Shadow of the Condor (30 page)

Malcolm didn't like what it brought along for the ride. .

"As a matter of fact," Malcolm continued, following Chou's advice to get in, plant the bomb, then get out, "I did come back on something sort of related to business."

"Really," Dave said thoughtfully. "Is there more to your survey?"

"Officially my survey is completed," Malcolm said. Don't lose eye contact, he thought. "But there are a few points which I personally found fascinating."

"Perhaps I can help you."
Livingston
's tone was inviting.

"I think you might be able to," accepted Malcolm. "The main point which fascinated me, was history, but then I'm a history buff. It's a shame Neil isn't here because I got the idea from him."

Malcolm saw Fran and Grandmother Stowe exchange a quick, questioning glance.
Livingston
's eyes never left Malcolm's face. Malcolm continued.

"I got to thinking that what this survey lacked was historical depth. We look at it too much in relation to what is immediately happening around us. The quickness of events tends to blind us to the framework in which they occur. We look at you people here today, but we ignore where you were yesterday or the day before. I think that's a shame. "Especially in your family's instance. I was so fascinated by Neil's allusions to the homesteading days, and you know, the more I thought about the historical perspective, the more his story kept coming back to me. Then Friday, quite by chance, for the survey closed yesterday, I came across some stories in old newspapers at the library. "Unfortunately, the paper runs back only to the post-World War Two days. But I browsed through them anyway, and I found a story on you-Robinsons! Now I think that's simply amazing-there you were, in black and white! "But the story bothers me. When I was here before, Neil kept talking about the homesteading days of your family, how they came out here from
Pennsylvania
and homesteaded this very farm. But the story said you bought the farm from some other people. I found that so interesting I thought I would drop by and see if you could help satisfy my curiosity before I leave for D.C. tomorrow."

Malcolm wanted to watch the women's faces as he sat through the awkward silence, but he didn’t dare take his eyes off
Livingston
. The man stared calmly back.

Grandmother Stowe broke the silence. "Oh, that Neil and his teasing! Why ... he was just setting you up, trying to pull your leg. If you'd have stuck around, he would have bored you to tears with white lie's about the Robinsons being big cowboys. We have an awful time with him that way.

"The truth is," she continued, "we did come out here in the 1950's, but it's been so long we tend to think of this as our home. Before that we lived in
Pennsylvania
. Why, we're about the only ones in our family who up and left that area. We'd been there for a long time when we came out here."

Malcolm shifted his gaze to look at the old woman. The dish towel was twisted around her band. "You know," he said with as much relief as he could pretend, "I kind of thought it might be something like that, a tall-story routine."

Fran Robinson nervously laughed.

"Would you like to stay for dinner
Livingston
asked politely. "I'm sure Neil will be better by then and he can tell you all sorts of stories."

‘’No, thank you," Malcolm replied as he rose and walked to the door, "I have to be on my way. My friend is waiting." When he reached the door, he turned and looked at the three relatives who stood frozen in a tableau. "If I don't get a chance to see you again, farewell, and thank you for all your help. You've been very cooperative."

Livingston
stood after the door banged shut. He absently picked up the cup of coffee Fran Robinson had poured and Malcolm had ignored.
Davie
walked to the sink and emptied the cup down the drain while he watched Malcolm drive away. When the jeep had vanished around the bend,
Livingston
turned to face the two silent women. He smiled slightly. His smile became a sneer, then he furiously whipped his arm back and hurled the empty coffee cup across the -kitchen. It shattered against the far wall, leaving a mar which wouldn't wash away.

Malcolm glanced at his watch: nine minutes past midnight. The night air had retained the day's warmth. He was glad he had not worn a sweater under his jacket. He knew it was too late to regret being where he was, so he tried to cheer himself by finding good things in his predicament.

