Hellstrom's Hive

Peruge caught a late flight out of Dulles and was forced to accept coach, compounding his annoyance over the conference with Merrivale. The Chief had insisted on that meeting, however, and Peruge had seen no good way to avoid it. He had driven over to Operations after preparing the way with a call, and they’d met in Merrivale’s office. The gloves had been off right from the beginning.

Merrivale had glanced up at the intrusion without change of expression as Peruge strode into the office. There was a pinched, frightened took around Merrivale’s eyes, and Peruge thought: He knows he’s been nominated for patsy.

Peruge seated himself across from Merrivale in one of the hokey leather chairs and indicated a folder on the desk. “You’re reviewing the reports, I see. Any holes in them?”

Obviously, Merrivale thought this put him at a disadvantage because he immediately tried to recapture control of the situation. “My reports are precisely fitted to the circumstances for which they were made.”

The pompous bastard!

Peruge was well aware that his presence annoyed Merrivale. It always did. Peruge was such a damned big man. They all said he’d be gross if he ever let himself go to fat. But he possessed a softly sinister grace that never failed to irritate Merrivale.

“The Chief wanted me to ask you why you seconded that little shrimp Janvert,” Peruge said.

“Because he’s long overdue for responsibility.”

“He’s not trustworthy.”

“Nonsense!”

“Why didn’t you delay and let me appoint my own second?”

“No sense in delay. The briefing had to proceed.”

“So you rushed into another mistake,” Peruge said. His voice conveyed a sense of calm, superior knowledge. That mention of the Chief had been telling.

Merrivale could feel his own chances of ever reaching a higher status in the Agency dwindling away to zero. His face darkened.

“Why are you going out to Oregon yourself?”

“It’s indicated by the circumstances,” Peruge said.

“What circumstances?”

“Three of our best people lost.”

Merrivale nodded. “You spoke of something important to discuss with me. What is it?”

“Several things. First, that memo you circulated indicating that we were unsure of our next step in this case. The Chief was rather upset by that.”

Merrivale actually paled. “We—the circumstances—”

Peruge interrupted as though he hadn’t heard Merrivale. “Second, we are concerned about the instructions you gave those three agents. It seems strange to us that—”

“I followed my bloody orders to the letter!” Merrivale said, slamming a hand onto the folder.

The story of his life, Peruge thought. He said, “There are rumors that Tymiena didn’t like this assignment.”

Merrivale sniffed, managed to look unimpressed. “They always object and then talk about it behind my back. What good are rumors?”

“I got enough hints to convince me she may have had a valid objection to the way things were being handled. Did she talk about specific objections?”

“We talked, yes. She thought we should go in openly after Porter, a more official approach.”

“Why?”

“It was just a feeling she had, nothing more.” Merrivale made feeling sound like a peculiar female foible.

“Just a feeling, nothing specific?”

“That’s all it was.”

“That feeling appears to have been accurate. You should have listened to her.”

“She was always having those crazy feelings,” Merrivale objected. “She didn’t like working with Carlos, for one thing.”

“So she did have specific objections. Why did she object to Carlos?”

“I’m only guessing, but I presume he’d made offensive advances to her at some time. At any rate, it wasn’t the kind of quibble we tolerate in the Agency. They know the work they’re called on to do and what it may entail.”

Peruge just stared at him.

Merrivale’s face was an open page, his thoughts written across it for anyone to read: They’re blaming me for these losses. Why are they blaming me? I only did what they told me to do.

Before Merrivale could begin giving voice to these thoughts, Peruge said, “There is pressure from farther up the line and we’re going to have some explaining to do. Your part in this comes in for particular questioning.”

Merrivale could get the whole picture now: pressure from higher up and someone was being prepared as sacrificial goat. That goat was named Joseph Merrivale. The fact that he had protected himself this way on many occasions would not ease the pain of finding himself today’s target.

“This is not fair,” Merrivale husked. “It is simply not fair.”

“I’d like you to recount as much as you remember of your last conversation with Tymiena,” Peruge said. “Everything.”

Merrivale took a moment to regain his composure. “Everything?”

“Everything.”

“Very well.” Merrivale had a neatly organized mind which could reproduce most conversations from memory. He was hampered this time, however, by the necessity of screening every scrap through a self-protective analysis. Unconsciously, he lost his fake British accent as he proceeded. Peruge found this amusing.

Presently, Peruge interrupted, “So she went looking for Carlos.”

