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as others developing from the Quayle inquiry." It sounded to Nim as if

Luther Sloan might be among the "others."

The sudden news, the realization of what it implied, depressed him.

Assuming his guess to be correct, why had Karen's father done it? Probably

for the usual reason, Nim thought: Money. Then it occurred to him that he

could probably guess, too, what the money had been used for.

"Karen," be said, "if this is what I think, it is serious for your father

and I'm not sure there's anything I'll be able to do." He was conscious of

his subordinates in the room, waiting while he talked, trying to appear as

if they were not listening.

"In any event, there's nothing I can do tonight," Nim said into the

telephone. "But in the morning I'll find out what I can, then call you."

Realizing he might have sounded unusually formal, he went on to explain

about the meeting in his office.

Karen was contrite. "Ob, I'm sorry, Nimrod! I shouldn't have bothered you."

"No," be assured her. "You can bother me anytime. And I'll do what I can

tomorrow,"

As the discussion on oil supplies resumed, Nim attempted to concentrate on

what was being said, but several times his thoughts wandered. He asked

himself silently: Was life, which had thrown so many foul balls at Karen,

in the process of delivering still one more?

36o

13

Again and again, sometimes while sleeping, sometimes while awake, a memory

haunted Georgos Winslow Archambault.

It was a memory from a long-ago summer's day in Minnesota, soon after

Georgos' tenth birthday, During school holidays he I-lad gone to stay

with a farming family-he had forgotten exactly why or bow-and a young son

of the house and Georgos had gone ratting in an old barn. Thev killed

several rats cruelly, using rakes with sharp prongs to spear therii, and

then one large rat became cornered. Georgos remembered the creature's

gleaming, beady eyes as the two boys closed in. Then, in desperation, the

rat sprang, leaping, sinking its teeth into the other boy's hand. The boy

screamed. But the rat survived only seconds because Georgos swung his

rake, knocking the creature to the floor, then slammed the prongs through

its body.

For some reason, though, Georgos always remembered that rat's defiant

gesture before its inevitable end.

Now, in his North Castle hideaway, be felt a kinship with the rat.

It was almost eight weeks since Georgos had gone into hiding. In ret-

rospect, the length of time surprised him. He had not expected to survive

so long, especially after the outpouring of publicity, about himself and

Friends of Freedom, which followed the Christopher Columbus Hotel

bombing. Descriptions of Georgos had been widely circulated, and photos

of him, found in the Crocker Street house, appeared in newspapers and on

TV. He knew, from news reports, that a massive manhunt with himself as

the objective bad been mounted in the North Castle district and

elsewhere. Daily since going underground Georgos bad expected to be

discovered, the apartment hideaway surrounded and invaded.

It hadn't happened.

At first, as the hours and days went by, Georgos' principal emotion was

relief. Then, as the days extended into weeks, he began wondering if a

rebirth of Friends of Freedom might be possible. Could be recruit more

followers to replace the dead Wavde, Ute and Felix? Could be obtain

money, locate an outside liaison who would become another Birdsong? Could

they resume, once more, Georgos' war against the hated establishment

enemv?

He had considered the idea, wistfully and dreamily, for several days.

Then, facing the hardness of realitv, he reluctantly abxndoned it.

361

There was no way. No way a revival of Friends of Freedom could happen and

no way, either, that Georgos could survive. The past sevenplus weeks had

been an unexpected brief reprieve, a postponement of the inevitable; that

was all.

Georgos knew he was near the end of the line.

He was being hunted by every law enforcement agency and would continue

to be for as long as he lived. His name and face were known; his

chemically stained hands had been described; it was only a matter of time

before someone, somewhere, recognized him. He was without resources or

help, there was nowhere else to go, and-most critical of all -the money

he bad brought with him to the hideaway was almost gone. Therefore,

capture was unavoidable-unless Georgos chose to an-' ticipate it by

ending his life defiantly, in his own way.

He intended to do exactly that.

Like the rat he remembered from his boyhood, he would make one last

fighting gesture and, if necessary, die as he had lived, doing harm to

the system he hated. Georgos had decided: He would blow up a critical

part of a GSP & L generating station. There was a way it could be done

to cause maximum effect and his plans were taking shape.

They were based on an attack be had intended to make-aided by other

frecdom figliters-before Davey Birdsong's idea of bombing the NEI

convention intervened. Now Georgos was reviving the original plan, though

he would have to execute it alone.

He bad already moved part way toward his objective by a daring risk he

had taken on the same day he went into biding.

The first thing Georgos realized that day, on reviewing his situation,

was the need for transportation. He had to have wheels. He had abandoned

the red "Fire Protection Service" truck because he could not have used

it without being recognized, but a substitute was essential.

