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"That's not necessary, Toni-" "Of course it is," she interrupted, "maybe not for you, but for him.
You wouldn't be here at this hour unless it was necessary."
"It is."
"Then come on in, but plug up your ears while I start the coffee and wake him up." Pryce followed her into the tiny kitchen alcove.
"He's that tough?"
"Imagine a gargoyle roaring. He's used to tropical hours, Cam. Ten or ten-thirty is synonymous with the break of day."
"You know, you speak English so terribly well."
"Blame it on Bray. When we decided we should stay together, he flew in dozens of those records, then tapes on How to Speak, et cetera, et cetera. He went to Harvard, but now claims my grammar is better than his. Frankly, he's right. He doesn't know a dangling participle from an adverb."
"Neither do I," said Cameron, sitting down at the small table as Antonia manipulated the coffee machine.
"But if you'll allow me a moment of curiosity-which you damn well may refuse-how did you decide to 'stay together," as you put it?"
"I suppose the obvious thing is to say love," answered Antonia, turning away from the white plastic coffee appliance and looking at Pryce.
"And certainly there was that, both physically and emotionally, but there was more, so much more. Brandon Scofield was a man in turmoil, hunted by both his superiors and his enemies, each wanting his execution. He could have made-he and Taleniekov could have made numerous compromises that would have eliminated those demands for their deaths. Neither did, for they had found the truth of the Matarese.
The truth, Cameron. So many in private life and in governments were afraid to follow them, for too many had been corrupted.. .. Bray and Vasili said to hell with them, and they never stopped. Taleniekov died so we could escape the carnage, and I was left with a giant, an unassuming, thinking man, in many ways a gentle man until violence is required, and he was perfectly willing to give his life for me. How could I not love that man, how could I not revere him always?"
"He doesn't strike me as a man who wants reverence. He seems to reject it."
"Of course he does. Because it reminds him of the bad days, as he calls them. The days when the gun was the equalizer-you killed, for if you didn't, one of your own would be killed."
"Those days are in the past, Toni. The Cold War is over. That isn't done anymore."
"In nightmares he still remembers. He cut short the lives of the young and the old with a bullet. It never leaves him."
"If he hadn't, our own would have been killed. He knows that, too."
"I suppose he does. I think it's the young fanatics who have always bothered him. They were too young, too vulnerable, to be responsible for their insane commitments."
"They were killers, Antonia."
"They were children, Cameron."
"I'm not equipped to solve Bray's problems, and incidentally, that's not why I'm here."
"Of course not. Why are you here, at this hour?"
"Why don't you get the gargoyle up? It'll save time and I won't have to repeat myself. Frankly, I don't want to stay here too long in case I'm under someone's scope."
"Really?" said Toni, her eyes locked with Cam's.
"Really," replied Pryce softly.
Five minutes later a disheveled Scofield walked into the alcove, followed by Antonia. Both were in bathrobes-Toni's a neat white terry cloth; Brandon's a relic, clean but torn in several places.
"If we'd gone to a decent hotel," he said curtly, "I could have stolen a robe.. .. What the hell is this, son? It better be good or I'll put you on report or whatever these military idiots do-where's some coffee?"
"Sit down, darling, I'm getting it for you."
"So talk, Cam. I haven't willingly gotten up at this hour since a bad night in Stockholm when a young lady had the wrong room but the right key."
"Braggart," said Antonia, bringing two cups of coffee to the table as she sat down.
"None for you?" asked Pryce, nodding at his cup.
"I'm a tea drinker and I'm out-" "And I'm pretty damned curious," Scofield broke in.
"Speak, young man."
"You remember my telling you that our Lieutenant Colonel Montrose appeared to be dogging my tracks?"
"Sure, and I recall suggesting she had the hots for you."
"Which I dismissed out of hand, she didn't. Believe it or not, I know the signs and we're not in Stockholm. So when Bracket was killed last week and she was put in command of security, I figured it was a good time to reverse the procedure. She had far more responsibilities and her concentration had to be split tenfold, besides which she's an overachiever and wants to make her mark at the Pentagon."
"So you began tailing her, right?" Brandon leaned forward, his wrinkled eyes over the coffee cup suddenly alive.
"Yes, very carefully and mostly late at night. Twice, the first time at three o'clock in the morning, the second at four-fifteen the next night, she left her quarters and walked down to the boathouse. There's a single, wire-meshed light in the ceiling over the Chris-Craft; both times she turned it on. I crept up to the small right window and looked inside. On each occasion she pulled out her cellular phone and made a call."
&nbs
p; "That's goddamned stupid," said Scofield.
"Those frequencies can be picked up by anyone with a radio scanner! They're only to be used as communications of last resort."
"That's what I thought," agreed Pryce.
"I was also given to understand that only she and Bracket and you and I had those phones."
"Exactly," confirmed Bray.
"All other telephones are monitored, courtesy of Frank Shields. I wonder who she was calling."
"That's why, using my authority as the CIA senior officer, I drove into Easton this afternoon, ostensibly to pick up newspapers and magazines."
"Why the hell did you get me U.S. News and World Report and those financial rags? You know I don't give a damn about that stuff."
"They didn't have Penthouse, the National Enquirer, or any comic books. However, the literature notwithstanding, that wasn't why I went into town. I used a pay phone, called Frank in Langley, and asked him if he could trace the numbers called on Montrose's cellular. He said sure, all calls were billed. He told me to hang on, and in a minute or two he was back."
"What did he find out?" asked an impatient Scofield.
"Who'd she call?"
"That's the funny thing. No one."
"But you saw her," insisted Toni.
"I certainly did, and I was emphatic about it. Shields told me to hold on again, and when he came back, he had some startling information.
No calls were listed on Montrose's phone, but three were on Colonel Bracket's."
"Those phones all look alike," said Bray.
"She switched them!"
"But why?" pressed Antonia.
"Obviously to cover her ass, luv. But she didn't count on Bracket being killed. His cellular, at least the one he had with him, went back to Langley with the body, didn't it?"
"Another surprise," said Cameron.
"It didn't. Frank assumed that since you and I reached Bracket's and Denny's bodies first, one of us took it."
