you. Besides we need the outside record. And your name, of course." "Of course. The charge for night deliveries is usually ten dollars." "If you'll let me have a receipt, please." Scofield took the money from his pockeL "And if you wouldn't mind, please specify that delivery is to be made between eleven and eleven-fifteen; that's very important to us. You will make sure of it, won't you?" "I'll do better than that, officer. I'll deliver it myself. I'm on till midnight, so I'll just leave one of the boys in charge and go right over there myself. I really admire the sort of thing you're doing. Crime is simply astronomical these days; we've all got to pitch in, I say." "You're very kind, ma'am." "You know, there're a lot of very strange people around the apartment house where I live. Very strange." "What's the address? I'll have the patrol cars look a little more closely from here on." "Why thank you." "Thank you, ma'am.
It was 9:0 when he walked into the lobby of the Ritz Carlton. He had driven down to the piers and eaten a fish dinner, his time spent thinking about what he and Toni would do after the night was over. Where would they go? How would they live? Finances did not concern him; Winthrop had promised vindication and the calculating head of Consular Operations, the would-be executioner named Daniel Congdon, had been generous in pension and unrecorded benefits that would come his way as long as his silence was maintained. Beowulf Agate was about to disappear from this world; where would Bray Scofield go? As long as Antonia was with him, it did not matter.
"There's a message for you, Mr. Vickery," said the desk clerk, holding out a small envelope.
"Thank you," said Scofield, wondering if beneath the man's white shirt there was a small blue circle inked into his flesh.
The message was only a telephone number. He Crumpled it in his hand and dropped it on the counter.
"Is something wrong?" asked the clerk.
Bray smiled. "Tell that son of a bitch I don't make calls to numbers. Only to names."
He let the telephone ring three times before he picked it up. "Yes?" "You're an arrogant man, Beowulf." The voice was highpitched, crueler than the wind. It was the Shepherd Boy, Nicholas Guiderone.
"I was right, then," said Scofield. "That man downstairs doesn't work full time for the Ritz Carlton. And when he
showers, he can't wash off a small blue circle on his chest." "It's worn with enormous pride, sir. They are extraordinary men and women who have enlisted in our extraordinary cause." "Where do you find them? People who'll blow themselves away and bite into cyanide?" "Quite simply, in our companies. Men have been willing to make the ultimate sacrifice for causes since the dawn of time. It does not always have to be on a battlefield, or in a wartime underground, or even in the world of international espionage. There are many causes; I don't have to tell you that." "Such as themselves? The Fida'is, Guiderone? H an ibn-al Sabbah's cadre of assassinsT' "You've studied the padrone, I see." "Very closely." "rbere are certain practical and philosophical similarities, I will not deny it. These men and women have every~-thing they want on this earth, and when they leave it, their families-wives, children, husbands-will have more than they ever need. Isn't that the dream? With over five hundred companies, computers can select a handful of people willing and capable of entering into the arrangement. A simple extension of the dream, Mr.
Scofield." "Pretty damned extended." "Not really. Far more executives collapse from heart seizure than from violence. Read the daily obituaries. But I'm sure this is only one of many questions. May I. send a car for you?" "You may not." "Fliere's no cause for hostility." "I'm not hostile, I'm cautious. Basically I'm a coward. I've set a schedule and I intend to stick with it. I'll get there at exactly eleven-thirty; you talk, Ill listen. At precisely twelve-fifteen, I'll walk out with the girl and the Russian. A signal will be given, we9ll get into the car and drive to your main gate. Tbat's when you'll get the X-rays and we get away. If there's the slightest deviation, the X-rays will disappear. They'll show up somewhere else." "We have a right to examine them," protested Guiderone. "For accuracy and spectroanalysis; we want to make sure no duplicates were made. We must have time for that." The Shepherd