Five minutes later he was ready, icelike calm spreading through him as he sat down next to the telephone. The words would be there because the outrage was there; he did not have to think about them, they would come easily. What he had thought about was the sequence. Extortion, compromise, weakness, exchange. Someone within the Matarese wanted to talk with him, recruit him for the most logical reasons in the world; he'd give that man-whoever he was-the chance to do both. It was part of the exchange, prelude to escape. But the first step on the tightrope would not be made by Beowulf Agate; it would be made by the son of the Shepherd Boy.
He picked up the phone; thirty seconds later he heard the famous voice laced with the pronounced Boston accent that reminded so many so often of a young President cut down in Dallas.
"Hello? Hello?" The Senator had been roused from his sleep; it was in the clearing of his throat. "Who's there, for God's sake?" "'There is a grave in the Swiss village of Col du Pillon. If there's a body in the coffin below it's not the man whose name is on the stone." The gasp on the line was electrifying, the silence that followed a scream suspended in the grip of fear. "Who?..." The man was in shock, unable to form the question.
"There's no reason for you to say anything, Julian--' "Stop it!" The scream was released.
"All right, no names. You know who I am-if you don't, the Shepherd Boy hasn't kept his son informed." "I won't listen!" "Yes you will, Senator. Right now that phone is part of your hand; you won't let it go. You can't. So just listen, On November 11, 1943, you and a close friend of yours went to the same dentist on Main Street in Andover, Massachusetts. You had X-rays taken that day." Scofield paused for precisely one second. "I have them, Senator. Your office can confirm it in the morning. Your office also can confirm the fact that yesterday a messenger from the General Accounting Office picked up a set of more recent X-rays from your current dentist in Washington. And finally, if you're so inclined, your office might check the X-ray Depository of the Massachusetts General Hospital in Boston. They'll find that a single plate, frontal X-ray taken twenty-five years ago is missing from the Appleton file. As of an hour ago all are in my possession." There was a quiet, plaintive cry on the line, a moan without words.
"Keep listening, Senator," continued Bray. "You've got a chance. If the girl's alive you've got a chance, if she's not you don't. Regarding the Russian, if he's going to die, I'll be the one who kills him. I think you know why. You see, accommodations can be made. What I know I don't want to know. What you do is no concern of mine, not any longer. What you want, you've already won, and men like me simply end up working for people like you, that's all that ever happens.
Ultimately, there's not much difference between any of you. Anywhere." Scofield paused again, the bait was glaring; would he take it?
He did, the whisper hoarse, the statement tentative. "There are.
people who want to talk with you." "I'll listen. But only after the girl is free, the Russian turned over to me." "The X-rays?..." The words were rushed, cut off; a man was drowning.
"Mat's the exchange." "How?" "We'll negotiate it. You've got to understand, Senator, the only thing that matters to me now is me. The girl and 1, we just want to get away." "What?. Again the man was incapable of forming the question.
"Do I want?" completed Scofield. "Proof that shes alive, that she can still walk." "I don't understand." "You don't know much about exchanges, either. A package that's immobile isn't any package at all; it voids the exchange. I want proof and I've got a very powerful pair of binoculars." "Binoculars?" "Your people will understand. I want a telephone number and a sighting.
Obviously, I'm in the Boston vicinity. I'll call you in the morning. At this number." "There's a debate on the Senate floor, a quorum-" "You'll miss it," said Bray, hanging up.
The first move had been made; telephones would be in use all night between Washington and Boston. Move and countermove, thrust and parry, press and check; the negotiations had begun. He looked at the manila en- velopes on the table. Between calls he