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Overview
Alex Doyle is a tough man on a tough assignment in Ramona Beach, Florida, the kind of place that doesn’t trust strangers and is policed by a sheriff who echoes the locals’ sentiments with a billy club. But Alex isn’t an outsider, exactly. He grew up in Ramona Beach—until they railroaded him out of town. “Can’t trust trash,” they said. Alex has never been back . . . until his employer, the Defense Department, sends him home to locate a government scientist and get him out alive. Unfortunately for Alex, Ramona Beach has a long memory. Unfortunately for Ramona Beach, so does Alex.
Features a new Introduction by Dean Koontz
Praise for John D. MacDonald
“The great entertainer of our age, and a mesmerizing storyteller.”—Stephen King
“My favorite novelist of all time.”—Dean Koontz
“To diggers a thousand years from now, the works of John D. MacDonald would be a treasure on the order of the tomb of Tutankhamen.”—Kurt Vonnegut
“A master storyteller, a masterful suspense writer . . . John D. MacDonald is a shining example for all of us in the field. Talk about the best.”—Mary Higgins Clark
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9780307826909 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Random House Publishing Group |
| Publication date: | 06/11/2013 |
| Sold by: | Random House |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 160 |
| Sales rank: | 464,893 |
| File size: | 2 MB |
About the Author
Date of Birth:
July 24, 1916Date of Death:
December 28, 1986Place of Birth:
Sharon, PAPlace of Death:
Milwaukee, WIEducation:
Syracuse University 1938; M.B. A. Harvard University, 1939Read an Excerpt
chapter ONE
He had been on special assignment in Montevideo, had been there only a month when, without warning, they had cabled him home. He got Pan Am to Miami and Eastern to Washington. On the April morning after his arrival, he took his written report on his half-completed job to his chief of section at State, and made his verbal report to the chief and two of his aides, carefully concealing his surprise and irritation at being pulled off, and his curiosity at who might be assigned to complete the job. And his greater curiosity at what might be in store for him.
Shoemacher said to him, “Alex, I might say off the record that I do not approve of this sort of thing. I do not believe that any other agency should be entitled to reach down into my section and lift one of my better people. But, because I do not have the facts as to how important or necessary this action is, and because the orders came, quite bluntly, from upstairs, I am in no position to protest. The loan period is indefinite. When they return you, Alex, I will be curious to learn your opinion as to whether this was … necessary.”
“Who wants me?”
“The name and room number is on this slip. A Colonel Presser. Pentagon. He’ll see you at any time.”
He taxied to the Pentagon and found Presser’s office at eleven-thirty. The girl looked blank and aloof until he said he was Alexander Doyle and the colonel was expecting him. Then there was a quickness in her eyes. After a short wait she told him he could go in. The Colonel was a pale, meaty man who arose and came around the corner of his bare desk to honor Alex with a heavy handshake.
“So glad to meet you, Mr. Doyle. And this is Captain Derres.”
Alex shook the narrower hand of a small rumpled captain with a ferret face They sat down, Alex across the desk from the colonel, the captain at the colonel’s right. The only object on the bare desk was a black-cardboard file-folder. From where he sat Alex could clearly see the title tab of the folder. Alexander M. Doyle. And the never-to-be-forgotten army serial number.
“You are probably very curious as to what this is all about, Mr. Doyle. Let me say that whether our little venture is successful or not, I am most appreciative to State for their co-operation in this matter. And let me say also. Mr. Doyle, that there is no need for us to ask you any questions.” He touched the folder with the tip of a thick white finger. “We have here all pertinent data. You will understand, before we are through, just why you are singularly suited for this mission.”
“May I make a comment, Colonel? Before you begin?”
“Of course, Mr. Doyle.”
“You used the word mission. And there is a sort of … cloak and dagger flavor about all this. I want you to understand that even though my work during the past three years has been … confidential and investigative, it hasn’t been at all … dramatic. I mostly juggle a lot of papers. Add bits and pieces together. Sometimes I come up with answers. Usually I don’t. What I’m trying to say is that I don’t believe I have the … talent or training for anything very dramatic.”
“There may well be … dramatic elements in this, to use your word, Mr. Doyle. But we feel you are perfect for our purposes. To begin then, does the name Colonel Crawford M’Gann mean anything to you?”
“Y-Yes, sir. Something to do with the missile program. A technical type.”
