“Joe Klausner,” he said. “My boys are on their own, Tanner, but I would have helped Joe if I could have. But all at once he was dead. Just like that.” He walked to the window, looked out of it. “I didn’t even know he was in Berlin. I thought he was in St. Paul, Minnesota. Then there was a call from Berlin -”

He filled his glass. “You don’t know Sam Bowman,” he said.

“No.”

“It may be too late. Just as it was too late with Joe. But there’s a chance, you know.”

He drained his glass. He seems to drink all the time but never seems affected by it. Either I have never seen him drunk or I have never seen him sober.

“Ah, Tanner,” he said heavily. “I don’t suppose you’ve so much as heard of Modonoland, now have you?”

“Yes.”

“Didn’t think so,” he said. “Most people – you have?”

“Yes.”

He said that was marvelous and would save a great deal of time. I don’t know what time it saved, exactly, because he was primed to deliver a certain speech and he couldn’t alter his programing. “A few thousand square miles in West Africa. A British Protectorate since Versailles. German before that, but a mixed settlement of Germans and Belgians and English and Dutch. Given its independence a couple of years ago. Retained Commonwealth status. Government seesawed for a while. Then a strong man came along.”

“Knanda Ndoro,” I said.

“Kuhnanda Nuhdoro,” he said, adding a couple of syllables. “The Glorious Retriever, he called himself. Sounds like something that might be useful for hunting waterfowl.” He chuckled deeply. “Typical African dictator at first. Went about building grand marble mausoleums and calling them government office buildings and cultural centers and such. Scattered statues of his beautiful self wherever two streets intersected. Which didn’t happen too often, Modonoland being on the primitive side. Did the usual, you know. Had himself a harem, lopped off the heads of the loyal opposition, usual sort of thing.

“And then a couple of years ago the Retriever did something rather extraordinary. The trouble with Modonoland, as with most of these damned countries, is that most of it is just wasted. Just space with jungles and lions and tigers and what-not. And when they try doing something about it, why they only plant some crop that someone else grows better and cheaper, and get touchy if the U.S. doesn’t buy it from them. Ndoro, now, struck off on a new path. You wouldn’t guess what he grew.”

“Opium,” I said heavily.

“Opium,” he said lightly. He didn’t seem to have heard me. “Opium. Planted half of Modonoland with opium, giving himself a big cash crop and cutting the underpinnings from the Red Chinese opium trade in the bargain. A first-class development, you know. We couldn’t have been happier.”

I studied the floor. Stains made a pattern on the carpet, and I wondered if they could be augured, like birds’ entrails.

“And then not too long ago there was an uprising,” he went on. “It was a long while in the wind, and for a time it looked as though some sort of lefties were going to move in. Group called the Movement for Moderation in Modonoland. Batch of political amateurs, but well-financed. Moscow gold, I suspect. Or Peking, more likely.

“They had Ndoro’s government shaking like a leaf, and we were all a bit worried. Unknowns are a danger, you know. Better to stay with the old status quo. At the same time, we determined that Ndoro had to fall. There are times, you know, when it’s strategically unwise to try propping up an unpopular regime. Can’t always be done.”

I murmured something about Saigon. His eyes met mine for an instant, then withdrew.

“But we did have a bit of luck, Tanner. We thought about reinforcing Ndoro, and we rejected that, and then we found out that there were some white men who thought they ought to have a crack at running Modonoland on their own hook. Old line colonialists out of the same mold as the Rhodesians. Oh, I suppose you might call them reactionaries or white supremacists or something of the sort-”

“Or fascists,” I suggested.

“-but there’s no denying that they weren’t the sort to rock the old boat. Kept the opium trade flourishing, for one thing – and the MMM fanatics had intended to put a stop to it. And kept things more or less on an even keel foreign policywise. There’s some trouble with England, some question about the Commonwealth status, but all in all they’re the sort of people we can support. We may not boast about them, but we’re glad to see them around.”

I didn’t say anything.

“Now here’s where it gets a little sticky, Tanner. On the one hand, we gave these white supremacist fellows a little support. Our Boy Scout chums were in on that, and kept it a sight quieter than their usual sort of thing.” He grinned nastily. “They’ve been a little less boisterous since the Bay of Pigs, haven’t they? As I say, they handled that end. But at the same time, we had to do something for this Retriever fellow, this Knanda Ndoro. So I sent a man in to let Ndoro know as much of the score as we wanted to tell him, and to help him get out with his skin intact when the time came. I had a feeling Ndoro wasn’t too keen on white men, what with all the white men trying to chuck him out, so I sent my best black agent.”

“And that was Sam Bowman?”

“Samuel Lonestar Bowman,” he said. “A former burglar, heroin addict, and strong-arm man. Became a Black Muslim in jail. Broke with Elijah Muhammad about the same time Malcolm X did. Organized for the Black Panthers on the West Coast. Shot a policeman in a gun battle, possibly in self-defense, possibly not. Decided to get out of the country. Went to a friend of his, who happened to be a lad of mine. We got him out and added him to the payroll, and he’s been damned good ever since. He went into Modonoland to help Ndoro pack up the royal treasury and get out. Got to him in the nick of time, and the two of them left the back door of the palace while a white mob kicked in the front door. It was about that close, according to the reports I’ve seen.

“Then the two of them headed inland. Two men with a fortune in jewels and hard currencies. They disappeared into the bloody jungle, and they haven’t come out of it yet, and it does not look good, Tanner. Not good at all.”

“There’s been no word?”

“No direct word. Rumors, though.”

“Rumors?”

He hesitated. “A group of bandits, guerrillas, what have you. Operating deep in the Modonoland interior. One never knows what’s to be believed, but they seem to be a band of black religious fanatics led by a… this is slightly fantastic, Tanner.”

I waited.

“Led by a blond-haired white-skinned jungle goddess of some sort.”

“Is that so,” I said.

“Named Sheena.”

“Sheena, Queen of the Jungle,” I said.

“You’ve heard of her?”

“No.”

“Then-”

“It’s nothing. I’m sorry.”

“Er,” he said. “Well, rumors would suggest that this Sheena person has captured Ndoro and Bowman. And while of course she may have had them killed, she doesn’t seem to kill blacks, not as a general rule. So there’s a chance that they’re alive, and that they could be gotten to and brought out alive, and-”

“And I’m elected.”

“I hate to risk you on something this speculative, Evan.” He rarely called me Evan. Only when he was feeling very paternal or when he was conning me. “But this would be a good one to pull off. The situation in Modonoland is troubled. We may yet find a political use for the Retriever. And as for Bowman, well, he’s been a tremendous asset to us. Actually, to get down to cases, he’s our best black operative. In fact-”

“Yes?”

“Well, he’s our only black operative.”

“Oh.”

“Not because of policy. It’s just happened that way. I had been wanting to take on some Negroes for ages. It was still all right to call them Negroes then. In fact when I first wanted to hire one, they preferred to be called colored. I wonder what the word will be after black? I shouldn’t be surprised if things come full circle, don’t you know, and they insist upon calling themselves niggers.” He replenished his scotch, and mine as well. “Hmm,” he said. “Point is, we don’t run recruiting ads, do we? So with one thing and another, well, we never did take one on. Until Sam Bowman came along, and he couldn’t have been better, you know, and now it looks as though I’ve lost him. There are times, Evan, when a black operative has a distinct advantage.”