“Yes. Carlos was in Archives, I believe.” Merrivale wiped perspiration from his forehead.

“It’s too bad we don’t have her here to question,” Peruge said.

“I’ve told you everything!” Merrivale protested.

“Oh, I believe you,” Peruge said. He shook his head. “But—still there was something. She’d read the reports and—” He shrugged.

“Agents do die in the line of duty,” Merrivale argued.

“Of course, of course,” Peruge said. “It’s perfectly ordinary.”

Merrivale scowled, obviously thinking the facts were being twisted to damn him.

“Carlos had no similar objections?” Peruge asked.

“None whatsoever.”

Peruge pursed his lips in thought. Damnable business! So the little clerk had finally bought it. His legendary caution had failed him at last. Unless that caution had somehow pulled him through. Carlos might still be alive. Somehow, Peruge did not give much weight to that possibility. The first pawn had been taken, then the second and the third. Now, it was time for a more powerful piece. He said, “Did Carlos and Tymiena quarrel about this job?”

“Perhaps.”

“What does that mean?”

“They were always snapping at each other. Who noticed after a while?”

“And we don’t have them here to ask,” Peruge mused.

“I don’t need reminders of that.”

“Do you recall what Carlos said when you last saw him?”

“Certainly; he told me he’d report within forty-eight hours of his arrival on the scene.”

“That long? Did they have radio?”

“There was one in the van they picked up in Portland.”

“And no reports from them after that?”

“They called in to check the equipment. That was from Klamath Falls. Portland relayed.”

“Forty-eight hours,” Peruge muttered. “Why?”

“He wanted time to get set up on the scene, to reconnoiter the area, choose his observation site.”

“Yes, but—”

“That was not an unreasonable delay.”

“But Carlos was always so cautious.”

“This speaks of caution,” Merrivale objected.

“Why didn’t you order him to make more frequent periodic calls?”

“It did not seem indicated.”

Peruge shook his head from side to side. It was diabolic. A pack of amateurs would not have left this many loose ends and blunders behind them. Merrivale would admit no mistakes, though. And the man had those explicit orders to fall back on. Embarrassing. He would have to be shunted aside, though. He’d have to be stored somewhere, ready for the axe to fall. Merrivale was a miserable incompetent. There was no excuse for him. He was just the kind of man they needed right now, someone to point to when the really embarrassing questions were asked.

With angry abruptness, Peruge pushed himself out of the chair, stood glowering down at Merrivale, who appeared thoroughly cowed.

“You’re a fool, Merrivale,” Peruge said in a cold, hard voice. “You’ve always been a fool and always will be. We have a full report from DT on Tymiena’s objections. She wanted a backup team. She wanted frequent radio contact. You specifically told her not to bother Portland-relay unless it was something vital. You told her she was to take her orders from Carlos and not to question them. You ordered her not to mount any official inquiry into Porter. Under no circumstances was she to move out from under her cover. Those were your instructions—” Peruge pointed to the folder on Merrivale’s desk, “and you had read that!”

Merrivale sat in shocked silence at the outburst. For one horrible moment, he appeared about to cry. His eyes glistened with unshed tears. Shocked awareness of that possibility cooled him, though, and he managed to respond with a semblance of his accent intact.

“I say! You don’t leave your opinions in any doubt!”

Later, on the telephone from the airport, Peruge said, “I suppose we ought to be grateful to him. There’s no doubt now of the situation we’re in.”

“What do you mean by that?” the Chief asked, his voice hoarsely disgruntled.

“I mean, we went in not knowing Hellstrom’s situation. Now, we know it. He’s willing to play for high stakes.”

“As though we weren’t.”

“Well, I’ve settled with Merrivale, at any rate. I ordered him to stand by for reassignment.”

“He won’t do anything stupid?”

“Hasn’t he done enough stupid things already?”

“You know what I mean, dammit!”

“I think he’ll obey his orders to the letter,” Peruge said.

“But you upset him badly.” It was a statement, not a question.

“No doubt of it.” This was an unfamiliar tack, and Peruge hesitated, staring thoughtfully at his scrambler cap on the telephone.

“He’s been on the phone to me,” the Chief said. “He complained about you bitterly. Then he said he was putting our written instructions to him in a safe place. He also made a point of telling me he had given Janvert the special Signal Corps number and code letters, as per our instructions for supervising agents. He even quoted the section to me from some set of orders we gave him years ago.”

After a long silence, Peruge said, “We might have to take stronger measures with him.”

“Yes, there’s always that,” the Chief said.