Code to Zero

  "I wonder if you told her the purpose of the trip."

  "I doubt it. I didn't tell anyone at Cape Canaveral."

  "She's not at Cape Canaveral. And you might trust your own secretary more than anyone else."

  Luke nodded. "Anything's possible. I'll check. It's the most promising lead so far." He took out the diary and looked again at the phone numbers in the back. "Bingo," he said. "Marigold--Home." He sat at the desk and dialed the number. He wondered how much longer he had before Pete and the other agents came back.

  Billie seemed to read his mind and started packing his stuff into the black leather bag.

  The phone was answered by a sleepy woman with a slow Alabama accent. Luke guessed from her voice that she was black. He said, "I'm sorry to call so late. Is this Marigold?"

  "Dr. Lucas! Thank God you've called. How are you?"

  "I'm fine, I think, thank you."

  "Well, what in heaven happened to you? No one knew where you were at--and now I hear tell you lost your memory. Is that so?"

  "Yes."

  "Well, now, how did that come to pass?"

  "I don't know, but I'm hoping you might help me figure it out."

  "If I can. . . ."

  "I'd like to know why I suddenly decided to go to Washington on Monday. Did I tell you?"

  "You sure didn't, and I was curious."

  It was the answer Luke expected, but still he felt disappointed. "Did I say anything that gave you a hint?"

  "No."

  "What did I say?"

  "You said you needed to fly to Washington via Huntsville, and you asked me to make reservations on MATS flights."

  MATS was the military airline, and Luke guessed he was entitled to use it when on Army business. But there was something he did not understand. "I flew via Huntsville?" No one else had mentioned that.

  "You said you wanted to stop over here for a couple of hours."

  "I wonder why."

  "Then you said something kind of strange. You asked me not to tell anyone that you were coming to Huntsville."

  "Ah." Luke felt sure this was an important clue. "So it was a secret visit?"

  "Yes. And I've kept it secret. I've been questioned by Army security and the FBI, and I didn't tell either one of them, because you said not to. I didn't know if I was doing right or not, when they said you had disappeared, but I figured I better stick with what you told me. Did I do right?"

  "Gosh, Marigold, I don't know. But I appreciate your loyalty." The fire alarm stopped ringing. Luke realized he had run out of time."I have to go now," he told Marigold. "Thanks for your help."

  "Well, you bet. Now you just take care, hear?" She hung up.

  "I've packed your stuff," Billie said.

  "Thanks," he said. He took his own black coat and hat from the closet and put them on. "Now let's get out of here before the spooks come back."

  >>>
  They drove to an all-night diner near the FBI building, around the corner from Chinatown, and ordered coffee. "I wonder when the first flight to Huntsville leaves in the morning," Luke said.

  "We need the Official Airline Guide," Billie said.

  Luke looked around the diner. He saw a pair of cops eating doughnuts, four drunk students ordering hamburgers, and two underdressed women who might have been prostitutes. "I don't think they'll keep it behind the counter here," he said.

  "I bet Bern has one. It's the kind of thing writers like. They're always looking stuff up."

  "He's probably asleep."

  Billie stood up. "Then I'll wake him. Got a dime?"

  "Sure." Luke still had a pocket full of the change he had stolen yesterday.

  Billie went to the payphone beside the restrooms. Luke sipped his coffee, watching her. As she talked into the phone she smiled and tilted her head, being charming to someone she had woken up. She looked bewitching, and he ached with desire for her.

  She returned to the table and said, "He's going to join us and bring the book."

  Luke checked his watch. It was two A.M. "I'll probably go straight to the airport from here. I hope there's an early flight."

  Billie frowned. "Is there a deadline?"

  "There might be. I keep asking myself: What could have made me drop everything and rush to Washington? It has to be something to do with the rocket. And what could that be if not a threat to the launch?"

  "Sabotage?"

  "Yes. And if I'm right, I have to prove it before ten-thirty tonight."

  "Do you want me to fly to Huntsville with you?"

  "You have to take care of Larry."

  "I can leave him with Bern."

  Luke shook his head. "I don't think so . . . thanks."

