had sealed all of them, weighed and stamped them; they were ready to go.
Except one, and there was no reason to believe he would mail it, the tragedy found in the disappearance of the man and what he might have done. It was time to call his old friend from Paris back. He picked up the phone and dialed.
"Bray, thank Godl We've been waiting for hoursl".'We?" "Ambassador Winthrop." "He's there?" "It's all right. It was handled extremely well. His man, Stanley, assured me that no one could possibly have followed them and for all purposes, the ambassador is in Alexandria." "Stanley's good!" Scofieldfelt like yelling to the skies in sheer relief, sheer joy. Winthrop was alive! The flanks were covered, the Matarese destroyed. He was free to negotiate as he had never negotiated in his life before, and he was the best there was. "Let me talk to Winthrop." "Brandon, I'm on the line. I'm afraid I took the phone from your friend quite rudely. Forgive me, my dear." "What happened? I tried calling you-" "I was hurt-not seriously-but enough to require treatment. I went to a doctor I knew in Fredericksburg; he has a private clinic. It wouldn't do for the eldest of socalled statesmen to show up at a Washington hospital with a bullet in his arm. I mean, can you imagine Harriman turning up in a Harlem emergency ward with a gunshot wound? I couldn't involve you any further, Brandon." "Jesus. I should have considered that." "You had enough to consider. Where are you?" "Outside of Boston. There's so much to tell you, but not on the phone.
It's all in an envelope, along with four strips of X-rays. I've got to get it to you right away, and you've got to get it to the President." "The Matarese?" "More than either of us could imagine. I have the proof." "Take the first plane to Washington. I'll reach the President now and get you full protection, a military escort, if need be. The search will be called off." "I can't do that, sir." "V~%y not?" The Ambassador was incredulous.
"rbere are... hostages involved. I need time. They'll be killed unless I negotiate." "Negotiate? You don't have to negotiate. If you have what you say you have, let the government do it." "It takes roughly one pound of pressure and less than a fifth of a second to pull a trigger," said Scofield. "I've got to negotiate.... But you see, I can now. I'll stay in touch, pinpoint the exchange ground. You ran cover me." "Ibose words again," said Winthrop. "They never leave your vocabulary, do they?" "I've never been so grateful for them." "How much time?" "It depends; it's delicate. Twenty-four, possibly thirty hours. It has to be less than forty-eight; that's the deadline." "Get the proof to me, Brandon. There's an attorney, his firm's in Boston but he lives in Waltham. He's a good friend. Do you have a car?" "Yes. I can get to Waltham in about forty minutes." "Good. I'll call him; he'll be on the first plane to Washington in the morning. His name is Paul Bergeron; you'll have to get his address from the phone book." "No problem."
It was 1:45 A.M. when Bray rang the bell of the fieldstone house in Waltham. The door was opened by Paul Bergeron, dressed in a bathrobe, creases of concern on his aging, Intelligent face.
"I know I'm not to ask your name, but would you care to come in? From what I gather, I'm sure you can use a drink." 'q7hanks just the same, but I still have work to do. Here's the envelope, and thanks again." "Another time, perhaps." The attorney looked at the thick manila envelope in his hand. "You know, I feel the way Jim St. Clair must have felt when he got that last call from Al Haig. Is this some kind of smoking-gun?" "It's on fire, Mr. Bergeron." "I called the airline an hour ago; I'm on the 7:55 to Washington. Winthrop will have this by ten in the morning." "Thanks. Good night. Scofield drove back toward Salem, scanning the roads instinctively for signs of anyone following him; there were none, nor did he expect to see any. He was also looking for an all-night supermarket. Their wares were rarely, if ever, restricted to foodstuffs.
He found one on the outskirts of Medford, set back from the highway. He parked in front, walked inside, and saw what he was looking for in the second