He did. In the Salem weekly, there was a photograph taken five days ago showing Senator Joshua Appleton at a groundbreaking ceremony in Swampscott. It was a federal project coordinated with the state of Massachusetts, a middle-income housing development being built on the rocky land north of Phillips Beach. The caption read, BLASTING AND ExcAVATION TO COMMENCE.
The irony was splendid.
He opened the telephone book, and found a gunsmith in Salem; he had no reason to look further. He wrote down the address.
It was 8:37. Time to call the lie that went under the name of Joshua Appleton. He got up and went to the bed, deciding impulsively to phone Logan Airport first. He did, and the words he heard were the words he wanted to hear.
"Seven-fifty-five to Washington? That would be Eastern Flight Six-two.
Let me check, Sir.... There was a twelveminute delay, but the plane's airborne. No change in the E.T.A." Paul Bergeron was on his way to Washington and Robert Winthrop. There would be no delays now, no crisisconferences, no hastily summoned meetings between arrogant men trying to decide how and when to proceed.
Winthrop would call the Oval Office; an immediate audience would be granted and the fun might of government would be pitted against the Matarese. And tomorrow moming-Winthrop had agreed to that-the Senator would be picked up by Secret Service and taken directly to Walter Reed Hospital where he would be subjected to intensive examinations. A twenty-five-year fraud would be exposed, the son destroyed with the Shepherd Boy.
Bray lit a cigarette, sipped his coffee, and picked up the phone. He was in full command; he would concentrate totally on his negotiations, on the exchange that would be meaningless to the Matarese.
The Senator's voice was tense, exhaustion in his tight delivery.
"Nicholas Guiderone wants to see you." "The Shepherd Boy himself," said Scofield. "You know my conditions. Does he? Is he prepared to meet them?" "Yes," whispered the son. "A telephone number he agrees to. He's not sure what you mean by a 'sighting."' "Then there's nothing further to talk about. I'll hang up.,$ 'Vait!#$ "Why? It's a simple word; I told you I had binoculars. What else is there to say? He's refused, Goodbye, Senator.,, "No!" Appleton's breathing was audible. "All right, all right. You'll be told a time and a location when you call the number I give you." "I'll be what? You're a dead man, Senator. If they want to sacrifice you, that's their business-and yours. I suppose, but not mine." "What the hell are you talking about? What's wrong?" "It's unacceptable. I'm not told a time and a location, I tell you and you tell them. Specifically, I give you a location and a time span, Senator. Between three and five o'clock this afternoon, at the north windows of Appleton Hall, the ones looking out over Jamaica Pond. Have you got that? Appleton Hall." "That is the telephone number!" "You don't say. Have the windows lighted, the woman in one room, the Russian in another. I want mobility, coversation; I want to see them walking, talking, reacting. Is that clear?" "Yes. Walking... reacting." "And, Senator, tell your people not to bother looking for me. I won't have the X-rays on me; they'll be with someone else who's been told where to send them if I'm not back at a specific bus stop by five-thirty." "A bus stop?" "The north road below Appleton Hall is a public bus route. Those buses are always crowded and the long curve around Jamaica Pond makes them slow down. If the rain keeps up they'll be slower than usual, won't they. I'll have plenty of time to see what I want to see." "Will you see Nicholas Guiderone?" The question was rushed, on the edge of hysteria.
"If Fm satisfied," said Scofield coldly. "I'll call you from a phone booth around five-thirty." "He wants to talk with you nowl" "Mr. Vickery doesn7t talk to anyone until he checks into the Ritz Carlton Hotel. I thought that was clear." "He's concerned you may have duplicates made; he's very concerned about that." "These are twenty-five and thirty-eight-year-old negatives. Any exposure to photographic light would show up on a spectrograph instantly. I won't get killed for that." "He insists you reach him nowl He says ifs vitall" "Everything's vital." "He says to tell you you're wrong. Very wrong." 'W I'm satisfied this afternoon he'll have a chance to prove it later.