If Tommorrow Comes Part 17

"That's lovely," the judge's secretary said, "but I'm afraid His Honor won't be back by then."

"What a pity. We were all so looking forward to hearing one of his famous speeches. Judge Lawrence was the unanimous choice of our selection committee."

"He'll be disappointed to miss it."

"Yes. I'm sure you know what a great honor this is. Some of our country's most prominent judges have been chosen in the past. Wait a minute! I have an idea. Do you suppose the judge might tape a brief acceptance speech for us--- a few words of thanks, perhaps?"

"Well, I--- I really can't say. He has a very busy schedule---"

"There'll be a great deal of national television and newspaper coverage."

There was a silence. Judge Lawrence's secretary knew how much His Honor enjoyed media coverage. In fact, as far as she could see, the tour he was presently on seemed to be mainly for that purpose.

She said, "Perhaps he might find time to record a few words for you. I could ask him."

"Oh, that would be wonderful," Tracy enthused. "It would really make the whole evening."

"Would you like His Honor to address his remarks toward anything specific?"

"Oh, definitely. We'd like him to talk about---" She hesitated. "I'm afraid it's a bit complicated. It would be better if I could explain it to him directly."

There was a momentary silence. The secretary faced a dilemma. She had orders not to reveal her boss's itinerary. On the other hand, it would be just like him to blame her if he missed receiving an award as important as this.

She said, "I'm really not supposed to give out any information, but I'm sure he would want me to make an exception for something as prestigious as this. You can reach him in Moscow, at the Rossia Hotel. He'll be there for the next five days, and after that---"

"Wonderful. I'll get in touch with him right away. Thank you so much."

"Thank you, Miss Dastin."

The cables were addressed to Judge Henry Lawrence, Rossia Hotel, Moscow. The first cable read: NEXT JUDICIARY COUNCIL MEETING CAN NOW BE ARRANGED.

CONFIRM CONVENIENT DATE AS s.p.a.cE MUST BE REQUESTED.

BORIS.

The second cable, which arrived the next day, read: ADVISE PROBLEM TRAVEL PLANS.

YOUR SISTER'S PLANE ARRIVED LATE.

BUT LANDED SAFELY. LOST Pa.s.sPORT AND MONEY.

SHE WILL BE PLACED IN FIRST-CLa.s.s SWISS HOTEL.

WILL SETTLE ACCOUNT LATER.

BORIS.

The last cable read: YOUR SISTER WILL TRY AMERICAN EMBa.s.sY.

TO OBTAIN TEMPORARY Pa.s.sPORT.

NO INFORMATION AVAILABLE YET ON NEW VISA.

SWISS MAKE RUSSIANS SEEM SAINTS.

WILL s.h.i.+P SISTER TO YOU SOONEST.

BORIS.

The NKVD sat back and waited to see if there were any further cables. When no more were forthcoming, they arrested Judge Lawrence.

The interrogation lasted for ten days and nights.

"To whom did you send the information?"

"What information? I don't know what you're talking about."

"We're talking about the plans. Who gave you the plans?"

"What plans?"

"The plans for the Soviet atomic submarine."

"You must be crazy. What do I know about Soviet submarines?"

"That's what we intend to find out. Who were your secret meetings with?"

"What secret meetings? I have no secrets."

"Good. Then you can tell us who Boris is."

"Boris, who?"

"The man who deposited money in your Swiss account."

"What Swiss account?"

They were furious. "You're a stubborn fool," they told him. "We're going to make an example of you and all the other American spies trying to undermine our great motherland."

By the time the American amba.s.sador was permitted to visit him, Judge Henry Lawrence had lost fifteen pounds. He could not remember the last time his captors had allowed him to sleep, and he was a trembling wreck of a man.

"Why are they doing this to me?" the judge croaked. "I'm an American citizen. I'm a judge. For G.o.d's sake, get me out of here!"

"I'm doing everything I can," the amba.s.sador a.s.sured him. He was shocked by Lawrence's appearance. The amba.s.sador had greeted Judge Lawrence and the other members of the Judiciary Committee when they had arrived two weeks earlier. The man the amba.s.sador met then bore no resemblance to the cringing, terrified creature who groveled before him now.

What the h.e.l.l are the Russians up to this time? the amba.s.sador wondered. The judge is no more a spy than I am. Then he thought wryly, I suppose I could have chosen a better example.

The amba.s.sador demanded to see the president of the Politburo, and when the request was refused, he settled for one of the ministers.

"I must make a formal protest," the amba.s.sador angrily declared. "Your country's behavior in the treatment of Judge Henry Lawrence is inexcusable. To call a man of his stature a spy is ridiculous."

"If you're quite finished," the minister said coldly, "you will please take a look at these."

He handed copies of the cables to the amba.s.sador.

The amba.s.sador read them and looked up, bewildered. "What's wrong with them? They're perfectly innocent."

"Really? Perhaps you had better read them again. Decoded." He handed the amba.s.sador another copy of the cables. Every fourth word had been underlined.

