Free Tales of Natural and Unnatural Catastrophes by Patricia Highsmith

he would go, because he was less conspicuous than the head of NCC. Benny now saw Doug’s incarceration as a stupid accident, indicating inefficiency. That was how Washington would see it. It reflected upon Benny and the Nuclear Control Commission.
    Nevertheless, Benny picked up his telephone the first thing Thursday morning, and rang his Washington hotline, thinking himself rather noble for putting his job at risk by doing so.
    “Jackson, NCC. Is Man there?” Matt Schwartz was a man Benny often talked to, a friendly and helpful fellow, though Benny had never met him face to face. Now he was told that Man was in conference in another building and could not be reached. “This is about Operation Balsam . . . Yes . . . Specifically we have to find a certain Frank Marlucci, one of the superintendents for Well-Bilt. We have to speak with him on the phone and we can’t locate him.” Benny’s tone sounded firm, but he had faltered: he had not said straightaway that an NCC man appeared to have been locked up in a container room since Tuesday afternoon.
    “What do you want him for?” asked Washington.
    “I need to ask him something. He wasn’t at work—yesterday.” Benny had not tried this morning, he realized.
    “Call you back,” said Washington, and hung up.
    Washington was back in record time, the same male voice. “Marlucci is no longer employed by Well-Bilt, sir. No use trying to reach him.”
    “They must have his home number. I need to ask him—”
    “We know about that. The trouble.”
    Benny was surprised. “And something’s been done about it?”
    “Yes, sir,” said the voice crisply.
    “This has to do with Douglas Ferguson of NCC. You mean he’s all right?”
    “All right? What’s the matter with him?”
    “Wh-what did you mean by ‘the trouble’ out there?”
    “Marlucci did something wrong and got fired. We don’t advise any of our people to go out there for a while. Till further notice.”
    Those were orders, Benny knew. He had just time to catch Gerry McWhirty at home and tell him not to take the morning plane. McWhirty came into the office at 11. The Well-Bilt numbers were now answering, but Benny had not been able to speak with anyone who could tell him Marlucci’s personal number, or who knew if any container rooms had been opened yesterday or today to look for a man who might have been locked in one. People simply didn’t know anything.
    “This is Jackson of NCC,” Benny repeated to one man.
    “We understand, sir. We can’t help you.”
    Once more Benny and Gerry had a faint hope that Doug might come in on the plane that arrived at 11:30. If so, he didn’t telephone, and they hadn’t the courage to phone his wife and ask if Doug had got home. Evelyn had rung once that morning to ask if NCC had any news, and Benny told his secretary to tell Mrs. Ferguson that they hadn’t heard from Doug either, but were assuming he would be back Saturday latest. Benny knew this was not going down well with Evelyn Ferguson.
    The afternoon brought a further torment. Inhabitants of the Love Canal area had organized a new campaign, and starting after lunch the NCC offices were bombarded with telephone calls and telegrams from homeowners and housewives angry at having been told they had to move out again, after having been told they could move back to their once abandoned homes and apartments. The Committee for Justice at Love Canal tied up the telephones with personal calls and telegrams being read by telegraph office operators—all the messages blaming the NCC for misinformation and lies—until Benny thought he was going mad. A bomb should hit the goddam Love Canal area and their whole effing committee too!
    On Friday Benny was informed by a female voice on his hotline from Washington that Frank Marlucci had been killed in a car accident yesterday afternoon in southern Indiana. Benny knew what had most likely happened: someone had deliberately run Marlucci off the road. Benny felt sickish, then