Liars and Tyrants and People Who Turn Blue (5 page)

Gilbert was frowning. “So somebody—or several somebodies, if your conspiracy theory is right—right now somebody is searching the world for defective weaponry.”

“Which brings us to the next point. Just how many mislaid old weapons can there be? The source has to be a limited one—our conspirators don't have an unending supply of rusty rifles to draw upon. What do they do then?”

“Buy new ones.”

“Exactly. What do munitions manufacturers do with their clinkers? Even with modern manufacturing methods there must be an occasional batch of duds. What arms manufacturer would turn down the chance to recover part of his investment?”

“So the conspirators would start contacting munitions manufacturers as their supply of old weapons ran out.” Gilbert mused a moment. “Even if no contact has been made yet, we can warn the manufacturers to be on the lookout for inquiries about their rejects.”

“Quite. See that it's laid on, will you, Gilbert?”

Gilbert translated “laid on” into “arranged” and said, “Right away, sir.”

Sir John's phone rang. He said “Yes?”, listened ten seconds, said “Thank you,” and hung up the phone.

“That was the New York police,” he told Gilbert. “They have Pedro.”

CHAPTER 10

A FAR, FAR BETTER THING

“This Pedro,” Shelby was saying to Eric, “may have been the same man who supplied the Honduran rebels with
their
defective arms. If that's the case, UN Intelligence will take over the investigation.”

“Then you'll be out of it?”

“Almost certainly.”

Eric didn't say
Thank God for that;
it wasn't necessary. Shelby knew what he was thinking.

“Was Tee here today?” Eric asked.

“Yes. Why?”

“She left one of her accouterments behind.” He held up one of Tee's hand grips. “Will she be needing it tonight?”

“No, she has half a dozen of those things. I'll drop it off when I get back.”

Eric was trying out the hand grip. First he tried one hand, then the other. Then he tried both together, until he was grimacing from the effort. “My God, how does she do it? I can't make this thing close even with both hands!”

Shelby laughed. “You'd have to be the strong man in the circus to do that. Tee gets those grips made to order. None of the regular commercial hand grips have coils tight enough to do her any good.”

Eric put down the grip and shook his hands to get rid of the sting. “What time are you leaving tomorrow?”

“About eight. Dr. Wedner said count on two days, so I'll be back around dinnertime Thursday.”

“Are you staying with the Wedners?”

“Yes, as usual.”

“New Brunswick isn't that far. Why not just drive back tomorrow night?”

“The two days include one night session. Either that, or stretch it out to three days.”

Eric nodded, familiar with Dr. Wedner's working habits. Wedner was one of those scientists who just kept going until somebody could make them understand it was time to stop for a while. “What kind of new instrument is it he wants to test?”

“It's supposed to measure my neurological responses to different shades of the same color. Red in my case, of course.”

“I thought they ran that test last year.”

“They tried to, but the testing instrument wasn't up to it. This is a new improved model.”

Eric grunted. “Sounds like something advertised on television. Well, I hope it isn't too tedious for you.”

“I'm used to it by now.” Shelby had been making the short drive down to the Rutgers campus off and on for almost four years so Dr. Wedner and his staff could learn everything they could about her aura-reading ability. She'd read a dozen articles about herself in scientific journals in which she was referred to only as “the subject”—the good doctor's attempt to shield her against undesirable publicity. But Shelby herself had sabotaged that strategy when she began working with the New York police. Then at police conventions and such the NYPD had passed on the word that one Shelby Kent was more accurate than voice stress analysis and polygraph combined—and the rush was on.

Eric wanted to talk to Shelby about something, but he decided to put it off until she got back from New Brunswick. It wouldn't be fair to dump it on her right before she left. Besides, he hadn't quite made up his mind as to the best approach to take with her.

He'd had a nibble about a new job. A man he'd lunched with had oh-so-casually let it be known that the San Diego Chargers would soon be looking for a new Director of Promotion. The man himself was an intermediary, sent to sound Eric out, to learn if he'd be interested in talking about a move. Eric had tried to remain casual as he admitted the possibility might hold some interest for him.