NEXT JUDICIARY COUNCIL MEETING CAN NOW BE ARRANGED.

CONFIRM CONVENIENT DATE AS s.p.a.cE MUST BE REQUESTED.

BORIS.

ADVISE PROBLEM TRAVEL PLANS.

YOUR SISTER'S PLANE ARRIVED LATE.

BUT LANDED SAFELY. LOST Pa.s.sPORT AND MONEY.

SHE WILL BE PLACED IN FIRST-CLa.s.s SWISS HOTEL.

WILL SETTLE ACCOUNT LATER.

BORIS.

YOUR SISTER WILL TRY AMERICAN EMBa.s.sY.

TO OBTAIN TEMPORARY Pa.s.sPORT.

NO INFORMATION AVAILABLE YET ON NEW VISA.

SWISS MAKE RUSSIANS SEEM SAINTS.

WILL s.h.i.+P SISTER TO YOU SOONEST.

BORIS.

I'll be a son of a b.i.t.c.h, the amba.s.sador thought.

The press and public were barred from the trial. The prisoper remained stubborn to the last, continuing to deny he was in the Soviet Union on a spying mission. The prosecution promised him leniency if he would divulge who his bosses were, and Judge Lawrence would have given his soul to have been able to do so, but alas, he could not.

The day after the trial there was a brief mention in Pravda that the notorious American spy Judge Henry Lawrence had been convicted of espionage and sentenced to Siberia for fourteen years of hard labor.

The American intelligence community was baffled by the Lawrence case. Rumors buzzed among the CIA, the FBI, the Secret Service, and the Treasury Department.

"He's not one of ours," the CIA said. "He probably belongs to Treasury."

The Treasury Department disclaimed any knowledge of the case. "No, Sir. Lawrence isn't our baby. Probably the f.u.c.king FBI b.u.t.ting into our territory again."

"Never heard of him," the FBI said. "He was probably run by State, or the Defense Intelligence Agency."

The Defense Intelligence Agency, as much in the dark as the others, cannily said, "No comment."

Each agency was sure that Judge Henry Lawrence had been sent abroad by one of the others.

"Well, you've got to admire his guts," the head of the CIA said. "He's tough. He hasn't confessed and he hasn't named names. To tell you the truth, I wish we had a lot more like him."

Things were not going well for Anthony Orsatti, and the capo was unable to figure out why. For the first time in his life, his luck was going bad. It had started with Joe Romano's defection, then Perry Pope, and now the judge was gone, mixed up in some crazy spy deal. They had all been an intrinsic part of Orsatti's machine--- people he had relied on.

Joe Romano had been the linchpin in the Family organization, and Orsatti had not found anyone to take his place. The business was being run sloppily, and complaints were coming in from people who had never dared complain before. The word was out that Tony Orsatti was getting old, that he couldn't keep his men in line, that his organization was coming apart.

The final straw was a telephone call from New Jersey.

"We hear you're in a little trouble back there; Tony. We'd like to help you out."

"I ain't in no trouble," Orsatti bristled. "Sure, I've had a couple a problems lately, but they're all straightened out."

"That's not what we hear, Tony. The word's out that your town's goin' a little wild; there's no one controlling it."

"I'm controlling it."

"Maybe it's too much for you. Could be you're working too hard. Maybe you need a little rest."

"This is my town. No one's takin' it away from me."

"Hey, Tony, who said anything about taking it away from you? We just want to help. The Families back east got together and decided to send a few of our people down there to give you a little hand. There's nothing wrong with that between old friends, is there?"

Anthony Orsatti felt a deep chill go through him. There was only one thing wrong with it: The little hand was going to become a big hand, and it was going to s...o...b..ll.

Ernestine had prepared shrimp gumbo for dinner, and it was simmering on the stove while she and Tracy waited for Al to arrive. The September heat wave had burned itself deeply into everyone's nerves, and when Al finally walked into the small apartment, Ernestine screamed, "Where the h.e.l.l you been? The f.u.c.kin' dinner's burning, and so am I"

But Al's spirits were too euphoric to be affected. "I been busy diggin' the scam, woman. An' wait'll you hear what I got." He turned to Tracy. "The mob's puttin' the arm on Tony Orsatti. The Family from New Jersey's comin' in to take over." His face split into a broad grin. "You got the son of a b.i.t.c.h!" He looked into Tracy's eyes, and his smile died. "Ain't you happy, Tracy?"

What a strange word, Tracy thought. Happy. She had forgotten what it meant. She wondered whether she would ever be happy again, whether she would ever feel any normal emotions again. For so long now, her every waking thought had been to avenge what had been done to her mother and herself. And now that it was almost finished, there was only an emptiness inside her.

The following morning Tracy stopped at a florist. "I want some flowers delivered to Anthony Orsatti. A funeral wreath of white carnations on a stand, with a wide ribbon. I want the ribbon to read: 'REST IN PEACE.' " She wrote out a card. It said, FROM DORIS WHITNEY'S DAUGHTER.