He leaned back against the roof. Stars filled the sky above his head. He couldn't remember ever having seen so many, so brightly. At least not since his youth. Malcolm glanced across the roof to where Chou lay. It would soon be time to relieve the Chinese. Malcolm toyed with the idea of pitching him over the edge into the blackness. But Malcolm knew whose body would actually hurtle the four and a half stories to the sidewalk if he should be foolish enough to attempt anything. Besides, thought Malcolm, it's too late for that kind of thing.

Malcolm and Chou were on the courthouse roof. From their vantage point they could see almost all the town. Immediately below them on their side of the street lay the library to their left, and at the top of the hill to their right, just bordering on the courthouse parking lot, stood a large deserted house. Malcolm's motel was across the street from them, with the main office and the stairs leading to Malcolm's unit clearly visible.

Malcolm and Chou had broken into the courthouse At-most immediately on their return to
Shelby
. The building is deserted on Sunday. It took Chou little time to pick the lock on the main door and the trapdoor leading to the roof. Malcolm was sure Chou's familiarity came from an earlier reconnaissance. Chou was like that. If at all possible, he left no details to chance. Malcolm briefly worried for Sheila, but he knew she was probably safe at her vantage point in a tool shed facing the motel's rear.

Malcolm rendezvoused with Chou and Sheila-at the main highway five minutes after he left the Robinsons. They had driven to a neighborhood in
Shelby
's west side, parked the vehicle and walked back to the motel. During the walk Chou had lectured.

"There are numerous possibilities, of course. However, one thing is fairly obvious. Something is wrong at or with the Robinsons and probably also the Kincaids. Given the other information we have, it is logical to assume that our friend Krumin is somehow involved. I think that
Livingston
, the in-law who visits from time to time, is the elusive Krumin.

"I am only guessing here, but I think the whole thing, the Soviet killed at the missile site and all of that, is probably linked to Krumin, but in a tangential way. At any rate, dying as he did the Russian certainly removed our friends in Whitlash from the security of American security agencies. Isn't it interesting the way that worked out?"

"So?" Malcolm said. "Suppose
Livingston
is Krumin. What then? I'm not stupid enough to think you're going to let me call my people."

"Quite right," replied Chou benevolently, "at least not yet. After I am finished with Krumin, he is all yours."

"And when will that be?"

"You're jumping ahead of yourself, my boy. Suppose the Robinsons' story is true? I doubt it~ but we can't be sure. Let's say, though, that
Livingston
is Krumin. What is he doing here? Why are the Robinsons helping him? Are the Kincaids involved? Before we can act against Krumin, we have to know just a bit more or he will bite off our hand as we go to touch him. If I could risk using your superiors and their resources, we could find an this out very easily, very quickly. But I don1 dare do that. Your superiors are too difficult to manipulate. No, we must rely on our own resources to tell us what we need to know. Our own resources and the help of our suspected Mr. Krumin.

"I sent you there today with those specific questions for a reason other than to get their easily concocted lie. I wanted to stir them up.

"Krumin knew before that you were an agent. He would have had to be a fool not to, and he is no fool. I'm also sure he knows of the other Russian7s death. He usually has a fairly tight communications chain with his superiors. No doubt the Robinson home contains a long-range radio capable of high-speed transmission and reception. If not, there's always the handy little phone in every household linking him to the site that does have a radio.

"Your second visit let him know you think something is fishy with his cover. And that puts him in an awkward bind.

"His first impulse will be to assume the worst and evacuate. But then he'll realize that such a plan doesn't make sense. If you Americans wanted to pick him up, you would not have been sent to tease him. He knows that if you are watching him and he runs, then he confirms your suspicions.

"But can he stay and do nothing? No, certainly not. You are too large a danger. Clearly you are still suspicious: Ensuring that he wouldn't dare hold you on the farm because of your 'appointment' showed that you don't trust him. You may have nothing yet, and, as you implied, you may not have informed your superiors of your suspicions, but he must assume you will continue your investigation.

