“Sorry,” he answered, then snapped, “Jones! You and Ito—get the litter. Take him back to the infirmary. Doc, you go along.”
“Certainly.” The man who had given me the shot stepped forward and started to take my arm. I drew away from him.
“Keep your hands off me!”
He stopped. “Get away from me—all of you. Just leave me alone.” The doctor looked at the Old Man, who shrugged, then motioned them all back. Alone, I went to the door, through it, and on out through the outer door into the passageway.
I paused there, looked at my wrists and ankles and decided that I might as well go back to the infirmary. Doris would take care of me, I was sure, and then maybe I could sleep. I felt as if I had gone fifteen rounds and lost every one of them.
“Sam, Sam!”
I looked up; I knew that voice. Mary hurried up and was standing before me, looking at me with great sorrowful eyes. “I’ve been waiting,” she said. “Oh, Sam! What have they done to you?” Her voice was so choked that I could hardly understand her.
“You should know,” I answered, and found I had strength enough left to slap her.
“Bitch,” I added.
The room I had had was still empty, but I did not find Doris. I was aware that I had been followed, probably by the doctor, but I wanted no part of him nor any of them just then; I closed the door. Then I lay face down on the bed and tried to stop thinking or feeling anything.
Presently I heard a gasp, and opened one eye; there was Doris. “What in the world?” she exclaimed and came over to me. I felt her gentle hands on me. “Why, you poor, poor baby!” Then she added, “Just stay there, don’t try to move. I’ll get the doctor.”
“No!”
“But you’ve got to have the doctor.”
“No. I won’t see him. You help me.”
She did not answer. Presently I heard her go out. She came back shortly—I think it was shortly—and started to bathe my wounds. The doctor was not with her.
She was not more than half my size but she lifted me and turned me when she needed to as if I had been the baby she had called me. I was not surprised by it; I knew she could take care of me.
I wanted to scream when she touched my back. But she dressed it quickly and said, “Over easy, now.”
“I’ll stay face down.”
“No,” she denied, “I want you to drink something, that’s a good boy.”
I turned over, with her doing most of the work, and drank what she gave me. After a bit I went to sleep.
I seem to remember being awakened later, seeing the Old Man and cursing him out. The doctor was there too—or it could just as well have been a dream.
Miss Briggs woke me up and Doris brought me breakfast; it was as if I had never been off the sick list. Doris wanted to feed me but I was well able to do it myself. Actually I was not in too bad shape. I was stiff and sore and felt as if I had gone over Niagara Falls in a barrel; there were dressings on both arms and both legs where I had cut myself on the clamps, but no bones were broken. Where I was sick was in my soul.
Don’t misunderstand me. The Old Man could send me into a dangerous spot—and had done so, more than once—and I would not hold it against him. That I had signed up for. But I had not signed up for what he had done to me. He knew what made me tick and he had deliberately used it to force me into something I would never have agreed to, had I not been jockeyed into it. Then after he had gotten me where he wanted me, he had used me unmercifully.
Oh, I’ve slapped men around to make them talk. Sometimes you have to. But this was different. Believe me.
It was the Old Man that really hurt. Mary? After all, what was she? Just another babe. True, I was disgusted with her to the bottom of my soul for letting the Old Man talk her into being used as bait. It was all right for her to use her femaleness as an agent; the Section had to have female operatives; they could do things men could not do. There have always been female spies and the young and pretty ones had always used the same tools.
But she should not have agreed to use them against another agent, inside her own Section—at least, she should not have used them against me.
Not very logical, is it? It was logical to me. Mary shouldn’t have done it.
I was through, I was finished. They could go ahead with Operation Parasite without me; I’d had it. I owned a cabin up in the Adirondacks; I had enough stuff there in deep freeze to carry me for years—well, a year, anyhow. I had plenty of tempus pills and could get more; I would go up there and use them—and the world could save itself, or go to hell, without me.
If anyone came within a hundred yards of me, he would either show a bare back or be burned down.
XI
I had to tell somebody about it and Doris was the goat. It may have been classified information but I did not give a hoot. It turned out that Doris knew all about Operation Parasite; there was no reason to try to keep any part of it secret. The trouble was to make it not a secret—but I am ahead of myself.
Doris was indignant—shucks, she was sore as a boiled owl. She had dressed what they had done to me. Of course, as a nurse, she had dressed a lot worse, but this had been done by our own people. I blurted out how I felt about Mary’s part in it. “You know that old slaughterhouse trick,” I asked her, “where they train one animal to lead the others in? That’s what they got Mary to do to me.”
She had not heard of it, but she understood me. “Do I understand you that you had wanted to marry this girl?”
“Correct. Stupid, ain’t I?”
“All men are, about women—but that’s not the point. It does not make any difference whether she wanted to marry you or not; her knowing that you wanted to marry her makes what she did about eight thousand times worse. She knew what she could do to you. It wasn’t fair.” She stopped massaging me, her eyes snapping. “I’ve never met your redhead, not yet—but if I ever do, I’ll scratch her face!”
I smiled at her. “You’re a good kid, Doris. I believe you would play fair with a man.”
