did have a problem, and he knew it. The truce had been broken, and now all bets were off. Now he had to kill Kendry, because- from his past experience-he would necessarily assume that Kendry would stalk and kill him, regardless of the consequences. Then you came on the scene, and Madison realized that what Kendry planned was far worse; Kendry planned to expose him in a way that couldn't be ignored, and then- maybe-kill him. Madison panicked, and by torturing and trying to kill you proceeded to dig himself an even deeper hole. I'll damn well see the bastard buried in this one.'

'If we can get some kind of proof, which we still don't have, and if he doesn't bury us first.' I turned to the hidden veteran. 'Gary, will you come out with us and tell what you know to a Senate committee? If you do, I think Veil might be ready to come out of hiding. He's accomplished one of his goals, to let Garth and me discover the story bit by bit, so that we'd believe and fully understand the enormity of the power he's up against. If you'll come out, I think he'll surface. You're the only person, besides Veil, who has anything more than secondhand knowledge about any of this. I realize that we're asking you to willingly make yourself a target, and I know-'

I stopped speaking when Gary Worde abruptly threw his pipe to the floor and sprang to his feet. Startled, uncertain of what Worde intended to do, both Garth and I started to draw our guns. We stopped when we saw Worde reach over his head, grab the rim of the bottom of the rain barrel and tip it. Water splashed over the flames in the hearth, sending up clouds of hissing steam. The cabin went dark, and when the steam cleared all we could see was the silhouette of Worde's head and shoulders against the window.

'Gary?' I said in a low voice. 'What's the matter?'

'Come here.'

Garth and I walked across the cabin until we were standing next to the bearded man.

'Do you hear it?' Worde continued.

I listened, heard nothing but the almost palpable silence of the mountains. I even held my breath, but still heard nothing. 'No,' I said, and looked at my brother. Garth merely shrugged his shoulders.

'You've been living in noisy places for too long,' Worde said. 'Keep listening.'

Slowly, like an aural mirage arising from a desert of quiet, there came a sound. But this was no mirage. A