a bit late maybe, but probably for the first time. His lady was taken from him, and he's at the height of his professional prowess, which includes a multitude of lethal capabilities. At his age, one frequently has delusions of invincibility. He wants her back."
"I read you, Wcs. What can we do?"
"He's got to do something first, something that gives us an excuse to sandbag him."
"Sandbag .. . ?"
"Short of putting him in a locked room with sponge rubber walls, at least getting him out of Paris. He's no good to anybody if the bait becomes the hunter."
"I understood he was being watched, under guard."
"So was his brother, Harry, and he escaped from the Brotherhood valley. Don't underestimate the Latham genes. On the other hand, Witkowski and Moreau aren't exactly pikers in counterinsurgency."
"I'm not sure what that means in this context, but I assume it's reassuring."
"I hope to hell it is," said Sorenson.
Under the glare of the desk lamp, Drew studied the names. On Witkowski's list of possible leaks there were seven names, including the Antinayous, and on Moreau's nine, three of them members of the Chamber of Deputies at the Quai d'Orsay, who the Deuxieme chief thought were radically to the right of the political mainstream, in a word, Fascists. On Stanley's list were several rumor-mongering attaches, "floaters," as he called them, who spent more time sucking up to influential French businessmen than at their jobs; two secretaries whose absences suggested alcohol problems; and a Father Manfried Neuman at the Antinayous' Maison Rouge.
Moreau's list, beyond the Quai d'Orsay, were the usual paid informers whose allegiances were exclusively to money, ideology and morality nonexistent.
Working from the viewpoint of reducing the numbers, Latham eliminated Moreau's informers-he had no entre into their ranks-as well as two of the deputies; the third he had met at diplomatic functions. He would call that man, listening hard. Witkowski's list was easier, for he knew five of them by sight and name, casual embassy acquaintances. The remaining two, both women, both suspected of having a drinking problem, he could reach out of the blue, as it were. What he needed were telephone numbers.
"Stanley, I'm so glad you're working late, because you left out something with your seven candidates."
"What the hell are you talking about?" said the angry Witkowski.
"Those are the ones we used for observable leaks."
"We? Who else? Who did the circulation duty?"
"My secretary who came with me from the old G-Two, a former sergeant whom I made a first lieutenant before her discharge."
"Her? She?"
"Service-oriented, son. Her husband was a gunny until he retired after his thirtieth, and he was only fifty-three. Kids are all army brats."
"What does he do now?"
"Plays golf, goes to museums, and still takes French lessons.
He can't get the hang of the lingo."
"Then I don't need her telephone number, but I want all the rest.
Their residences, including the Antinayous' Maison Rouge."
"I can figure where you're coming from. Let me punch up my computer."
Claude Moreau was somewhat more difficult. He was at home, arguing with a son over politics.
"The youth today, they understand nothing!"
"Neither do I, but I need telephone numbers, unless you want me to benevolently usher your guards into a long night's sleep."
"How dare you say such a thing?"
"Easily. I can do it."
"Mon Dieu, Stanley is right, you are impossible! Very well, I'll give you a phone at the Bureau. Call it in five minutes and you'll be given the numbers you want."
"Not want, Claude. Need."
Eleven minutes later, Latham had matched the telephone numbers with every name on both lists. He started calling, using essentially the same words with each.
"This is Colonel Webster, and I believe you know my true identity. What disturbs me is that others have learned it and we've traced the leak to you. What have you got to say for yourself, before you've got nothing left to say?"
Every response was a variation on the same theme. Explosive negatives, down to the point of each one offering to have their phone calls checked, both at their offices and their homes; a number volunteered to take lie-detector tests. Those over with, only a holier-than-thou Antinayou at the Maison Rouge was left.
"Father Neuman, please."
"He's conducting vespers and cannot be disturbed."
"Disturb him. This is a matter of extreme urgency, directly related to your secrecy."
"Mein Gott, I don't know what to do. The father is an ardent priest. Can't you call back in, say, twenty minutes or so?"
"By that time the Red House may be blown up with no one surviving."