Hold some interest for him! He'd jump at it. Here was the one thing he and Shelby needed the most—a chance to make a fresh start. A chance to get away from the sniggering and the elbowing and the jokes behind his back. A chance to get Shelby away from those sordid criminal types she was spending more and more time with. A chance to live a normal life again.

But Shelby wouldn't give it all up just because he asked her to—he knew better than that. It would be hard enough for her to leave her sister and Dr. Wedner's testing program at Rutgers. But airplanes flew west-to-east too: she could make frequent trips back. Those things could be handled. What might cause trouble was Shelby's plain old-fashioned stubbornness.

If there were only some way to make her understand what her so-called career was doing to him.
Could
a woman understand such things as the sort of shifting allegiances going on in Eric's world? He hadn't told her about that humiliating episode with Buck and Hubbs and the new sports writer. Maybe he should tell her—that might make her see. How he and Buck and Hubbs had been a team handling an outsider who could be of use to them. How her name had come into the conversation—and all of a sudden it was Buck and Hubbs and the writer versus Eric. Suddenly
he
was the outsider. And he didn't like it out there. He was a team player, had always been a team player.

Another thing. Shelby didn't like the west coast very much—in fact, she hated it. This wasn't going to be easy.

But maybe nothing would come of it anyway. Friday Eric had an appointment with a man fairly high up in the Chargers hierarchy; he'd know where he stood a little better after that. If the prospects looked good, he'd tell Shelby about it this weekend. This weekend, yes, that was better.

In the meantime, he still had the Jets to worry about. Eric needed something to hype season-ticket sales. The competition for the entertainment dollar got a little fiercer every year, and people in Eric's profession were reduced to thinking up gimmick after gimmick after gimmick.

Maybe a new mascot?

CHAPTER 11

OUT ON A LIMBO

There was a young man from Japan,

Whose limericks never would scan.

When told this was so,

He replied, “Yes, I know,

But I always try to get as many words into the last line as ever I possibly can.”

New York
Times:

Arrest Made in East

Harlem Arsenal Case

Police yesterday arrested Pedro Yglesias, no address, in connection with the storage of weapons and ammunition in a 114th Street warehouse. Juan Martinez, apprehended by police last week, claims Yglesias hired him to guard the warehouse and provided him with sidearms for that purpose.

Yglesias denies all knowledge of the warehouse and its contents. Almost all of the stored weapons are defective, according to Police Sgt. Luis Delgado.

… but Senator Bromfield says the accusation of improper conduct is politically motivated
.

On the local scene, Pedro Yglesias, the man police say amassed an arsenal of useless weapons in East Harlem, is in a little deeper tonight. Captain J. S. Gulbransen of the freighter
Margarita
bound for Capetown, South Africa
,
says Yglesias tried to bribe him into taking on cargo illegally. Captain Gulbransen has identified Yglesias as the man who approached him about shipping a number of crates without the freight forwarding documentation required by federal and international law. Gulbransen said Yglesias claimed the crates contained Japanese motorcycle parts. Yglesias is still denying any knowledge of the arsenal. Last year Captain Gulbransen was charged with smuggling by the Treasury Department, but those charges were later dropped
.

Elsewhere in the news …

Eric: “Any chance they'll call you in to listen to whatsisname, Yglesias?”

Shelby: “They don't need me. They already know he's lying.”

TWX 24.6/9B UNIA HQ ATTN SIR JOHN DUDLEY BOTH SURVIVING HONDURAN LEADERS POST PHOTO IDENT PEDRO YGLESIAS SUPPLIER DEFEC ARMS RPT FOLLOWS

Sir John: “Only one Pedro after all. And he didn't even bother to use a false name. He was either very sure of himself or very amateurish. Amounts to the same thing in the long run. You were right about Africa, Gilbert—that was the next stop. Now we need to know who gave Pedro Yglesias his orders. He's held out longer than I thought he would.”

Gilbert: “Lean on him a little?”

Sir John: “A little.”