“Oh, I’m no angel, and I’ve pulled some fast ones in my time. But if I did anything halfway like that. I’d have to break every mirror I own. Turn a bit, and I’ll get the other leg.”
Mary showed up. The first I knew about it was hearing Doris say angrily, “You can’t come in.”
Mary’s voice answered, “I’m going in. Try to stop me.”
Doris squealed, “Stay where you are—or I’ll pull that hennaed hair out by the roots!”
There was a short silence, sounds of a scuffle—and the smack! of someone getting slapped, hard. I yelled out, “Hey! What goes on?”
They appeared in the doorway together. Doris was breathing hard and her hair was mussed. Mary managed to look dignified and composed, but there was a bright red patch on her left cheek the size and shape of Doris’s hand. She looked at me and ignored the nurse.
Doris caught her breath and said, “You get out of here. He doesn’t want to see you.”
Mary said, “I’ll hear that from him.”
I looked at them both, then said, “Oh, what the hell—Doris, she’s here; I’ll talk to her. I’ve got some things to tell her, in any case. Thanks for trying.”
Doris waited a moment, then said, “You’re a fool!” and flounced out.
Mary came over to the bed. “Sam,” she said. “Sam.”
“My name isn’t ‘Sam’.”
“I’ve never known your right name.”
I hesitated. It was no time to explain to her that my parents had been silly enough to burden me with ‘Elihu’. I answered, “What of it? ‘Sam’ will do.”
“Sam,” she repeated. “Oh Sam, my dear.”
“I am not your ‘dear’.”
She inclined her head. “Yes, I know that. I don’t know why. Sam, I came here to find out why you hate me. Perhaps I can’t change it, but I must know why.”
I made some sound of disgust. “After what you did, you don’t know why? Mary, you may be a cold fish, b
ut you aren’t stupid. I know; I’ve worked with you.”
She shook her head. “Just backwards, Sam. I’m not cold, but I’m frequently stupid. Look at me, please—I know what they did to you. I know that you let it be done to save me from the same thing. I know that and I’m deeply grateful. But I don’t know why you hate me. You did not have to do it, I did not ask you to do it, and I did not want you to do it.”
I didn’t answer; presently she said, “You don’t believe me?”
I reared up on one elbow. “I believe you. I believe you have yourself convinced that that is how it was. Now I’ll tell you how it was.”
“Do, please.”
“You sat down in that trick chair knowing that I would never let you go through with it. You knew that, whether that devious female mind of yours admitted it to itself or not. The Old Man could not have forced me into that chair, not with a gun, not even with drugs. But you could. You did. You were the one who forced me to go through with something which I would rather have been dead than touched…a thing that now leaves me dirty and spoiled. You did it.”
She had grown steadily whiter as I talked, until her face was almost green against her hair. She caught her breath and said, “You believe that, Sam?”
“What else?”
“Sam, that is not the way it was. I did not know you were going to be in there. I was terribly startled. But there was nothing to do but go through with it; I had promised.”
“‘Promised’,” I repeated. “That covers everything, a schoolgirl promise.”
“Hardly a schoolgirl promise.”
“No matter. And it doesn’t matter whether you are telling the truth or not about knowing that I would be in there—you aren’t, of course, but it doesn’t matter. The point is: you were there and I was there—and you could figure what would happen if you did what you did do.”
“Oh.” She waited a bit, then went on, “That’s the way it looks to you and I can’t dispute the facts.”
“Hardly.”
She stood very still for a long time. I let her. Finally she said, “Sam—once you said something to me about wanting to marry me.”
“I remember something of the sort. That was another day.”
“I didn’t expect you to renew the offer. But there was something else, a sort of corollary. Sam, no matter what you think of me, I want to tell you that I am deeply grateful for what you did for me. Uh, Miss Barkis is willing, Sam—you understand me?”
This time I grinned at her. “A female to the very end! Honest so help me, the workings of the female mind continue to delight and astound me. You always think you can cancel out the score and start over with that one trump play.” I continued to grin at her while she turned red. “It won’t work. Not this time. I won’t inconvenience you by taking up your no-doubt generous offer.”
She continued to blush but she came back at me in a steady, level voice, “I let myself in for that. Nevertheless, it’s true. That—or anything else I can ever do for you.”
My elbow was going to sleep; I sank back and lay down. “Sure, you can do something for me.”
Her face lit up. “What?”
“Go away and quit bothering me. I’m tired.” I turned my face away. I did not hear her leave, but I heard Doris come back in. She was bristling like a fox terrier; they must have passed in the hall. She faced me, fists on her hips, looking cute and adorable and very indignant. “She got around you, didn’t she?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Don’t lie to me. You went soft on her. I know—men always do. The idiots! A woman like that, all she has to do is shake her fanny at a man and he rolls over and plays dead.”
“Well, I didn’t. I gave her what for.”
“You’re sure you did?”
“I did—and sent her packing.”
Doris looked doubtful. “I hope you did. Maybe you did—she wasn’t looking too pert as she came out.” She dismissed the matter. “How do you feel?”
“Pretty good”—it was a lie, net.
“Want some massage?”
“No, just come here and sit on the bed and talk to me. Want a cigarette?”
