The Kremlin File

Under Fleming’s efficient, swift command an organized cleanup was begun. Noah’s tribe went home. General Hammond’s family invited Fleming to occupy the Palace with them until the airfield could be cleared to receive traffic, when they would leave the island. Mitzy sent a runner with a note. Would I ask Davey Hawk to tell Miami where she was and that she’d sit on the nest egg until she had orders.

“Tara Sawyer was given a funeral with all the stops out,” she wrote. “She lies on a slab down in the catacombs.”

I stayed a week to give Fleming what hand I could and be sure the calm would last. He didn’t need my help. It was a vacation. Without a girl to my name.

When I got back to Washington, Sawyer was in the office, raising hell with Hawk about his daughter’s death, demanding to bury her at home. I hadn’t briefed the old man by phone about Tara. Now Hawk let me handle the problem. I tried to ease Sawyer’s pain by building up his daughter’s part in saving Fleming’s life, praising her, repeating the full gratitude of the natives. Sawyer gradually quited down, some of the sorrow turning to pride.

I didn’t say anything about Mitzy. Why start a war between him and the Mafia? Besides, if the girl could cream something off the top, I thought she had a right to keep it. Thomas Sawyer could finance the rebuilding out of profits from his entire chain, and maybe Mitzy could retire from the Brotherhood.

I told both of them about Noah. Hawk gave me a fish stare but Sawyer was delighted at the old man’s exploits.

The rest of it I held until after Sawyer left. When Hawk and I were alone, I set the jar holding Jerome’s fingers on the desk. Then with some ceremony I spread Mitzy Gardner’s note in front of my boss. He glanced at it, then up to meet my eyes. There wasn’t a quiver of muscle, not a tinge of color change in the parchment face.

“Well.” It was his business voice. “I’m waiting for your report.”

I began with the little things. The stewardess; I was sure Jerome had her murdered, but we’d have to check it out. The jail Fleming had to fix up. The dungeons he planned to turn into laboratories for the university. Then I gave Hawk the rundown on Noah with a straight face, chronologically.

“He had two hours’ warning,” I said to Hawk. “Plenty of time to show how aloof he was from fear and to put on a one-hour performance. What bothers me is how the rest of the island got caught so they didn’t get their ships and planes out of danger.

“Could I use your phone?”

He gave permission. I called the weather bureau and got through to a friend there, identified myself and said, “Jim, what time of day did you get the alert on last week’s hurricane?”

There was some swearing. “Damn it, Nick, too bloody late to do any good. The satellite didn’t pick it up until it was over Grand La Clare lashing its tail. By the time we got a warning out, it was half over. I never knew anything to come up that fast. Even Noah didn’t call us.”

Something cold started working up my spine. “Do you know about Noah?”

“He’s our spotter there. N.O.A.H., his call letters. He’s good. Usually picks weather out of the air as fast as we do. Why? You sound funny.”

“Uh-uh. Thanks.”

I hung up. Hawk hung up the extension.

Hawk sounded hollow. “If he’d reported in, a lot of damage could have been prevented. A lot of lives saved.”

“And an island lost to ‘big brother’.”

I went out of the office softly, closed the door softly. The weather satellite takes constant pictures on one huge hunk of ocean at a time. It didn’t see that freak storm until it walloped ashore.

I fit a cigarette and tried to kiss the whole thing off. Threw the cigarette away. The hell with it.