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Chapter
Eight
Hunter’s Plea
for Help
'So much is easy – exchanging life for art – realizing sameness.'
Looking back –
it’s was Hunter’s phone call that reeled me in to go searching the
ends of the earth for Joe Randolf
Professor E.
Wyndom Hunter, Chief of IIS, phoned early that morning, well before 7
a.m.. With eyes half open, phone sideways, I manage to hear his
immediate disclaimer.
“I know it’s an
ungodly hour, Jay…”
“Ungodly and Saturday Hunt. What do you want?”
“It’s about Joe Randolf.”
He’s breathing
hard as if he’s been running.
“What’s the matter?”
“You saw him yesterday in Harvard Square. What did he have
on his mind? Anything special?”
“IIS has eyes
watching Harvard Square?”
“He talked for
sixteen minutes and forty one seconds.”
“You
eavesdropped? Then you know what was said!”
“Jay - What can
you tell me? Your feelings, your general impression?”
“Nothing’s
changed. Same old Randolf. I’m going back to sleep.”
“Jay--”
“Look- I’m not
involved.”
“He’s working on
a project of global priority. I must know--”
I say a little
miffed, “If Randolf revealed information about his work, it’s breaking
security codes, right? And, understand this, if he did, you
can bet it makes absolutely no sense to me. Is that good enough?”
“He may have
said something concerning a….”
“You’re putting
me on the spot. Why?”
“I need your
help. He’s been known to confide in you. Jay, he’s in danger.”
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