His office was empty. It was dustier than usual. His secretary was probably taking a holiday since he was supposed to be out of town. He grunted and sat down at the telephone. He called a man he knew. Hallen—another American—was attached to a non-profit corporation which was attached to an agency which was supposed to coöperate with a committee which had something to do with NATO. Hallen answered the phone in person.
Coburn identified himself. "Have you heard any rumors about a Bulgarian raid up-country?" he asked.
"I haven't heard anything else since I got up," Hallen told him.
"I was there," said Coburn. "I brought the news down. Can you come over?"
"I'm halfway there now!" said Hallen as he slammed down the phone.
Coburn paced up and down his office. It was very dusty. Even the seat of the chair at his secretary's desk was dusty. The odds were that she was coming in only to sort the mail, and not even sitting down for that. He shrugged.
He heard footsteps. The door opened. His secretary, Helena, came in. She looked surprised.
"I was at lunch," she explained. She had a very slight accent. She hung up her coat. "I am sorry. I stopped at a store."
He had paused in his pacing to nod at her. Now he stared, but her back was turned toward him. He blinked. She had just told a very transparent lie. And Helena was normally very truthful.
"You had a good trip?" she asked politely.