Simms waved a hand airily. "Your plane leaves in two days. Everything will be taken care of. Good hunting."
Shaw's face tensed. "You were pretty damned sure of me."
Simms' lips spread into a toothy smile. "I was betting on an old warhorse who yearns for one more battle."
It was Shaw's turn to smile. He wasn't going to exit looking insipid.
"Then why the clandestine crap?"
Simms stiffened. His face took on a cornered look. He said nothing.
"The masquerade," snapped Shaw. "This building hasn't been used for years. We could have just as easily met on a park bench."
"It was that obvious?" Simms said in a quiet voice.
"You might as well have posted a sign."
Simms shrugged. "Perhaps I went to extremes, but the Americans have an uncanny way of knowing what goes on in British intelligence circles. Besides, it was necessary to see if you still possessed your powers of perception."
"A test."
"Call it what you will." Simms rose to his feet and walked around the desk. He offered his hand to Shaw. "I am sincerely sorry to have mucked up your schedule. I do not relish depending on someone who is out of his prime, but I am a blind man in a fog and you are my only hope to guide me out."
Ten minutes later, Brigadier Simms and his secretary stood side by side in the lift as it rattled down to the lobby. She was adjusting a rain cap on her head while Simms seemed deep in thought. "He was a strange one," she said.
Sims looked up. "I'm sorry."
"Mr. Shaw. He moves like a cat. Gave me a fright the way he sneaked up behind me when I was expecting him to step out of the lift."
"He came up the stairs?"
"From the ninth floor," she said. "I could tell from the pause in the indicator."
"I rather hoped he'd do that," said Simms. "Makes it comforting to know he hasn't lost his devious touch."
"He seemed a friendly old fellow."
Simms smiled. "That friendly old fellow has killed over twenty men."
"Would have fooled me."
"He'll need to fool a lot of people," Simms muttered. The lift door clanked open. "He has no idea of the massive stakes riding on his shoulders. It may well be we have thrown the poor bastard to the sharks."
An officer in a Royal Navy uniform stepped forward as Brian Shaw cleared airport customs. "Mr. Shaw?"
"Yes, I'm Shaw."
"Lieutenant Burton-Angus, British embassy. Sorry about not seeing you through customs; I was held up in traffic. Welcome to Washington."
As they shook hands, Shaw cast a disapproving eye at the uniform. "A bit open, aren't we?"
"Not at all." Burton-Angus smiled. "If I suddenly showed up at the airport in mufti, someone might think I was playing cloak and dagger. Better to appear routine."
"Which way to the luggage claim?"
"Not necessary. Actually, I'm afraid your stay in the capital city has been cut rather short."
Shaw got the picture. "When does my plane leave and where am I going?"
"You depart for Los Angeles in forty minutes. Here is your ticket and boarding pass."
"Shall we discuss it?"
"Of course." Burton-Angus took Shaw by the arm. "I suggest we talk while mingling with the crowd. Makes it difficult for an eavesdropper, human or electronic."
Shaw nodded in understanding. "Been in the service long?"
"General Simms recruited me six years ago." Burton-Angus steered him to the book section of a gift shop. "You know of my involvement with your job."
"I read the report. You're the chap who discovered the first clue to the treaty from the Senate historian."
"Jack Murphy." Burton-Angus nodded.
"Were you able to get any more information out of him?" Shaw asked.
"General Simms thought it best not to press him. I told Murphy London had no record of the treaty."
"He bought it?"
"He had no reason not to."
"So we write Murphy off and begin somewhere else," said Shaw.
"The reason you're going to Los Angeles," Burton-Angus told him. "Murphy became aware of the treaty when a naval officer, a woman, made an inquiry. He found an old photograph and made her a copy. One of our people burglarized his office and scanned the file on research requests. The only female naval officer whose name appeared was a Lieutenant Commander Heidi Milligan."
"Any chance of reaching her?"
"Commander Milligan is communications officer on board an amphibious landing transport vessel bound for the Indian Ocean. It sailed from San Diego two hours ago."
Shaw stopped. "With Milligan out of reach, where does that leave us?"
"Fortunately, her ship, the U.S. S. Arvada, is under orders to lay over in Los Angeles harbor for three days. Something to do with modifications to the automated steering system."
They walked on. Shaw looked at the lieutenant with a growing respect. "You're very well informed."
"Part of the job." Burton-Angus shrugged modestly. "The Americans have few secrets from the British."
"That's a comforting thought."