  "You always were an independent son of a gun."

  "It's not that," he said. He wanted her to understand. "I'd love you to come with me. That's the trouble--I'd like it too much."

  She reached across the plastic tabletop and took his hand. "It's okay," she said.

  "This is confusing, you know? I'm married to someone else, but I don't know how I feel about her. What's she like?"

  Billie shook her head. "I can't talk to you about Elspeth. You have to rediscover her yourself."

  "I guess so."

  Billie brought his hand to her lips and kissed it softly.

  Luke swallowed. "Did I always like you so much, or is this new?"

  "This is not new."

  "It seems we get on really well."

  "No. We fight like hell. But we adore one another."

  "You said we were lovers, once--in that hotel suite."

  "Stop it."

  "Was it good?"

  She looked at him with tears in her eyes. "The best."

  "Then how come I'm not married to you?"

  She began to cry, soft sobs that shook her small frame. "Because. . . . " She wiped her face and took a deep breath, then started crying again. At last she blurted out, "You got so mad at me, you didn't speak to me for five years."

  1945

  Anthony's parents had a horse farm near Charlottesville, Virginia, a couple of hours from Washington. It was a big white timber-framed house with rambling wings that contained a dozen bedrooms. There were stables and tennis courts, a lake and a stream, paddocks and woodland. Anthony's mother had inherited it from her father, along with five million dollars.

  Luke arrived there on the Friday after Japan surrendered. Mrs. Carroll welcomed him at the door. She was a nervous blonde woman who looked as if she had once been very beautiful. She showed him to a small, spotlessly clean bedroom with a polished board floor and a high old-fashioned bed.

  He changed out of his uniform--he now held the rank of major--and put on a black cashmere sport coat and gray flannel pants. As he was tying his tie, Anthony looked in. "Cocktails in the drawing room whenever you're ready," he said.

  "I'll be right there," Luke said. "Which room is Billie's?"

  A worried frown flickered across Anthony's face. "The girls are in the other wing, I'm afraid," he said. "The admiral is old-fashioned about that sort of thing." His father had spent his life in the Navy.

  "No problem," Luke said with a shrug. He had spent the last three years moving around occupied Europe at night: he would be able to find his lover's bedroom in the dark.

  When he went downstairs at six o'clock, he found all his old friends waiting. As well as Anthony and Billie, there were Elspeth, Bern, and Bern's girlfriend, Peg. Luke had spent much of the war with Bern and Anthony, and every leave with Billie, but he had not seen Elspeth or Peg since 1941.

  The admiral handed him a martini and he took a satisfying gulp. This was a time to celebrate if ever there was one. The conversation was noisy and high-spirited. Anthony's mother looked on with a vaguely pleased expression, and his father drank cocktails faster than anyone else.

  Luke studied them all over dinner, comparing them with the golden youths who had been so worried, four years ago, about being expelled from Harvard. Elspeth was painfully thin after three years on iro
n rations in wartime London: even her magnificent breasts seemed smaller. Peg, who had been a dowdy girl with a big heart, was now smartly dressed, but her skillfully made-up face looked hardened and cynical. Bern at twenty-seven looked ten years older. This had been his second war. He had been wounded three times, and he had the gaunt face of a man who has known too much suffering, his own and other people's.

  Anthony had come through best. He had seen some action, but had spent most of the war in Washington. His confidence, his optimism, and his off-beat humor had survived intact.

  Billie, too, seemed little changed. She had known hardship and bereavement in childhood, and perhaps that was why the war had not bruised her. She had spent two years undercover in Lisbon, and Luke knew--though the others did not--that she had killed a man there, cutting his throat with silent efficiency in the yard behind the cafe where he had been about to sell secrets to the enemy. But she was still a small bundle of radiant energy, gay at one moment and fierce at the next, her constantly changing face a study that Luke never tired of.

  It was remarkably lucky that they were all still alive. Most such groups would have lost at least one friend. "We should drink a toast," he said, lifting his wine glass. "To those who survived--and those who did not."

