Free Spy and the Thief by Edward D. Hoch Page B

hands.”
    “Exactly. I assume there are a number of routes for getting it out of the country.” He paused dramatically. “In view of this, I suggest that we contact the people in Washington at once.”
    “There’s so little to go on,” Rand mused. “A crumpled piece of carbon paper. The machine is a matter for the National Security Agency people, and I’d hate to bother NSA with something this nebulous. It could make us look bad.”
    Rand rarely worried about appearances, but the relations between America and Britain had been strained by a spy case earlier in the winter. The Americans had uncovered a Russian spy in the British Embassy in Washington. Would this be viewed as a retaliatory move by British Intelligence to discredit the Americans—especially if nothing came of it?
    “But, sir, we already have a machine in Hong Kong. Our messages, and those of the Americans, could be compromised.”
    Rand had to agree it was true. “Tell you what—I’m due for a trip to Washington next week. I’ll leave a few days early and look into the matter of Mr. Sine—unofficially, of course. You might come along if you can arrange for another trip to the States.”
    Peter Smith smiled. “I haven’t even unpacked, sir.”
    George Sine was as Peter had described him—a bespectacled man with graying hair, whose hands seemed constantly in motion. He smiled as he shook hands with Rand, but one could almost sense the calculations ticking away in his mind. “Very pleased to meet you,” he said. “I trust the Lavender arrived safely.”
    “Yes, it did.” Rand had been in the country only a day, but he had to admit he was enjoying it. New York had been even more opulent than he remembered, and even the ride across New Jersey in a rented car had been pleasant.
    “Is Peter Smith here with you?” asked Sine.
    “He’s checking some matters in Washington.” Rand cleared his throat. It was time to get down to business. “Of course we check quite carefully on the security of our own people, and I know you must do the same over here.”
    “Certainly.”
    “I’m especially interested in security on the machine itself. You shipped ours to us in three small safes?”
    George Sine seemed to relax a bit and nodded. “Correct. One contains the basic mechanism, a second contains rotors for additional key changes, and a third contains key lists. I explained it all to Smith.”
    “And I gather there are tight security measures to prevent a machine from falling into the wrong hands?”
    “Every Lavender Machine manufactured by us must be accounted for. By law we must keep a signed license in our files, and of course there are export documents if it is leaving the country, as in your case.”
    They talked for a time longer and Sine took him on a brief tour of the plant, past assembly lines where dungareed girls operating wire-wrap machines worked on computer circuits, the company’s major product.
    When Rand left the plant after a cafeteria lunch, he was just about convinced that Peter Smith’s misgivings were unfounded. Perhaps Smith had been in the business too long, building a complex fantasy in his own mind from a discarded piece of carbon paper. Perhaps they’d all been in the business too long.
    He was to meet Peter at a neoned motel off the Jersey Turnpike, a garish affair where bored workmen were hanging up tinseled Christmas decorations for the coming holiday. He parked the car and took a room for the night, suddenly aware that he wasn’t yet accustomed to the previous day’s five-hour time change in flying the Atlantic. He’d never been able to sleep on a plane.
    Peter Smith knocked on his door a half hour later. “You dozing? I didn’t expect you back from the plant so soon, sir.”
    “He gave me the tour,” Rand said. “That’s enough to tire anybody. Frankly, Peter, I don’t think there’s much to it. Sine seemed straightforward, and the way he explained it, even a forged signature wouldn’t be enough to