Run, Spy, Run

"Hands, Hawk? I understand the man's disabled. I can't just not be there. The whole disarmament plan will fall through by default. Find Harcourt and find Judas. I don't like to issue ultimatums, but you have until tomorrow afternoon. I hope your man can do the job."

"If anyone can, he can. He's an extraordinary agent."

"I know that. I hope our Mr. Judas finds out, too. Let me know tomorrow, Hawk."

He was dismissed.

Twenty-four hours, at best.

Hawk went back to the Georgetown brownstone that served as his Washington headquarters and drafted a cable to Max P. Cane. All it said was: PILATE WANTS HARCOURT FOUND JUDAS CRUCIFIED 2400 FAILURE MEANS PILATE CRUCIFIES SELF WEDNESDAY ACT IMMEDIATELY.

Harcourt to Judas to Cane

It was a restless Tuesday. Late in the afternoon Nick picked up the cable from Hawk at the Strand branch office. Twenty-four hours to go. Less, by now. PILATE CRUCIFIES SELF! Unthinkable!

He and Julia waited in their rooms at the Rand. And had heard nothing.

Nick called the Consulate to remind them where he was and that he was expecting a message from the States. Sorry, no message. Of course there wouldn't be.

The call came after the sun had gone down and lights were trimming the streets.

"We will not spar, Mr. Cane," said the metallic voice. It sounded even thinner, less real than before. "This is J. I have H. If you wish to see him alive, you will listen carefully."

"J. for Judas, this is C. for Cane. So you have H. for Harcourt." Nick took an almost childish pleasure in repeating the names. He waved to Julie and she picked up the extension phone. "Go ahead, Judas."

The voice sounded pained. "There is no need to broadcast all these names. If anyone is listening…"

Nick cut him short. "I'm listening. What do you have to say?"

"Do you know Piccadilly?"

"Yes."

"Good. At nine this evening, you and the lady will be standing on the northeast corner of the square. My car will pick you up."

"Indeed it won't," said Nick. "No more gas rides, thank you."

Judas chuckled without humor. "Open touring car this time, Cane. No tricks."

"Just give me the address. We'll get there by ourselves."

"You don't care to see Harcourt, then?" The voice was almost a whistle.

"Oh, I wouldn't mind seeing Harcourt," said Nick, "but naturally, I'd like to hear him first."

"You can't," the voice said flatly.

'Too bad," said Nick, and put down the phone.

It rang again.

"Mr. Cane."

"Yes?"

"If you hear Lyle Harcourt's voice, will you come to a meeting tonight?"

"Perhaps."

"I think you'd better, Mr. Cane. I have a most extraordinary proposition for you. One that will benefit all parties. I'm sure you will be interested. Suppose I send the car…"

"Suppose you let me talk to Harcourt. And don't tell me I can't. No talk, no meeting. Understand?"

The line went dead again.

This time the phone did not ring again immediately.

When it did the quality of Judas' voice had changed, as if he were speaking from a different room.

"Cane?"

"Yes."

"Mr. Harcourt wants to speak to you."

The second voice was anguished. It sounded far away. It was Harcourt's and it said: "Don't listen to him, Cane. Whatever he wants of you, don't listen to him."

There was a creaking chuckle and Judas was back.

"You see, Cane? Mr. Harcourt is not only alive but full of spirit. Now let's stop this fencing. You will get here as I say or not at ail. Nine o'clock, northeastern corner, Piccadilly. The driver has instructions to deliver you unharmed. I guarantee that. It suits me, this time, to be sure that you're alive. Understood?"

"Check."

"One more thing. One false note, one ruse from you, one phone call even — and Harcourt dies before you even enter the car. And if this call is being tapped or traced, you run a very grave risk of ruining everything. You've been warned." The phone clicked off.

Julie's eyes shone with excitement. "We've hooked him!"

"Or he's hooked us. I'm glad I decided not to have a wiretap. We'd never have gotten past Piccadilly. What did you think about Harcourt's voice — was that him?" His own expression was noncommittal.

She nodded decisively. "That was Harcourt, all right. I'm sure of it. Aren't you?"

"Yes, I am. I just wanted to get your unbiased verdict… Come on, sit down. I don't suppose I'd trigger off a bomb if I called down to Room Service, do you?"

Ice, Scotch and mixer appeared shortly.

"You don't look terribly pleased," Julie observed.

"I'm not terribly pleased. As you yourself said earlier, we're hardly likely to get a bargain. Judas isn't risking anything. He knows we'll do anything to save Harcourt, even walk into his death trap without cover."

"I'm sure there must be a way to get a message to the Police or to Security," said Julie, "short of using the phone. The waiter, elevator operator, someone like that. Surely the Security people could follow us without being obvious…"

Nick shook his head firmly. "Too risky. I believe him — one slip, and Harcourt's dead. We play this alone."

Julie was silent, but she nodded faintly.