didn’t know that,” said Spaulding quickly, adding the obvious with a smile. “Naturally.”
Pace was annoyed with himself. The indiscretion was minor but still an indiscretion. “It’s not important. In ten days you’ll be finished in Virginia. The uniform comes off then. To tell you the truth, it was a mistake to issue you one in the first place. We’re still new at this kind of thing; rules of requisition and supply are hard to change.” Pace drank and avoided Spaulding’s eyes.
“I thought I was supposed to be a military attaché at the embassy. One of several.”
“For the record, yes. They’ll build a file on you. But there’s a difference; it’s part of the cover. You’re not partial to uniforms. We don’t think you should wear one. Ever.” Pace put down his glass and looked at David. “Youhustled yourself a very safe, very comfortable job because of the languages, your residences and your family connections. In a nutshell, you ran as fast as you could when you thought there was a chance your pretty neck might be in the real army.”
Spaulding thought for a moment. “That sounds logical. Why does it bother you?”
“Because only one man at the embassy will know the truth. He’ll identify himself.… After a while others may suspect—after a long while. But they won’t know. Not the ambassador, not the staff.… What I’m trying to tell you is, you won’t be very popular.”
David laughed quietly. “I trust you’ll rotate me before I’m lynched.”
Pace’s reply was swift and quiet, almost curt. “Others will be rotated. Not you.”
Spaulding was silent as he responded to the colonel’s look. “I don’t understand.”
“I’m not sure I can be clear about it.” Pace put down his drink on the small cocktail table. “You’ll have to start slowly, with extreme caution. British MI-5 has given us a few names—not many but something to start with. You’ll have to build up your own network, however. People who will maintain contact only with you, no one else. This will entail a great deal of traveling. We think you’ll gravitate to the north country, across the borders into Spain. Basque country … by and large anti-Falangist. We think those areas south of the Pyrenees will become the data and escape routes.… We’re not kidding ourselves: the Maginot won’t hold. France will fall.…”
“
Jesus
,” interrupted David softly. “You’ve done a lot of projecting.”
“That’s almost
all
we do. It’s the reason for Fairfax.”
Spaulding leaned back in the chair, once more revolving his glass. “I understand about the network; in one form or another it’s what the compound’s training all of us for. This is the first I’ve heard about the north of Spain, the Basque areas. I know that country.”
“We could be wrong. It’s only a theory. You might find the water routes … Mediterranean, Málaga, or Biscay, or the Portuguese coast … more feasible. That’s for you to decide. And develop.”
“All right. I understand.… What’s that got to do with rotation?”
Pace smiled. “You haven’t reached your post. Are you angling for a leave already?”
“You brought it up. Sort of abruptly, I think.”
“Yes, I did.” The colonel shifted his position in the small chair. Spaulding was very quick; he locked in on words and used brief time spans to maximize their effectiveness. He would be good in interrogations. Quick, harsh inquiries. In the field. “We’ve decided that you’re to remain in Portugal for the duration. Whatever normal and ‘abnormal’ leaves you take should be spent in the south. There’s a string of colonies along the coast.…”
“Costa del Santiago among them,” interjected Spaulding under his breath. “Retreats for the international rich.”
“That’s right. Develop covers down there. Be seen with your parents. Become a fixture.” Pace smiled again; the smile was hesitant. “I could think of worse duty.”
“You
Dan Bigley, Debra McKinney