Free A Shroud for Jesso by Peter Rabe Page A

it.”
    “Underwood?”
    Jesso made his voice enthusiastic.
    “Underwood! He mentioned Underwood, Kator. What about Underwood?”
    “It’s a town in Arkansas. The factory in that town goes by the same name.”
    “And?” Jesso felt tense.
    “They make the housing for the warhead there. You see, Jesso, this list gives the production figures from two factories. One for Underwood, the other for the production from a second factory.”
    It came to Jesso like a flash. He squinted once and then he said it.
    “Honeywell! The other factory is Honeywell.”
    Kator was convinced now. Nobody could have told Jesso about Honeywell except the courier, Snell.
    “Yes, the other factory is at Honeywell. They make the trigger mechanism there.”
    The gamble had paid off and Jesso started to breathe again. So Snell did tell him something.
    “Now, Jesso, here lies the riddle. We don’t know whether the Honeywell figures are in the right column or the left. And only the Honeywell figures are important for the moment.” Then Kator leaned across the table. “Now, Jesso, think! Did he say right or left for Honeywell? Did he say right or left for Underwood? Which column, Jesso, which is the column?”
    Jesso held still and looked as if he were thinking. Kator didn’t move either, but there was excitement in his breathing.
    “Jesso, think. It must be one of these columns. I’ve analyzed, I’ve searched—there is no clue. There is nothing to tell the figures apart. One column adds up higher than the other, but that tells nothing. Jesso, which did he say? Right? Did he say left?”
    After a while the stiff muscles around Jesso’s eyes relaxed. His face relaxed and then he smiled, slow and easy. Jesso got up and stretched. When he started to laugh it was like the first laugh he’d ever made.
    Snell’s alma mater? Snell never said Honeywell High School! He never even said Honeywell High! What Snell had said was Honeywell high. The high column was Honeywell!
    When Jesso had poured himself a cup of the cold coffee, he held it up and looked down on Kator’s head.
    “How do you say it, Kator? Is it
Prosit?”
and then he drank the cupful as if it were the most delicious stuff in all the world.
    “He didn’t say right or left, Kator. He had another way of putting it. He said to me, ‘Jackie boy, it’s all in how you figure it, but whichever way, it’s all right there on ye olde onionskin'.” Jesso sat down again and sounded confidential. “And then he said, ‘But don’t tell Kator till you get to Hamburg, because it’ll take you all of nine days to figure out the complicated solution. Jackie,’ he said to me—“
    But Kator wasn’t listening any more. He slammed the paper back into the box, put the box under his arm, and marched out of the cabin.
    It wasn’t until much later in the day that Kator discovered that his Luger was missing. The Luger and a box of shells weren’t in the desk any more.

Chapter Eight
     
    They stayed off the port approach for fourteen hours while the fog kept everything blank gray but brought the harbor noises close. When the fog lifted, rain stayed in the air.
    Jesso leaned across the railing and watched the harbor drift close. A tug was making a lot of noise hauling the ship through the channel. Jesso watched the white water churning. He felt impatient, edgy. The wet air made his cigarette hard to draw on and he tossed it overboard. Fifteen more minutes and they would dock. He rubbed the back of his neck and stretched the muscles so they wouldn’t ache. Jesso hadn’t had much sleep. A sleeping man wasn’t much good, even with a gun in his hand.
    By the time the ship was sidling up to the mooring they were all on deck, ready to leave. There was Kator, his man Bean Pole, and two other guys who stood around in trench coats and berets, like something from the underground. Kator was in black.
    “Jesso,” he called.
    Jesso came over, buttoning the pea jacket they had given him.
    “As we pass