Ride a Pale Horse by Helen MacInnes Read Free Book Online Page A

hair. On his feet, he was five feet five and quick-moving. His eyes, brown and sharp, studied Karen. He said nothing.
    “I’m sorry I’m late. Friday traffic. Also,” she admitted, “I miscalculated—it took ten minutes to ’phone from the airport and make sure I had a bed for tonight and a quiet place to work on my notes this week-end.” Mary Dunstan’s apartment could be a swinging place on Friday nights. Karen rushed on. “I’ll have everything in shape and on Jim Black’s desk by Tuesday.” That would give Jim time to edit and argue with her over a fine point or two; her typescript (with some sentences deleted or added) must be ready for Schleeman’s inspection on Thursday. She would just make that deadline. If she hadn’t opened Vasek’s envelope last night, hadn’t been thoroughly shaken by three sheets of paper that she had read with growing apprehension and dismay, she could have blocked out the Vienna interview on the plane. It would almost write itself.
    Schleeman poured a glass of water, pushed it towards her. “Take it easy.” She was flustered and nervous, talking too much about small details he didn’t need to hear. Not Karen’s usual style. What put her so much on edge? “About Prague—what happened to that interview? You didn’t give the details when you ’phoned from Vienna.” He watched her take a long drink.
    “There were none to give. It just didn’t take place.” Her voice was almost normal again.
    “Why?”
    “I don’t know. I did nothing to antagonise anyone. I was on my best behaviour. Truly.” She drained the glass and put it back on the desk.
    “I believe you,” he said. She relaxed visibly. “We were never meant to have that interview. Why did they want us there?”
    “Us and eight other Western newspapers. All pro-NATO. I don’t know whether we were being softened in our views or whether they wanted to use us.”
    “What about the far-left press?”
    “The Eastern bloc was in our hotel, but it seemed to be avoiding us. There were several of the anti-American Germans— Der Spiegel, Stern, Rundschau among them—staying at another hotel. They sought us out at the meetings, lectured us. Germans do that a lot, I think. But why they, of all people, should believe the Soviets are blameless and we are responsible for everything that’s wrong in the world—that really is a bitter laugh. Don’t worry: I restrained myself. I didn’t even say, ‘So helping you recover from a war you started, was that wrong? Or the Berlin airlift?’ I just kept telling myself that most Germans don’t think like their newspapers. Not yet, at least. But how long can you read papers and magazines and listen to broadcasts without having the anti-American bias affect you? I think that’s what bothered me the most about that week: the power of the press and what it can do to ordinary citizens.”
    She has recovered, Schleeman thought; that’s more like the Karen I know. “Now you see why I’ve always warned all of you working here to keep your political opinions out of your writing. Sounded dull advice, but let the readers make up their own minds about events as they are reported fully and honestly.” Time to probe a little deeper, he decided. “You had quite an education in Prague, I think. What about Vienna?”
    “Good. I hope you’ll like my piece.”
    Was that all she had to say? “We’ll run it in the space we held open for the Prague interview. What about your week there? You gathered some material, didn’t you?”
    “I’ll describe it as it was.” She gave her first smile as she added, “No cover-ups, but no slanting, either.” It was a direct quotation from him, presiding at the last staff meeting. “I’ll get a column out of it, at least.”
    “More than that goddamned monkey at their embassy deserves.” Suddenly, his usually quiet voice rose. He cursed himself for being fooled, he cursed the press aide. Then his anger subsided. He noticed Karen’s startled