  They all drank, then Bern said, "I have another. To the men who broke the back of the Nazi war machine--the Red Army."

  They all drank again, but the admiral looked displeased and said, "I think that's enough toasts."

  Bern's communism was still strong, but Luke felt sure he was no longer working for Moscow. They had made a deal, and Luke believed Bern had kept the bargain. Nevertheless, their relationship had never returned to its old warmth. Trusting someone was like holding a little water in your cupped hands--it was so easy to spill the water, and you could never get it back. Luke was sad every time he recalled the comradeship he and Bern had shared, but he felt helpless to regain it.

  Coffee was served in the drawing room. Luke handed the cups around. As he offered cream and sugar to Billie, she said in a low voice, "East wing, second floor, last door on the left."

  "Cream?"

  She raised an eyebrow.

  He smothered a laugh and passed on.

  At ten-thirty, the admiral insisted the men move to the billiard room. Hard liquor and Cuban cigars were laid out on a sideboard. Luke refused more booze: he was looking forward to sliding between the sheets next to Billie's warm, eager body, and the last thing he wanted to do then was fall asleep.

  The admiral poured himself a big tumbler of bourbon and took Luke to the far end of the room to show him his guns, standing in a locked display rack on the wall. Luke's family were not hunters, and guns to him were for killing people, not animals, so he took no pleasure in them. He also felt strongly that guns and liquor made a bad combination. However, he feigned interest in order to be polite.

  "I know and respect your family, Luke," the admiral said as they examined an Enfield rifle. "Your father is a very great man."

  "Thank you," Luke said. This sounded like the preamble to a rehearsed speech. His father had spent the war helping to run the Office of Price Administration, but the admiral probably still thought of him as a banker.

  "You'll have to think of your family when you choose a wife, my boy," the admiral went on.

  "Yes, sir, I will." Luke wondered what was on the old man's mind.

  "Whoever becomes Mrs. Lucas will have a place waiting for her in the upper reaches of American society. You must pick a girl who can carry that off."

  Luke began to see where this was going. Annoyed, he abruptly put the rifle back in the rack. "I'll bear that in mind, Admiral," he said, and he turned away.

  The admiral put a hand on his arm, stopping him. "Whatever you do, don't throw yourself away."

  Luke glared at him. He was determined not to ask the admiral what he was getting at. He thought he knew the answer, and it would be better if it was not said.

  But the admiral was determined. "Don't get stuck with that little Jewess--she's not worthy of you."

  Luke gritted his teeth. "If you'll excuse me, this is something I'd rather discuss with my own father."

  "But your father doesn't know about her, does he?"

  Luke flushed. The admiral had scored a point. Luke and Billie had not met one another's parents.

  There had hardly been time. Their love affair had been conducted in snatched moments during a war. But that was not the only reason. Deep in Luke's heart a small, mean-spirited voice told him that a girl from a dirt-poor Jewish family was not his parents' idea of the right wife for their son. They would accept her, he felt sure--indeed, they would come to love her, for all the reasons he loved her. But at first they might be a little disappointed. Consequently, he was eager to introduce her to them in the right circumstances, on a relaxed occasion when they would have time to get to know her.

  The fact that there was a grain of truth in the admiral's insinuation made Luke even angrier. With barely controlled aggression, he said, "Forgive me if I warn you that these remarks are personally offensive to me."

  The room went quiet, but Luke's veiled threat passed right over the head of the drunk admiral. "I understand that, son, but I've lived longer than you, and I know what I'm talking about."

  "Pardon me, you don't know the people involved."

  "Oh, but I think I may know more about the lady in question than you do."

  Something in the admiral's tone sounded a warning, but Luke was angry enough to ignore it. "The hell you do," he said with deliberate rudeness.

  Bern tried to intervene. "Hey, guys, lighten up, will you? Let's shoot some pool."

  But nothing could stop the admiral now. He put his arm around Luke's shoulders. "Look, son, I'm a man, I understand," he said with an assumption of intimacy that Luke resented. "So long as you don't take matters too seriously, there's no harm in pronging a little tart, we've all--"

  He never finished the sentence. Luke turned toward him, put both hands on his chest, and shoved him away. The admiral staggered back, arms flailing, and his glass of bourbon went flying through the air. He tried to regain his balance, failed, and sat down hard on the rug. Luke shouted at him, "Now knock it off before I close your filthy mouth with my fist!"

