Free Assignment Unicorn by Edward S. Aarons Page B

sound like the Gestapo.”
    “Not at all. A check and counter-check. You are intruding in
a field of security that does not concern you."
    Durell drew a deep breath. “No, sir, what I want from you is
to make certain arrangements in regard to the next transfer of K Section
funds.” He had let Wilderman anger him, and he regretted it. He watched the
green, yellow and red macaw carefully drop a pellet on Wilderman’s left slipper
as the bird stepped over the man’s skinny, outstretched legs. Wilderman’s
posture, slumped again in the chair, made his belly protrude even more than
usual. Durell said, “Sir, We’ve come to know something about these people,
whoever they are. Call them the unicorns, for convenience. We know that they
are informed about our cash transfers and subsidies to various political
figures, such as Colonel Ko in Palingpon, and to the GGI here in Italy,
whom we’ve infiltrated with some good people. The money will have to be
replaced, of course. But most important, the unicorns seem to know of our cash
transfers ahead of time. And they are ready and waiting for us. Hypnotized or
bombed out of their skulls, they’re ready. So we can assume there is a serious leak
somewhere.”
    Wilderman’s gray eyebrows lifted. His baritone voice was
mild. “A leak, Durell?”
    “Somewhere. They’re being tipped off. Or have access to
information about K Section’s operations. Which may mean that even the Internal
Security Bureau has been infiltrated. Or perhaps it’s in Josh
Strawbridge’s Finance Section. I don’t know yet.” Durell paused and looked at Maggie,
who in turn was watching the yellow and blue parakeet pick at strands of
Wilderman’s thick gray hair. He said, “I don’t want to be handled with kid
gloves, or shoved off into another assignment, just when things may break for
us. I don’t think General Dickinson McFee would want that, either. He assigned
me as investigating officer to check into what happened in Palingpon, and
it’s tied in with what happened here in Rome, and what will surely happen again
elsewhere, until it’s stopped.”
    Wilderman kicked the macaw away with a sudden burst of
hostility. The bird set up a great squawking and then waddled away to
investigate the parakeet still on the floor. Wilderman drew his slippered feet under him and again hunched his thin
shoulders forward. His chest was caved in and he looked consumptive.
    “So what do you suggest, Durell?"
    “I think we ought to set one up.”
    “Ah."
    “Arrange a special situation—”
    “A special transfer of funds?”
    “No, sir. We can keep to the regular schedule. If there is a
leak, a change in routine would be suspect.”
    “Have you made your report to McFee yet?”
    “Not yet, but—”
    “Incidentally, do you agree with the present
administration’s political programs and ideology?”
    “It doesn’t matter whether I agree or disagree with temporary
political fashions,” Durell said flatly. “You’re making noises like the
Gestapo again.”
    Wilderman nodded. “Perhaps so, Perhaps this suggestion of
yours about setting up a trap, a distraction, will be useful.” Behind his
spectacles, Enoch Wilderman’s eyes suddenly glittered. He patted his paunchy
belly. There were food stains on his old gray bathrobe. He looked at Maggie,
his glance suddenly bitter, and then his glance swung back to Durell. “We will
discuss it in private. Without the young lady. Later.”
    “Thank you, sir.”
    Maggie curled her lip. She seemed distressed by Durell’s
courtesy to the man. Wilderman nodded his head at them, and the parakeet in his
hair lost its balance and lurched forward, sliding down onto his forehead.
Without warning, Wilderman Slapped at the little bird and smashed it aside,
sending it sailing half across the room. It landed in a fluffy, shattered heap
on the marble floor.
    Durell got up and walked toward it and picked it up. There
was a bead of blood on the broken beak. One wing was bent and