woman who stands me on end. I have never in my life been so moved. And I have never met someone who is so intelligent, and kind and courageous, weak when she should be weak, and strong when she should be strong.”
“Will it be long?”
“As long as I can make it.”
“Well, make it quick,” said Smith. “I don’t suppose you could be here in a half-hour?”
“Something important?”
“I think we might be in danger. Nothing firm yet. Something I want to talk to you about.”
“I’ll be right over.”
“What about your woman?”
“I’ll return her to the bar I met her in twenty minutes ago,” said McCleary.
There was a scream of indignation on the other end, but McCleary was at the “shop” within twenty minutes.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Grove Industries,” said Smith.
“I got what you wanted right on those little floppy disks you had designed so that they could pass through security and not be destroyed.”
“I didn’t design them. The CIA designed them. Con, how many penetrations have you done?”
“For work?”
“Yes, work,” said Smith, realizing he should have let McCleary finish what he was doing with the woman. It would be on his mind all day.
“A hundred. A hundred and twenty. It’s not really something difficult with all the really valid identification you can get for me.”
“And how many did you have to flee from because they saw through what was going on?”
“Two,” said McCleary.
“And how many were able to mount a search for you right within the United States government itself?”
“None,” said McCleary.
“One,” said Smith.
“Grove?”
“Yes.”
“Well, that only shows how well protected they are from spies. We should like that in a defense industry.”
“Except when they seem to defend themselves too well. They got to the CIA, McCleary. That’s closer to you than anyone has gotten before.”
“Anyone remember me?”
“No, you were a small Far East branch. I made sure all of those who knew you by face, sound and walk stayed in the Far East.”
“Those were the only friends I had.”
“Those were your drinking buddies. You didn’t have any friends,” said Smith.
“I know,” said McCleary. “But when it comes to these things, you should be allowing a man to lie to himself.”
Smith understood the loneliness of it very well. This man, who would have preferred to spend a life pleasantly over a beer in a bar, chose instead to defend his country. McCleary, unlike Smith, was the sort who did need friends. He just didn’t happen to have accumulated any since high school.
“I’m worried,” said Smith.
He wore his three-piece gray suit and sat on a stiff-backed chair before a computer terminal. McCleary wore an open shirt showing a gold chain on a hairy chest, and loose gray pants. He lounged against a computer storage unit.
“You think they are going to come after us?” asked McCleary.
“I think we might be needing the new man sooner than we expected. With Grove we sent in General Accounting. We sent in Army comptrollers. We even isolated a major in the Pentagon and fed her enough information to get her on the case. But nothing has worked so far. The only one able to get into Grove Industries’ books is Grove Industries. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“What about me? I got in.”
“You were our last resort. And now they may be coming after us. What is the situation with Remo?”
McCleary shook his head. “I don’t know. I think there might be some trouble there.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. That’s what’s wrong. Every day until two days ago, I heard one complaint per twenty-four-hour period from Chiun about Remo. Every day. Now nothing.”
“Which means?”
“I don’t know. Maybe the training was too hard. This isn’t karate Remo is getting. It’s not a martial art. It’s Sinanju. These bastards run across thirty-story buildings. These assassins have survived three thousand
“Will it be long?”
“As long as I can make it.”
“Well, make it quick,” said Smith. “I don’t suppose you could be here in a half-hour?”
“Something important?”
“I think we might be in danger. Nothing firm yet. Something I want to talk to you about.”
“I’ll be right over.”
“What about your woman?”
“I’ll return her to the bar I met her in twenty minutes ago,” said McCleary.
There was a scream of indignation on the other end, but McCleary was at the “shop” within twenty minutes.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Grove Industries,” said Smith.
“I got what you wanted right on those little floppy disks you had designed so that they could pass through security and not be destroyed.”
“I didn’t design them. The CIA designed them. Con, how many penetrations have you done?”
“For work?”
“Yes, work,” said Smith, realizing he should have let McCleary finish what he was doing with the woman. It would be on his mind all day.
“A hundred. A hundred and twenty. It’s not really something difficult with all the really valid identification you can get for me.”
“And how many did you have to flee from because they saw through what was going on?”
“Two,” said McCleary.
“And how many were able to mount a search for you right within the United States government itself?”
“None,” said McCleary.
“One,” said Smith.
“Grove?”
“Yes.”
“Well, that only shows how well protected they are from spies. We should like that in a defense industry.”
“Except when they seem to defend themselves too well. They got to the CIA, McCleary. That’s closer to you than anyone has gotten before.”
“Anyone remember me?”
“No, you were a small Far East branch. I made sure all of those who knew you by face, sound and walk stayed in the Far East.”
“Those were the only friends I had.”
“Those were your drinking buddies. You didn’t have any friends,” said Smith.
“I know,” said McCleary. “But when it comes to these things, you should be allowing a man to lie to himself.”
Smith understood the loneliness of it very well. This man, who would have preferred to spend a life pleasantly over a beer in a bar, chose instead to defend his country. McCleary, unlike Smith, was the sort who did need friends. He just didn’t happen to have accumulated any since high school.
“I’m worried,” said Smith.
He wore his three-piece gray suit and sat on a stiff-backed chair before a computer terminal. McCleary wore an open shirt showing a gold chain on a hairy chest, and loose gray pants. He lounged against a computer storage unit.
“You think they are going to come after us?” asked McCleary.
“I think we might be needing the new man sooner than we expected. With Grove we sent in General Accounting. We sent in Army comptrollers. We even isolated a major in the Pentagon and fed her enough information to get her on the case. But nothing has worked so far. The only one able to get into Grove Industries’ books is Grove Industries. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“What about me? I got in.”
“You were our last resort. And now they may be coming after us. What is the situation with Remo?”
McCleary shook his head. “I don’t know. I think there might be some trouble there.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. That’s what’s wrong. Every day until two days ago, I heard one complaint per twenty-four-hour period from Chiun about Remo. Every day. Now nothing.”
“Which means?”
“I don’t know. Maybe the training was too hard. This isn’t karate Remo is getting. It’s not a martial art. It’s Sinanju. These bastards run across thirty-story buildings. These assassins have survived three thousand
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