UN Ambassador Implicated

In Defective Arms Plot

NEW YORK (AP)—Pedro Yglesias, alleged entrepreneur of defective weaponry, has told UN Intelligence officers he was acting under the direct orders of Mañuel Aguirrez, head of the Mexican delegation to the United Nations, when he supplied terrorists with arms and ammunition.

According to Yglesias, Ambassador Aguirrez has ordered the illegal shipment of arms three times. Yglesias, a Mexican national, claims he arranged transportation in each case without knowing the weapons' point of origin.

The first shipment was of rifles and ammunition from New York to Honduras. The weapons had been stolen from a U. S. Army supply train in 1943. Yglesias claims Ambassador Aguirrez arranged the purchase of the rifles while Yglesias was responsible for their delivery.

Yglesias also admits shipping defective grenades to Seminole, Alabama, again disclaiming knowledge of their source. Yglesias was trying to arrange shipment of weapons to Capetown, South Africa, when he was arrested.

After admitting complicity in three illegal shipments, Yglesias denied supplying arms to Burmese insurgents last February. UN Intelligence confirms that the Burmese weapons were also defective.

Ambassador Aguirrez could not be reached for comment.

CHAPTER 12

EVERY MAN IN HIS HUMIDOR

Our researchers into Public Opinion are content

That he held the proper opinions for the time of year;

When there was peace, he was for peace; when there was war, he went
.

—W. H. Auden, “The Unknown Citizen”

“He lost his papers,” Kevin Gilbert said. “That's what happened.”

“His papers?” Sir John frowned.

“His shipping papers. Yglesias says Ambassador Aguirrez provided him with shipping papers—probably forged—and he lost the ones for the Harlem weapons. The ones intended for Africa.”

Sir John shook his head in amazement. “So then he goes out and makes that clumsy attempt at bribing the captain?”

“Yes, sir,” said Gilbert, not stating the obvious.

Sir John stated it. “Hardly jibes with my idea of a super-efficient organization at work, does it? I still smell conspiracy, but this Pedro Yglesias … the man's a fool. What did he do—just ask around for the name of a ship's captain with a shady past?”

“That's about it. He said he was afraid to tell Aguirrez he'd lost the papers and ask for new ones. Seems he'd messed up an earlier shipment. To Peru. That one never got off the ground, fortunately for us. So rather than tell Aguirrez he'd goofed again, Yglesias tried to arrange a shipment without the papers. He's obviously an amateur—didn't know the first thing about what he was doing.”

“Did he know why he was doing it? What reason did Aguirrez give him for all this extraordinary shipping of weapons hither and yon?”

“Well, sir, he's not too clear on that. Something to do with fighting tyranny. Aguirrez told him it was all part of a top secret operation and he shouldn't ask too many questions. At least that's what Yglesias
says
Aguirrez told him.”

Sir John looked disgusted. “‘Fighting tyranny'—a suitably vague phrase. You don't suppose the esteemed Mexican ambassador to the UN is in it for the money, do you? Selling worthless weapons for whatever he can get? He's going on television tonight, you know—going to deny the whole thing.”

“Will it do him any good?”

“Probably not. There's talk of a Security Council commission to inquire into the matter. If it goes that far, we're going to have to come up with some hard evidence of Aguirrez's involvement.”

“There are several lines of investigation we can—”

“Good, put it all in your report. I'm taking you off the arms investigation temporarily. There's somebody I want you to check out personally.”

Gilbert nodded, thinking
Ambassador Aguirrez
.

“A woman named Shelby Kent,” Sir John said. “Lives here in New York. Assign someone to run a security check on her. What I want you to investigate is the reliability of a rather unusual talent she has. It seems the lady is a human lie detector. The information I have is that nobody can tell her a lie and get away with it.” Sir John noticed the incredulous look on Gilbert's face and smiled. “She's been working as a police consultant for a couple of years. The New York police officer who caught Pedro Yglesias swears by her.”

Gilbert started to laugh but then cut the laugh off short. “A human lie detector. You mean she's a psychic?”