To buy a vehicle of any kind was out of the question. For one thing, it

was too risky. For another, he had insufficient money because the bulk

of the Friends of Freedom cash reserve had been in the Crocker Street

house. So the only possibility, Georgos reasoned, was to retrieve his

Volkswagen van, which might, or might not, have been discovered by the

pigs and be under surveillance.

He bad kept the van in a privately owned parking garage not far from

Crocker Street. Aware of the risk he was taking, gambling on being ahead

of the police, Georgos walked to the parking garage the same morning,

using side streets as much as be could.

He arrived without incident, paid the garage owner what was owing, then

drove the van away. No one questioned him, nor was he stopped on his way

back to North Castle. By midmorning the Volkswagen was safely inside the

locked garage adjoining the hideaway apartment.

Emboldened by his success, Georgos ventured out again later, after dark,

to buy groceries and a late edition of the California Examiner.

362

From the newspaper he learned that a reporter named Nancy Molineaux had

provided a description of his Volkswagen van and that police were

searching for it. The next day's paper carried a further report on the

same subject, disclosing that the parking garage had been visited by

police only a half hour after Georgos left.

Knowing that a description of his van had been circulated, Georgos

refrained from using it. Now he would use it only once-for what might be

his final mission.

There were several other reasons why retrieving the VW bad been

important.

One was a secret compartment under the van's floor. In it, carefully

packed in foam rubber to prevent vibration, were a dozen cylindrical

bombs, each containing Tovex water-gel explosive and a timing mechanism.

Also in the van was a small, inflatable rubber dinghy, in a tight pack-

age, just as Georgos bad bought it at a sporting goods store a month or

so earlier, and scuba diving gear, most of it purchased at the same time.

All the items were essential to the daring attack he now proposed.

In the days which followed his recovery of the van, Georgos left the

apartment occasionally, but only after dark and, when he bad to buy food,

was careful never to use the same store twice. He also wore light gloves

to conceal his hands and, in an attempt to change his appearance

slightly, had shaved off his moustache.

The newspaper reports about Friends of Freedom and the hotel bombing were

important to him, not only because he liked to read about himself, but

because they provided clues as to what the police and FBI were doing, The

abandoned "Fire Prevention Service" truck, found in North Castle, was

mentioned several times, but there was also speculation that Georgos had

somehow managed to slip out of the city and was now in the East. One

report claimed he had been seen in Cincinnati. Good! Anything which drew

attention away from where he actually was was welcome and helpful.

On reading the Examiner that first day, he had been surprised to discover

bow much was known about his own activities by the reporter Nancy

Molineaux. Then, as Georgos read on, he realized it was Yvette who had

somehow learned of his plans and had betrayed him. Without that betrayal,

the Battle of the Christopher Columbus Hotel (as lie now thought of it)

would have been a magnificent victory for Friends of Freedom instead of

the inglorious rout it bad become.

Georgos ought to have hated Yvette for that. Somehow, though, either then

or later, be couldn't manage it. Instead, with a weakness of which be was

ashamed, he pitied her and the manner of her death (as described by the

newspaper) on Lonely Hill.

Incredibly, he missed Yvette more than he would have believed possible.

363

Perhaps, Georgos thought, because his own time was running out, be was

becoming maudlin and foolish. If so, he was relieved that none of his

fellow revolutionaries would ever know about it.

Something else the newspapers had done was dig deeply into Georgos'

personal history. An enterprising reporter, who tracked down the record

of Georges' birth in New York City, learned he was the illegitimate son

of a onctime Greek movie goddess and a wealthy American playboy named

Winslow, the grandson of an auto industry pioneer.

Piec~ by piece, it all came out.

The movie goddess hadn't wanted to admit having a child, fearing it would

destroy her youthful image. The playboy hadn't cared about anything

except avoiding entanglements and responsibility.

Georgos was therefore kept well out of sight and, during various stages

of his childhood, assigned to successive sets of foster-parents, none of

whom be liked. The name Archambault came from a branch of his mother's

family.

By the age of nine, Georgos had met his father once, his mother a total

of three times. After that be saw neither. As a child he wanted, with a

fierce determination, to know his parents, but they were equally

determined-for differing, selfish reasons-not to know him.

In retrospect, Georges' mother appeared to have possessed more conscience

than his father. She, at least, sent substantial sums of money to Georgos

through an Athens law firm, money which permitted hirn to attend Yale and

obtain a Ph.D., and later finance Friends of Freedom.

The former movie actress, now far removed from a goddess in appearanec,