“Well—as long as the doctor doesn’t catch me.” She perched up on the bed; I struck cigarettes for both of us and stuck hers in her mouth. She took a deep drag, swelling out her chest and pushing her arrogant breasts against her halter almost to the breaking point. I thought again what a sweet dish she was; she was just what I needed to take my mind off Mary.
We talked for a while. Doris gave her views on women—it appeared she disapproved of them on principle, although she was not in the least apologetic about being one herself—on the contrary! “Take women patients,” she said. “One of the reasons I took this job was because we don’t get a woman patient once in a coon’s age. A man patient appreciates what is done for him. A woman just expects it and hollers for more.”
“Would you be that sort of patient?” I asked, just to tease her.
“I hope not. I’m healthy, thank the Lord.” She crushed out her cigarette and jumped off the bed, bouncing a little. “Got to get out of here. Scream if you want anything.”
“Doris—”
“Yes?”
“You got any leave coming up?”
“I plan to take two weeks shortly. Why?”
“I was thinking. I’m going on leave—at least. I’ve got a shack in the Adirondacks. How about it? We could have a nice time and forget this madhouse.”
She dimpled. “You know, that’s mighty white of you, podnuh.” She came over and kissed me full on the mouth, the first time she had done so. “And if I weren’t an old married lady, with a pair of twins in the bargain, I might take you up.”
“Oh.”
“Sorry. But thanks for the compliment. You’ve made my day.”
She started for the door. I called out, “Doris, wait a minute.” When she stopped I added, “I didn’t know. Look, why don’t you take me up on it anyhow? The cabin, I mean—take your old man and the kids up there and give ’em a good time. I’ll give you the combo and the transponder code.”
“You mean that?”
“Of course I do.”
“Well—I’ll talk to you later. Thanks.” She came back and kissed me again and it made me wish she had not been married, or, at least, not working at it. Then she left.
The doctor came in a bit later. While he was fiddling with the futile things doctors do, I said, “That nurse. Miss Marsden—is she married?”
“What business is it of yours?”
“I just wanted to know.”
“You keep your hands off my nurses—or I’ll fit you with mittens. Now stick out your tongue.”
The Old Man put his head in late that afternoon. My immediate response was pleasure; the Old Man’s personality is hard to shake off. Then I remembered and went cold.
“I want to talk to you,” he started in.
“I don’t want to talk to you. Get out.”
He ignored my remarks and came in, dragging his bad leg. “Mind if I sit down?”
“You seem to be doing so.”
He ignored that, too. He wrinkled his face and scowled. “You know, son, you are one of my best boys, but sometimes you are a little hasty.”
“Don’t let that worry you,” I answered, “as soon as the doctor lets me out of here. I’m through.” I had not really decided up until then, but it seemed as necessary as syrup with buckwheat cakes. I no longer trusted the Old Man; the rest was obvious.
He was not hearing anything that he did not choose to hear. “You’re too hasty. You jump to conclusions. Now take this girl Mary—”
“Mary who?”
“You know who I mean; you know her as ‘Mary Cavanaugh’.”
“You take her.”
“You jumped all over her without knowing the score. You’ve got her all upset. Matter of fact, you may have ruined a good agent for me.”
“Hmmph! I’m in tears about it.”
“Listen,
you young snot, you didn’t have any call to be rough on her. You don’t know the facts.”
I did not answer; explanations are a poor defense.
“Oh, I know that you think you do,” he went on. “You think she let herself be used as bait to get you to take part in that job we did. Well, you’ve got it slightly wrong. She was being used as bait, but I was using her. I planned it that way.”
“I know you did.”
“Then why blame her?”
“Because, although you planned it, you couldn’t have carried it out without her active cooperation. It’s mighty big of you, you no-good, heartless bastard, to take all the blame—but you can’t.”
He did not hear my profanity, either. He went on, “You understand everything about it but the key point, which is—the girl didn’t know.”
“Hell’s bells, she was there.”
“So she was. Son, did you ever know me to lie to you?”
“No,” I admitted, “but I don’t think you would hesitate.”
He looked pained but answered, “Maybe I deserve that. I’d lie to one of my own people if the country’s safety depended on it. I haven’t found it necessary up till now because I’ve been choosy about who works for me. But this time the country’s welfare doesn’t depend on it and I’m not lying and you’ll just have to test it for yourself, any way you can figure out, and make up your mind whether or not I’m lying. That girl didn’t know. She didn’t know you were going to be in that room. She didn’t know why you were in there. She didn’t know that there was any question about who was going to sit in that chair. She didn’t have the faintest suspicion that I didn’t mean for her to go through with it, or that I had already decided that you were the only party who would suit me, even if I had to have you tied down and forced—which I would have done, if I hadn’t had a double whammy up my sleeve to trick you into volunteering. Hell’s bells yourself, son; she didn’t even know you were off the sick list.”
I wanted to believe it, so I did my damnedest not to believe it. If it were a lie, it would be just the shape of lie he would tell. As to whether he would bother to lie—well, getting two prime agents back into the groove might be something he would class, just now, as involving the country’s safety. The Old Man had a complex mind.