“Age forty-five. West Point graduate. Flyer in World War II. Work at M.I.T. and Cal Tech after the war. A brave and resourceful and … rather humorless officer. Cold. Brilliant. Could get to the heart of a technical problem and improvise measures to cure the bugs. A perfect man for these times. A driver. We’ll give you a file on all this for your study, Mr. Doyle. I’ll tell you the history briefly. Crawford was rather naïve about women. Three years ago he met and fell in love with a woman who was singing some … rather questionable songs in a supper club here. In spite of all the subtle pressure his friends could exert, he married her. We thought her a most unsuitable person. But, to our surprise and pleasure, she did a good job of making herself over into an army … rather an Air Force wife. Entertained properly. Handled herself well. And Crawford M’Gann’s work improved, if anything. A year and a half ago, in November, M’Gann suffered a massive coronary. He did not die. He was given a medical discharge. His wife nursed him. She took him away to a secluded spot. She played the part of the diligent loving wife for a few months, and then it would appear that she became restless. It became necessary for Colonel M’Gann’s sister to come and help care for him. November of last year, Mrs. M’Gann was murdered. The case has not been solved. I personally doubt that it ever will be. It is our desire that Colonel M’Gann return to Washington. He is not well enough to be placed on limited service, but he is well enough to operate in a civilian capacity and give us the benefit of his enormous talents. We need the man, Mr. Doyle. The country needs the man, badly. He is too involved with the murder of his wife to consider anything else. We need someone to change his mind. We think you are the man.”
Doyle stared at the colonel and wondered if the man was mad. “But this is absurd, sir!”
“Perhaps I’ve been playing a rather stupid game with you, Mr. Doyle. I’ve left out certain essential facts. Colonel M’Gann lives with his sister in a rented beach cottage at Ramona Beach, Florida. The maiden name of the woman he married was Larkin. Jenna Larkin.”
Alexander Doyle looked down at his hands and saw that he had clenched them into fists, that the knuckles were white with pressure. He felt as if he had been clubbed across the belly. The colonel and the captain seemed far away, and he knew they were watching him. He slowly became aware of the fact that the colonel was speaking.
“… send other people down there, but it has been an utter failure. They have been strangers. The local officers of the law have chased them out. Celia M’Gann, the sister, has kept them from seeing the colonel She thinks we … want to bring him up here and kill him. I’ll be frank. Sustained work might cause his death But if he were not still under the influence of his dead wife, I know it is a risk he would accept That town of Ramona seems to … unite against anyone from outside. Our research on you shows you were out of the country when the murder occurred. Mr Doyle. Otherwise you would have known of it. It received a big and unfortunately gaudy play in the papers. And it has made good copy for those magazines who trade on the sensational. There is a complete file of clippings in the folder we will give you.”
“I can’t go back there,” he said simply.
Colonel Presser ignored his statement. “Because you were born and grew up in Ramona, Mr. Doyle, you will be able to fit into the community with little trouble. And it should not be difficult to devise a reasonable cover story to account for your presence.”
“But I …”
““If the murder of Jenna M’Gann were to be solved, I suspect that Crawford M’Gann would come out of his morbid trance, but that is a little too much to hope for. It is hoped that you can … penetrate the defenses set up by Celia M’Gann and make an opportunity to talk in private to Colonel M’Gann. You will find in your folder the suggested line you should take in talking to him She intercepts his mail. There is no phone at the cottage. We think that if an intelligent and persuasive man can get to him and talk privately to him, he may listen. And if he will not listen to the … call of duty, if I may be so trite as to call it that, he may listen to enough of the unpleasant facts about Jenna M’Gann to … weaken his preoccupation. The results of our detailed investigation of her are also in your folder, Mr. Doyle.”
“But I don’t think you understand.”
“What don’t we understand, Mr. Doyle?”
“I … I was born there, Colonel. Right at the bottom. Swamp cracker, Colonel. My God, even talking about it, I can hear the accent coming back. Rickets and undernourishment and patched jeans. Side meat and black-eyed peas. A cracker shack on Chaney’s Bayou two miles from town. There was me and my brother. Rafe was older. He and my pa drowned when I was ten. Out netting mackerel by moonlight and nobody knew what happened except they’d both drink when they were out netting. Then Ma and I moved into town, and we had a shed room out in back of the Ramona Hotel and she worked there. She died when I was thirteen, Colonel. In her sleep and I found her. She was just over forty and she was an old, old woman. The Ducklins were distant kin and they took me in and I worked in their store for them all the time I wasn’t in school. I don’t even think of Ramona any more. Sometimes I find myself remembering, and I make myself stop.”
“Are you trying to tell us you are ashamed of your origin, Doyle? And that’s why you don’t want to go back?”
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