The Shadowers Read Free

glanced at Braithwaite. He showed me a smooth young poker face, so I didn’t deem it advisable to start a discussion of the fact that we’d just seen three fairly important people whose faces would be recognized by almost every alert newspaper reader or TV viewer. On the other, hand it didn’t seem likely I’d been shown them by accident. Somebody was trying to impress me with the importance of the forthcoming job, whatever it might be. Braithwaite made reference to his watch again; the boy was a real chronometer fiend.
    “Well, they should be just about ready for you below, sir,” he said, and showed me to the door, or hatch, by which we’d come out. “Watch your head going down the ladder...”
    I couldn’t tell you exactly where aboard the ship the little movie theater was, but it had obviously just seen use as a conference room, judging by the scattered paper, empty glasses, full ashtrays, and the smell of tired tobacco smoke. There were only two people in it now. One was a woman. The first impression she made on me can best be described by saying that after a brief glance to make sure I didn’t recognize her, I looked at the man.
    He was lean and gray-haired, with black eyebrows. He wore a charcoal-gray flannel suit, a neat white shirt, a conservative silk tie, and he may have looked like a well-preserved middle-aged banker or businessman to some people, but he’d never look like that to me. I happened to know he was one of the half-dozen most dangerous and ruthless men in the world.
    I recognized him, all right. I should, having worked for him for well over fifteen years, off and on.
    Mac said, “Thank you, Mr. Braithwaite. Wait next door, if you please.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    Mac watched the young lieutenant (jg) turn smartly and depart. He smiled briefly. “They train them well up there on the Severn, don’t they?”
    I wasn’t particularly interested in Braithwaite’s training, but if Mac wanted to apply the casual touch I’d play along, for a while at least.
    “He’s a good boy,” I said. “He hasn’t allowed himself to be human once, so far. And he drives a sports car like an artist. But he’s going to sir me to death if he isn’t careful.”
    Mac said, “I seem to recall another young officer who had a predilection for that word. He was a pretty good driver, too.”
    “Yes, sir,” I said. “But, sir, I don’t think you’ll have as much luck getting this one to switch services, sir. He likes the Navy, sir.”
    Mac shrugged. “I’ll make a note of his name nevertheless. There may come a time, world conditions being what they are, when personal preferences will again have to be disregarded. Not that you were hard to persuade, if I remember correctly.”
    I said, “I always was a bloodthirsty kid. I don’t think this one’s quite mean enough for you.”
    “Well, we’ll see.” He studied me appraisingly. “You look fit. The rest has done you good.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “I was sorry to hear about the lady’s accident.”
    I looked at him for a moment. He’d never approved of my interest in Gail Hendricks. He’d thought her a spoiled bitch, rich and unreliable, not at all the sort of dedicated, dutiful little girl he preferred to have his men associate with, if they couldn’t be satisfied with professional entertainment. We have, of course, no real private life. All our attachments, amorous and otherwise, are a matter of record in the Washington office.
    I said, “I’m sure you cried all the way to the filing cabinet to pull her card, sir.”
    He didn’t call me down for disrespect. He just said, “Of course you took steps to determine that it was an accident.”
    “Yes, sir. She was upset, for personal reasons we don’t have to go into here. She’d had too much to drink. She was driving much too fast. It was a long, sweeping curve and she swung out toward the edge a little too far and tried to come back. They think all they need are power brakes and power steering to make