  Anthony, white-faced, grabbed Luke's arm, saying, "Luke, for Christ's sake, what do you think you're doing?"

  Bern stepped between them and the fallen admiral. "Calm down, both of you," he said.

  "The hell with calm," Luke said. "What kind of man invites you to his house then insults your girlfriend? It's about time someone taught the old fool a lesson in manners!"

  "She is a tart," the admiral said from his sitting position. "I should know, goddamn it." His voice rose to a roar. "I paid for her abortion!"

  Luke was stunned. "Abortion?"

  "Hell, yes." He struggled to his feet. "Anthony got her pregnant, and I paid a thousand dollars for her to get rid of the little bastard." His mouth twisted in a spiteful grin of triumph. "Now tell me I don't know what I'm talking about."

  "You're lying."

  "Ask Anthony."

  Luke looked at Anthony.

  Anthony shook his head. "It wasn't my baby. I told my father it was, so that he'd give me the thousand dollars. But it was your baby, Luke."

  Luke blushed to the roots of his hair. The drunk old admiral had made a complete fool of him. He was the ignorant one. He thought he knew Billie, yet she had kept something as big as this a secret from him. He had fathered a child, and his girlfriend had had an abortion, and they knew about it but he did not. He was utterly humiliated.

  He stormed out of the room. He crossed the hall and burst into the drawing room. Only Anthony's mother was there: the girls must have gone to bed. Mrs. Carroll saw his face and said, "Luke, my dear, is something wrong?" He ignored her and went out, slamming the door.

  He ran up the stairs and along the east wing. He found Billie's room and went in without knocking.

  She was lying nake
d on the bed, reading, her head resting on her hand, her curly dark hair falling forward like a breaking wave. For a moment, the sight of her took his breath away. Light from a bedside lamp painted a line of gold at the edge of her body, from her neat small shoulder, along her hip, and down one slender leg to her red toenail. But her beauty only made him angrier.

  She looked up at him with a happy smile, then her face darkened when she saw his expression.

  He yelled, "Have you ever deceived me?"

  She sat upright, scared. "No, never!"

  "That fucking admiral says he paid for you to have an abortion."

  Her face paled. "Oh, no," she said.

  "Is it true?" Luke shouted. "Answer me!"

  She nodded, began to cry, and buried her face in her hands.

  "So you did deceive me."

  "I'm sorry," she sobbed. "I wanted to have your baby--wanted it with all my heart. But I couldn't talk to you. You were in France, and I didn't know if you were ever coming back. I had to decide all on my own." She raised her voice. "It was the worst time of my life!"

  Luke was dazed. "I fathered a child," he said.

  Her mood changed in a flash. "Don't get maudlin," she said scornfully. "You weren't sentimental about your sperm when you fucked me, so don't start now--it's too damn late."

  That stung him. "You should have told me. Even if you couldn't reach me at the time, you should have told me at the first opportunity, the next time I came home on leave."

  She sighed. "Yes, I know. But Anthony thought I shouldn't tell anyone, and it's not difficult to persuade a girl to keep something like that a secret. No one need ever have known, if not for Admiral goddamn Carroll."

  Luke was maddened by the calm way she talked about her treachery, as if the only thing she had done wrong was to get caught. "I can't live with this," he said.

  Her voice went quiet. "What do you mean?"

  "After you've deceived me--and over something so important--how can I ever trust you again?"

  She looked anguished. "You're going to tell me it's over." He said nothing. She went on, "I can tell, I know you too well. I'm right, aren't I?"

  "Yes."

  She began to cry afresh. "You idiot!" she said through the tears. "You don't know anything, do you, despite the war."

  "The war taught me that nothing counts as much as loyalty."

  "Bullshit. You still haven't learned that when humans are under pressure, we're all willing to lie."

  "Even to people we love?"