Free The Infiltrators by Donald Hamilton Page B

the end of her sentence, or maybe they simply didn’t want a sullen, resentful ex-convict lady around to embarrass them. They laid plans to deal with her permanently upon her release from the penitentiary. My chief decided that somebody—like me—should be there when our Mattie, as we’ll call her, realized the further double-cross to which she was being subjected. When she discovered that her husband, not satisfied with having thrown her to the wolves, so to speak, nine years ago, was now actually conspiring to have her killed, she might well get angry enough to break her self-imposed silence and supply us with valuable information, maybe even some hint, of where to find him.”
    Having already creamed and sugared her coffee liberally, Madeleine was spreading large quantities of red jam over an already generously buttered slice of toast. Well, her figure was really none of my business.
    She spoke without looking up: “But the evil female didn’t react properly?”
    I said evenly, “It turned out that we’d made a mistake, a rather grave error, in fact a real booboo. When the guns started firing, the lady in question obviously hadn’t the slightest idea of who was shooting at her. She showed none of the anger of a woman subjected to a terrible betrayal, none of the shock and disillusionment of a woman learning that the associates she’d counted on to help her rebuild her broken life had turned against her. In fact, she just looked kind of pleasantly excited. It was very disappointing, after all the careful planning we’d done. There we were, stuck with a sadly misjudged and mistreated lady who didn’t know any more than we did about why she was scheduled to be killed. A lady who, it appeared, was probably quite innocent of everything she’d been accused of.” I drew a long breath. “Of course, being careful professionals, we’d allowed for the possibility, remote though it had seemed. There were other ways of utilizing this victimized dame. Scratch Program A. Institute Program B.”
    She was watching me steadily. “So that’s why you were so anxious to keep me talking, yesterday, to confirm—”
    I nodded. “Having already studied your file pretty thoroughly, I wanted to hear your side of the story. Actually I never did really buy the case against you, persuasive though it seemed. As I said yesterday, that Kravecki woman was very unconvincing as a secret courier. And as for the money in a bank box under your name, hell, somebody set up exactly that frame for me once, so I know how easy it is. As far as the rest is concerned, well, damn it, I’ve stayed alive longer than some because I don’t often go too far wrong about people. My chief was going by the evidence, and I had to play along with him up to a point. But I’d met you and he hadn’t. There are lots of crimes you could commit, Madeleine, but spying for the nasty Red Russkies, particularly for money, isn’t among them.”
    The gray eyes were very wide and a little shiny, staring at me out of the prison-pale face. I don’t know what I expected—a little pleasure perhaps, a little gratitude for my faith in her innocence. I didn’t get it. There was a lengthy silence. When she spoke at last, it was in a low, savage, shocking voice.
    “Damn you!” she whispered. “Oh, damn you, damn you, damn you! The one man in the world who believes I didn’t do it, and he comes to me eight years late, after it’s all over, after it’s all been done to me, after my life’s been totally smashed and there’s nothing left to salvage!” She drew a deep shuddering breath. “Where the hell were you when I needed you, Matthew Helm? Where, where, where?”
    She jumped up, snatched up her purse, and ran out of the restaurant. I sat there for a moment rather stunned by the outburst. Then I reminded myself sharply that I had a job to do, and that the big emotional crises were times of distraction when things often happened that shouldn’t have been allowed to