The Kremlin Letter by Noel; Behn Read Free Book Online

confusion than displeasure.
    â€œHe’ll do,” Ward said firmly.
    â€œI hope you’re right,” the Highwayman answered without dropping his gaze from Rone. “Size could be a factor here.”
    â€œHe’ll do just fine. The Puppet Maker will work it out.”
    â€œI hope so.” He turned to Ward. “Was everything in the suitcases?”
    â€œI’ll check them out after dinner. No need rushing.” Rone noticed a patient, almost gentle tone in his voice.
    The Highwayman seemed perplexed. He nodded and turned back to Rone. “Ward is absolutely right. There is no need to rush. I seem to have developed the tendency to hurry in my twilight years—as if I want to get on with it. Ward knows better. You listen to him. Each of us can still learn a great amount from Ward. It’s been very heartening to see you. Yes, it has been very heartening.” The Highwayman turned and walked back through the door. Ward was already up the aisle and out of the church.
    Rone caught up to him as they neared the mall.
    â€œYou left the church open,” he reminded him.
    â€œNo one will go very far with it.” Ward sat down on a cement bench facing the statue. He took an apple out of his back pocket and began paring it with a penknife. The sun had begun to set. A somewhat cooler, more arid breeze drifted across the grass.
    â€œWell, what do you think of him?” asked Ward.
    â€œI couldn’t tell. He didn’t say very much.”
    â€œYou’re disappointed, aren’t you? Disappointed and worried. Everything was all rah-rah until you met the hero of the game, eh?”
    â€œI didn’t say that.”
    â€œI don’t see you gushing with enthusiasm.”
    â€œHe wasn’t what I had expected.”
    â€œI’ll tell you something, Nephew: Stop expecting. It’s better that way. It cuts down on the rate of disappointment.”
    â€œYou seem more worried about him than I do.”
    â€œThere’s a big blue ocean between worry and concern—I’m not worried. He’s getting old. That in itself doesn’t amount to a hill of beans—but he knows he’s getting old, that’s all that’s bugging him. He’s starting to think about time. He’ll get over it.”
    â€œYou don’t sound too sure.”
    Ward looked up at him with a broad grin. “I’m sure, Nephew—I’m very sure. There’s not much difference between him and a boxer. Ever see them jokers just before the fight? They’re trembling like a leaf. Wait till the bell sounds.”
    â€œNothing seems wrong with you,” Rone said without wanting to.
    â€œI fight a different kind of war. He knows what he’s doing. He’ll get us through okay.”
    â€œYou’ve been with him a long time, haven’t you?”
    â€œLong enough.”
    â€œThen you must have known Sturdevant.”
    â€œI knew him.” Ward was slicing the peeled apple into eighths.
    â€œIt sounds like you didn’t like him.”
    â€œLook, if I give you all the answers at once—Can we call the quiz show off?”
    â€œIf that’s the way you want it.”
    â€œSturdevant was a fraud. He was none of the things people said about him. He wasn’t a cold-blooded, sadistic killer. He was two things—a great con man and an incurable de generate. He had the knack of getting other people to do everything for him. He wasn’t a bad strategist, but a one-man crusade he wasn’t. He was also a coward. Yes sir, Nephew Charlie, a real coward. And he knew it. He stayed way behind the lines—if he was up front he’d’ve shattered like glass—so he kept out of action and built up his own legends. He peddled more bullshit in World War II than Goebbels. His boys were good—damn good—and he gets a given degree of credit for that. But for the rest, that man in there did most of the work—he was