Assignment to Disaster Read Free

Two heads? Green hair?"
    "You people did enough to Calvin," she said bitterly.
    "What?"
    "Last year. The Committee. Alleging he was disloyal. It was a terrible ordeal for Calvin. I began hating you then."
    "He's that Calvin Padgett?"
    "Yes.
That
one."
    Damn Swayney, the pursy-mouthed fool. The idiot. Waking him from a sound sleep, no briefing at all. He remembered about Calvin Padgett, and he was surprised to remember Padgett with sympathy. A nice-looking guy, one you warmed to instinctively, the kind you made friends with easily and liked and bought drinks for. Brilliant. Defiant. Denying any membership in the organizations that had his name down there on their rolls in black and white as a member. He was cleared. Judged loyal. A mistake had been made somewhere, but nobody was sure just what. Now he had disappeared. A royal mistake. Gone with some damned secret that could rip the world apart, to judge by the quiet, convulsive, desperate efforts being made to find him before it was too late. He looked at the girl with less warmth.
    "So you think your brother was hounded, mistreated, abused?"
    "I do."
    "He was given his job back, in a highly ticklish, sensitive position."
    "Only because the work couldn't have gone on without him!"
    "And you feel persecuted by us, too?"
    "I don't want to talk about it," she said.
    He was angry now. He thought of telling her what it could mean, putting personal pride, spite, petty hatred over the safety of the country. Hell, she would say he was waving the flag. Well, he was willing to wave it. He wanted to keep it waving. But surely she knew all that. There was an innocence in her that he could sense even through his anger. There was something else that kept her mouth shut. He looked for the fear in her eyes. It was still there. She glanced away from him.
    "Don't," she murmured.
    "It's important. Tell me where he is."
    "I can't tell you."
    "You can't — or you won't?"
    She gave no answer.
    "Did somebody warn you to keep quiet? Those men in the car, for instance?"
    She shook her head.
    "You still don't know who they are or what they want with you?"
    "No, no, no."
    He sighed.
    The telephone rang. Burritt Swayney.
    "Anything, Sam?"
    "Not yet"
    "What in hell?"
    "Yeah," Durell said.
    "She there with you now?"
    "Yes."
    "No talkee?"
    "No washee."
    "There's nothing on the punk Callahan ventilated between the ears. Absolutely nothing. We're working in high gear. FBI files checked negative. No identification on the body. Funny, hey?"
    "I'm laughing," Durell said.
    "And Kelly and French lost the black sedan."
    "I expected that."
    "Sam, you've got to find that man."
    "Make a song out of it," Durell said, and hung up.
    It was full daylight outside, suddenly. When he looked at Deirdre Padgett, he saw lhal she was crying silently, the tears sliding wet down her cheeks.

Chapter Four
    When Durell left the apartment, a new crew took over the watch on the girl. Lew Osbourn was in charge, a gangling, pipe-smoking man with thinning hair and warm, friendly eyes. In Cologne, Lew had once saved Durell's life from a fanatic sniper perched in the skeletal ruins of the town. Lew had a wife, Sidonie, a French girl he had brought home from the wars. And now he had two children, twin girls. They lived in a new development out near Alexandria.
    In the lobby of the apartment house, Lew sent his men to various points of vantage and personally took the front hallway himself. He winked at Durell.
    "Go on over to the house and Sid will make you breakfast. You look beat, you stupid Cajun."
    Durell grinned. "Brioches and hot chocolate?"
    "Hell, no. I'm teaching Sid how to cook American style. Buttermilk pancakes and black coffee. I hear the babe upstairs is quite something."
    "Look out for rough stuff, Lew. Can I take a rain check?"
    "The twins miss you. Especially the candy you bring."
    Durell grinned again. "You're a lucky dog."
    "Hell, who's stopping you from the same?"
    "Maybe if Sid had a sister," Durell said. "See you,