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Show Fiction . i BY PATRICIA McGERR lU.utrated by Joe deMers a small storeroom she perched atop a stack of boxes while he filled her in. Its a lucky break, he said, that youre covering this clambake. We need all the help we can get. off-ke-y. What kind of help? could answer that, wed be halfway to the bam. All I can tell you is the problem. Out of these thousands of people, we have to find one man. We dont know his name or what he looks like. Every minute hes at large brings us inches closer to the brink of world war. Whats he done? Its what hes about to do that makes him dangerous. Our job is to stop him. He gave her a fast outline. A nation in Southeast Asia had sent a mission to ask American aid against border raids and guerrilla attacks. At first our officials had leaned toward providing only token assistance. But yesterday that decision had been reversed. Orders had gone to the Mediterranean, the South Pacific, to all the near-b- y points where we have troops and equipment. Tomorrow bombers, fighters and parachutists would converge on the area from all directions. told Selena. Surprise is everything, the been masterminded sure the raids have Were by the Red Chinese, but they deny any connection. They dont want the world to know theyre pulling the puppet strings. If they stay out till our forces are in position, we can dictate a meaningful truce. But if Peking gets advance word that were mounting a masSive demonstration, theyll have to match it. And if they do well, instead of stopping a small war, we may be starting a big one. Bo were deliberately sending only a few aircraft from each base to prevent any leak as to the total number. she But theres already been a leak? If I I . pro-Weste- rn Q-m-an In the seething mass of humanity on the Convention floor, Selena Mead had to find one man and also the best place to hide top-secr- et intelligence arm known as Section Q. Selena had not come to Atlantic City on an intelligence assignment. She was there as part of the magazine job that served as cover for her counterespionage work. So she listened to the speaker and made occasional notes for her article. A tall, bulky man came down the aisle, paused beside her seat. Quibbling, I call it, he remarked, and moved on. He was not, Selena knew, criticizing the oratory. His words, using the standard initial-lettcode, identified him as an agent of Section Q and called her to action. Unostentatiously, she left the auditorium, keeping his broad back in view as he snaked through the crowd and down the ramp. In er surmised. Unless we can bottle it up here, yes. The Reds mission. This mornhad a man on the able to stop his were to him we and on ing caught final message, the one with the figures, from getting through. He hopped a flight to Atlantic City and we had a reception committee waiting when he landed. But he got away? No, he said grimly, we have him. But his figures got away. A man dressed like a maintenance employee was steadying the steps from the plane as our boy came down. Their hands brushed, and that was it. The maintenance man was off the field like a shot and into a waiting car. We tailed it to the Convention Hall entrance. En route hed shed his coveralls and he had the proper credentials to get in here. All we got was a quick look at his back. It was smart planning. I dont know any place in the world where a man could do a better job of getting lost than this sea of humanity. He could be playing any part from delegate to peanut vendor. Foreign correspondent is more likely, she If hes to get his message out, hell suggested. need logical access to cabling facilities. Thats our guess too and were represented in the cable offices. But its odds-o- n that theyve set up a code that will make the message look routine. And dealing with the foreign press puts us in a special bind. You can imagine the cry that will go up if any of them get the idea that were censoring their copy. Not to be- compared with the political repercussions if word gets out that were looking for a aid-seeki- ng sat in the press area in the Convention Selena at Atlantic City and listened to a vigorous extol the merits of his own party, deplore the errors of the opposition. It was the first day of the Democratic National Convention, the beginning of the flood of words that would, by teletype and telephone, wire and cable, radio and television, go out from this arena to the four corners of the earth. Yet the biggest story, the one most vital to the nations security, would never reach the public. It would be known only to the inner circle of the step. And intercepting his message isn't enough. Unless we catch him in the act, hell send it again from some place else. So thats your assignment. Mingle with your fellow journalists till you find one Take him into custody without who sounds letting him know hes under suspicion. Deliver him here or to one' of my men whos circulating around the hall. And do it all in a little less than no time. Selena didnt return to the main auditorium. Nor did she go to the press section on the lower level. Instead she detoured to one of the offices maintained by the Convention Hall management and asked for facts and figures on items stocked by the concessionaires. A secretary quickly produced a sheet of statistics. I suppose, Selena said tentatively, "Im not the first reporter to make this inquiry? Far from it. Until the real news starts readers all over the country will be learning all these - spy at this Convention. The ice gets thinner every Right, he said. statistics. And outside the country? Selena went on. the Is foreign press interested in such trivia? Not so many, but some. There was a man here just a few minutes ago. She turned to the girl Where did he say he typing at the next desk. was from? The typist named a newspaper in the capital of a country in Central Asia. Thats the one, the secretary agreed. The starving masses over there will have a grand time picturing a mountain of hot dogs and a river of coffee. Anything else you want to know? No, Selena said. Youve given me just the information I need. the press section a delegate waved a whose broad band proclaimed his to go all the way with LBJ. Selena reached out and took it from him. Thank you, she said politely. Hey! His protest ended in a laugh. Hurrying into the press room, she removed the hat band and turned it over to write JOHN Q. PUBLIC in large black letters, with the Q slightly larger and blacker than the rest. She pinned the band back in place, put the hat on at a jaunty Outside hat angle. The cable office was only a few steps away. Three men wearing press badges were inside. None looked Asiatic. A slim blonde behind the counter took a quick look at Selenas hat and gave a coded Quiet time now, but wait till the ballotgreeting. ing starts. Do you wish to send a cable?" No, Im looking for someone. The correspondShe named a paper in a different city ent for but the same country as that mentioned by the typist. Perhaps this gentleman can help you. Hes from close by. The blonde moved to stand in front of the most Anglo-Saxo- n appearing of the three men. Thats right, isnt it? She picked up the cable form hed just turned in, read from it the name of the other paper. I can tell you No, no, the man said hastily. I am a substitute for the regular correnothing. who ill. is spondent But how fortunate! Selena hurried to his side. Youll be interested too. A delegation from your country is here to view the Conventioii, see democracy in action. Youll want to interview them, get their impressions. Come, Ill take youv to them. No! I have no time! He turned to the blonde who still held his cable in her hand. You understand my instructions. This wire must go off |
