First he dialed Carlâs number direct and got a busy signal. At least Carl was home. He dialed another number. After the third ring he heard it pick up. As usual the person on the other end said nothing. Hazard said his code letters. T â R â A â K , which alphabetically corresponded with the last four digits of his own New York number reversed. Deliberately loud enough to be heard by Richland and Whitley, he asked what the line was on the Mets that night at Shea. He listened and then said, âIâll take the Mets for a nickel.â Betting five hundred, despite his better judgment that Gibson of the Cardinals would have the underdog Met batters striking, grounding, and popping out all night.
After that he gave Carlâs number another try. Still busy.
For the exercise it was decided that Richland would stay at the installation with Keven and Kersh. Whitley would go along with Hazard and Kershâs first assistant, a young Ph.D. named Lowery. Loweryâs primary responsibility would be to see that certain controls were maintained. Also he would keep an exact chronological record of each image that was chosen. For this purpose he had an oversized clipboard holding a pad of special, printed forms. Attached to the upper part of the clipboard was a special, very accurate watch with a green signal light set in the center of its face. Lowery also would be in charge of the images, which were in a metal box. About a thousand of them.
Hazard, Whitley, and Lowery went out and down the slope to the private landing and a twenty-meter power ketch that Kersh had hired for the day. The owner and his son had sailed the boat over from Westport.
The three men went aboard, the mooring lines were unhitched, and immediately the idling gurgle of the ketchâs engine changed to a louder boil, getting under way.
They headed straight out. It was a bright, nearly cloudless day. The wind was cool, but Hazard took off his sweater anyway to get the sun. For some protection he sat on the deck leeward of the rear cabin house.
Hazard looked forward and noticed how out of place Whitley seemed there in his suit and tie, having trouble keeping his balance against the shipâs pitches and rolls. He watched Whitley take out a cigar and try to light it in the wind. Whitley didnât give up, used almost a whole book of matches, and must have inhaled plenty of sulphur before he finally got the cigar going. He puffed hard and some of the tobaccoâs aroma was carried backed to Hazard. Hazard wasnât a cigar smoker but he knew an authentic Havana when he smelled one. Probably gets them via Canada, Hazard thought, suspecting that Whitleyâs political hypocrisy wasnât limited to such minor transgressions.
At the installation, Keven was being made ready. She was seated in a contour chair in the center of a windowless room. The walls she faced, those on both sides and the ceiling, were blank and black, not painted but covered entirely with a felt fabric so that the black was softer and unmarred. Behind her was a partition of special, dark glass, something like a two-way mirror with reflection. It allowed unobtrusive observation from the adjoining laboratory area.
Keven knew what to expect, having been through these procedures numerous times before, but it usually took her a while to get used to the room. The feeling of being enclosed alone caused an uneasiness that she called âthe clausties.â She usually got over that soon enough, but then there were all the wires and terminals. Kersh had explained the purpose of each and reassured her that there was no danger. Still, she couldnât help but feel edgy about them. Also, the possibility that she might not do well, might fail completely and disappoint Kersh and everyone was another source of her apprehension.
It was expected that everything would come to her and, through her, be fed into the computers just below. The computers would record,
After that he gave Carlâs number another try. Still busy.
For the exercise it was decided that Richland would stay at the installation with Keven and Kersh. Whitley would go along with Hazard and Kershâs first assistant, a young Ph.D. named Lowery. Loweryâs primary responsibility would be to see that certain controls were maintained. Also he would keep an exact chronological record of each image that was chosen. For this purpose he had an oversized clipboard holding a pad of special, printed forms. Attached to the upper part of the clipboard was a special, very accurate watch with a green signal light set in the center of its face. Lowery also would be in charge of the images, which were in a metal box. About a thousand of them.
Hazard, Whitley, and Lowery went out and down the slope to the private landing and a twenty-meter power ketch that Kersh had hired for the day. The owner and his son had sailed the boat over from Westport.
The three men went aboard, the mooring lines were unhitched, and immediately the idling gurgle of the ketchâs engine changed to a louder boil, getting under way.
They headed straight out. It was a bright, nearly cloudless day. The wind was cool, but Hazard took off his sweater anyway to get the sun. For some protection he sat on the deck leeward of the rear cabin house.
Hazard looked forward and noticed how out of place Whitley seemed there in his suit and tie, having trouble keeping his balance against the shipâs pitches and rolls. He watched Whitley take out a cigar and try to light it in the wind. Whitley didnât give up, used almost a whole book of matches, and must have inhaled plenty of sulphur before he finally got the cigar going. He puffed hard and some of the tobaccoâs aroma was carried backed to Hazard. Hazard wasnât a cigar smoker but he knew an authentic Havana when he smelled one. Probably gets them via Canada, Hazard thought, suspecting that Whitleyâs political hypocrisy wasnât limited to such minor transgressions.
At the installation, Keven was being made ready. She was seated in a contour chair in the center of a windowless room. The walls she faced, those on both sides and the ceiling, were blank and black, not painted but covered entirely with a felt fabric so that the black was softer and unmarred. Behind her was a partition of special, dark glass, something like a two-way mirror with reflection. It allowed unobtrusive observation from the adjoining laboratory area.
Keven knew what to expect, having been through these procedures numerous times before, but it usually took her a while to get used to the room. The feeling of being enclosed alone caused an uneasiness that she called âthe clausties.â She usually got over that soon enough, but then there were all the wires and terminals. Kersh had explained the purpose of each and reassured her that there was no danger. Still, she couldnât help but feel edgy about them. Also, the possibility that she might not do well, might fail completely and disappoint Kersh and everyone was another source of her apprehension.
It was expected that everything would come to her and, through her, be fed into the computers just below. The computers would record,
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