2

Wanamaker was beside himself with anger. “What do you mean ‘almost but not quite’?” he raged into the phone. He realized he was talking over an open line and lowered his voice to a near whisper, as if that would solve the problem of security. “What kind of an answer is that?” he demanded.

“Our jackass-of-all-trades has let him get away,” the Admiral explained with a calmness that was not human.

There was a moment of silence as Wanamaker digested this. Presently he said, “He’ll recognize the jackass-of-all-trades from when he was your driver on the Farm. He’ll know we know.”

“Not necessarily,” the Admiral said. “Our jackass has changed over the years. In my opinion it’s not likely our friend will remember him. My guess is he’ll take what happened for an ordinary mugging.”

“He’ll go to the police,” Wanamaker warned. “We’ll have to trot out the story about him being off his rocker.”

The Admiral could be heard snickering over the phone line. Wanamaker obviously wasn’t thinking things through logically. “He’d have to explain who he is,” Toothacher said. “He’d have to get into the business of whom he works for. Phone calls would be made. Questions would be asked. Stories would be checked. The whole thing could become very sticky. If I know Sibley, he’ll assume it was a coincidence.”

“What makes you so sure?” Wanamaker asked. He hoped to God the Admiral knew what he was talking about.

“He’ll assume it was a coincidence because he’ll desperately want it to be a coincidence. Anything else would put him out of his league, would affect his digestion, his bowels, his ability to get a nightly ration of sleep.”

“Where do we go from here?” Wanamaker wanted to know.

“If at first we don’t succeed,” the Admiral breathed into the mouthpiece, “what is it we do?”