The Vulcan Disaster

I was moving too: opening the door of the old building and pounding up the stairs, one hand on that achey rib cage. It wouldn’t be the first time Bob had inadvertently slipped me something important. He had this way of getting around Washington and keeping his eyes and ears open, and I’d have bet he had enough odd information stashed away in that brilliantly disorganized head of his to make or break half of the bigwigs on the Hill. But this? If only he knew what he was talking about this time. I reached the right landing, pushed through the door, chugged down the hall, and tried the fourth knob.

Nothing. The sign on the door said Joel Eigen, Custom Jewelry. Mr. Eigen wasn’t in.

I stood there for a minute, thinking about what Bob Franks had said. Three doors down from yours. No, it’s two now, isn’t it? Almost forgot about that... Of course, the question was, forgot about what? I stepped back and checked the doors: the men’s loo, the Better Beekeeping thing he’d mentioned, the storage room, and the office of...

Of Maytag Corp.: Regional Sales Office...

I let my breath out. Then I moved over one door and tried the knob.

It wasn’t a work day. It shouldn’t have opened.

It did open.

There behind the desk sat David Hawk in his usual grizzly-bear-at-bay attitude in his usual dog’s-blanket suit, savaging one of those ghastly cigars with those strong back teeth of his. He was looking up at me with eyes that held neither irritation nor surprise. He jerked his head at the open door. “Nick. Come on in. Where’ve you been?”

I sat down, a little uneasily... and I told him.

He listened, asking a question now and then in monosyllables and grunts, with a poker face Nick the Greek would have been proud of. When Will Lockwood came on the scene, he betrayed surprise. Just once. One eyebrow went up a millimeter, no more. That was a big reaction. The cigar took one hell of a beating, though.

At the end of my story, Hawk finally realized the stogie had had it. He took it out of his mouth, still unlit, gave it a dirty look for letting him down, and dumped it in the wastebasket. Then he looked at me, the poker face in place again.

“You know there’s going to be a stink,” he said. “About Morse.”

“Uh... yes, sir,” I said. I was preparing a defense. Apologize? No way, sir.

Hawk scowled. “Well, that’s all right. Come to think of it, if you hadn’t creamed him you’d be in worse trouble with me. I’d have put you out to pasture for losing your punch.” His smile, now, was more like anyone else’s idea of a frown, but I could tell the difference. “As it is, you could use a few weeks off...”

“Hey,” I said. “No, sir. No vacations. I’ll wear some elastic around my ribs and I’ll watch my step, but I’m not taking any time off. The only reason I came back when I did was to get more information, and to get plugged back into AXE, and to set things up so I can bust those...”

Hawk put up one broad palm. I slowed down, then stopped dead. “I didn’t say anything about a few weeks in a rest home. You’re going to be working your rear end off, all right; don’t worry about that.”

I sat back and relaxed a little — but only a little.

“Actually,” Hawk continued, “you did pretty well out there, Nick. Matter of fact, I don’t think I know how you could have done better. You...”

“I did lousy,” I said. “I screwed up gloriously. That’s why...”

He waved me to a halt again. “No, no. I know you were flying by the seat of your pants. That’s all right. That’s my fault if it’s anybody’s. I feel bad about that. I’ll never send you out cold like that again, and if I hadn’t been thinking about six other things at the same time I wouldn’t have done it this time. There were complications here. We...”

“I’d been meaning to ask about that. What happened?”

“There was a major compromise, Nick. Here in the capital. Some fool on the staff of a Congressman — we know who, but it won’t do us any good — got hold of a batch of papers he shouldn’t have and leaked it out to one of the papers. We’re right in the middle of a big internal-affairs fight just now, trying to block publication and we may succeed. This time the material is so sensitive even the Washington Post is having qualms about printing it.” Hawk looked at me hard. “Meanwhile, since it impinges on one small corner of our own activity, and comes within an ace of blowing AXE’s own cover, we went underground for the time being. Sorry about that. I had no idea it’d tie your hands at a ticklish time. I thought of taking out a new address altogether, but moving would have telegraphed things completely. I settled on a move next door. Regular movements to and fro, that sort of thing.”

“Oh,” I said. “I thought I’d better mention something.” I told him about Bob Franks, and Bob’s knowing where I worked, which had surprised me. We’d only met at press functions before.