"To make matters worse, your second visit is in a way very unprofessional, very foolish. Your comments about the investigation being closed but you still being curious are ludicrous. No agent would do that, no true investigation would be closed with one of its chief investigators still curious. In other words, what you did was absurd, amateurish, insane. He won't be able to fit you into a logical pattern.

‘’On top of all this is Krumin’s mission. From everything we have seen and from what I know of his work, he and his superiors view whatever this is as very important. He can't abandon it on such a hazy though real threat. He'll need something more to answer his questions and help him reach a decision."

"And I'm that something more," Malcolm replied dully.

'Correct." Chou smiled. "He needs to know all he can about you. He may already have some information, but what you did today will make him move. He must come out of hiding and go after you. And when and how he does that will tell us what we need to know about the others."

Chou's plan was simple. They parked Malcolm's vehicle on the other side of town to complement the story he had told the motel clerk: He was out, location and plans unknown, and would not be back until late. Sheila phoned in the same information. From their vantage point on the courthouse roof Malcolm and Chou watched the glass encased motel office.

"There are several things they can do," Chou explained. "Kidnap you as we did, burgle your room while you're away or try to kill you outright, assuming you are too immediate a menace to play with."

Malcolm had not replied.

"Malcolm!" -Chou's whisper sharply commanded Malcolm to his side. "Look," he said, "down there."

A pickup truck drove slowly by the motel. It moved up the hill from their left to their right, then vanished. They heard the engine growing fainter in the darkness.

"That's the second time the pickup has passed." Chou spoke softly into the small radio he carried, alerting Sheila. She called back in less than two minutes. "It's coming around to your side again."

The pickup passed by even more slowly this time. Malcolm thought he saw the two occupants carefully examine the motel office. The night clerk went off duty at midnight. The office was deserted.

Chou didn't offer to let Malcolm share the binoculars. Malcolm refused to ask. They listened to the pickup after it topped the hill and vanished from their sight. The engine labored strangely for a much longer period of time than before, then was suddenly silent.

Minutes later Malcolm recognized the two men even without the binoculars' assistance. Matt Kincaid and Peter Robinson, the nephew, strode over the hill and entered the motel's office. Peter went behind the counter briefly, then rejoined his neighbor. They mounted the steps and headed toward Malcolm's room.

"Come!" commanded Chou. "We don't have much time."

Malcolm stumbled twice as they dashed down the stairs of the courthouse, but each time he avoided falling. Chou ran effortlessly ahead. They paused briefly at the door to radio Sheila and make sure the coast was clear before they quietly left the building.

When they found the pickup, Malcolm, as ordered, drew his gun and hung back to cover Chou. The truck was empty. Chou approached it cautiously, verified that no one waited in ambush, then stuck the small radio transmitter under the seat with the send button taped down. He silently shut the pickup door, then hid just inside a shrubbery covered archway twenty yards in front of the pickup. Malcolm hid behind some garbage cans twenty yards to the pickup's rear.

Fifteen minutes later Malcolm heard footsteps. Within seconds the pickup doors softly opened and closed. He knew Chou was listening on a small radio to whatever the two men said. The gun butt was slippery in Malcolm's sweating hand.

The two sharp cracks came less than two seconds apart. Malcolm rolled from behind the garbage cans, his gun pointed to the pickup. The last time he had heard those cracks had been when Chou killed the gopher. Chou stood beside the driver's seat, motioning for him to join him.

"It was really unavoidable," Chou explained in a whisper. "I had intended to take them prisoner, but as I approached the pickup, the passenger leaned forward and quite clearly said, 'ne girl is Chinese tool' I had no choice. Luckily the' driver had his window down and I got them without breaking any glass." Malcolm forced himself not to look into the truck.

"It's as I expected. You'll note the citizen's-band unit. Not uncommon out here and very useful to them, I imagine. With our crude but effective tap I heard them call their base. They said they found neither of you and nothing in your rooms. The voice on the other end ordered them to take up a position where they could watch the motel, then try again when you arrived., They were also instructed not to call in again until they had something definite.