then dashed into the bedroom, removing his trousers, shoes, socks, and shirt, and grabbed the hotel bathrobe from the closet. He stopped briefly, looking down at the bedside table; he opened the top drawer and pulled out the small automatic supplied by the embassy and shoved it into the terry-cloth pocket. He returned to the door and opened it.
"Catbird, if I -remember correctly," he said, admitting the pale, gray-faced man wearing steel-rimmed glasses.
"Oh, that," remarked the visitor, smiling pleasantly.
"It was a harmless ruse."
"A trick? What do you mean? What for?"
"Washington told me you were probably exhausted, more out of the picture than in it, so I decided to cover myself in case you were hyper and felt the need to make phone calls. D.C. doesn't want my participation known at this point. Later, of course, but not now."
"So you're not Catbird-"
"I knew that if I used the code name Sting, you'd let me in," the man interrupted.
"May I sit down? I'll only be a few minutes."
"Certainly," replied a bewildered Harry, gesturing ainileisly toward the couch and several chairs. The visitor chose the center of the couch as Latham sat in an armchair directly across, a coffee table between them.
"Why doesn't Washington want your presence your participation known
"You I re certainly much more alert than you were last evening," said the stranger, again pleasantly.
"Heaven knows you weren't traumatic, but you definitely weren't yourself."
"I was pretty tired-"
"Tired?" The visitor raised both his voice and his eyebrows.
"My dear fellow, you practically passed out as we talked. At one point I had to grab your arm to keep you from failing.
Don't you remember, I said I'd come back when you were rested?"
"Yes, I vaguely remember, but please answer my question, and while you're at it, show me some identification. Why does Washington want you to be a ghost? I'd think the opposite would be the case."
"Quite simply, because we don't know who's really secure and who isn't." The man removed first his pocket watch, placing it on the table, and then a black plastic ID case; he kept it closed and handed it across the coffee table to Latham.
"I'm timing myself so not to wear you out. Orders again."
Fingering the small case, Harry had difficulty opening it.
"Where's the clasp?" he asked as his visitor held up the pocket watch and pressed the crown.
"I can't find the-" Latham stopped.
His eyes grew unfocused, the pupils dilated; he blinked briefly but repeatedly, then his face sagged, the tense muscles turning flaccid.
, "Hello, Alex," said the visitor sharply.
"It's your old sawbones, Gerhardt. How are you, my friend?"
"Fine, Dr. Straightface, it's good to hear from you."
"Our telephone connection's better this evening, isn't it?"
"Telephone? I guess so."
"Did everything go well today at the embassy?"
"Hell, no! Those idiots kept asking questions they should find the answers for, not me." '
"Yes, I understand. Men in that other business of yours -the one we never mention-protect themselves at all costs, don't they?"
"It's in every question they ask, every word they say. Frankly, it's deplorable."
"I'm sure it is. So what are your plans, what have the idiots allowed you to do?"
"I'm flying to Paris in the morning. I'll see my brother, and also someone I'm very fond of, Gerhardt. The widow of a man I worked with covering East Berlin. I'm quite excited about seeing her again.
She'll meet me at the airport, the diplomatic complex, in an embassy car."
"Your brother can't meet you, Alex?"
"No.. .. Wait! Alex's brother?"
"Never mind," said the gray-faced visitor quickly.
"The brother you speak of, where is he?"
"It's off the books. They tried to kill him."
"Who tried to kill him?"
"You know. They did .. . we did."
Chapter Ten
"Tomorrow morning, the diplomatic complex. That's De Gaulle airport, right?"
"Yes. Our ETA is ten o'clock."
"Fine, Alex. Have a splendid reunion with your brother and the woman you find so attractive. ""Oh it's more than her looks, Gerhardt. She's extraordinarily intelligent, a scholar actually."
"I'm sure she is, for my friend Lassiter is a deep man with many facets. We'll talk again, Alex."
"Where are you going, where are you?"
"They're beeping me for the OR. I have to operate."
"Yes, of course. You'll call again?"
"Certainly." The visitor wearing steel-rimmed glasses leaned forward over the edge of the coffee table; he continued quietly, firmly, staring into Latham's neutral eyes.
"Remember, old friend, respect the wishes of your guest from Washington. He's under orders. Forget his name, which you just read on his identification.
It's authentic, that's all you really care about."
"Sure. Orders are orders, even when they're stupid."