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Bennett — if it's not too late."

Chapter 3
    During the drive to Laurel in the chauffeur-driven Cadillac that Hawk had requisitioned, his chief expounded on a point which, in the ordinary course of things, would not have concerned Nick Carter.
    As they left D.C. behind and entered Maryland Hawk said: "I know that normally you leave politics to the politicians, son, but have you been keeping up with the current hassle about the CIA?"
    Nick, thinking briefly of Peg Tyler's marvelous breasts and thighs, admitted that he had not, recently, so much as glanced at a newspaper.
    "I didn't think so." Hawk's tone was sardonic. "But for your information certain Congressmen, and Senators, are raising a hell of a stink. They think CIA has too much autonomy, and they want to do something about it, bring the agency under tighter supervision."
    Nick grinned as he tapped a cigarette on his thumbnail. "Any Congressman that wants to do that can't be all bad. Those meatheads can use a little supervision, I'd say. Their fumbling damned near got me killed in Mexico this last jaunt." [2]
    Hawk rolled down a window. He decorated the serene, rolling Maryland landscape with a beat-up cigar. "The point is — that if they succeed in supervising the CIA then we're next. AXE! The CIA can function in the limelight, but we can't! I won't even try. The day Congress comes poking its nose in the affairs of AXE is the day I resign. Anything like that would ruin us overnight. We might as well take a front page ad in
The New York Times!"
    Nick remained silent. It was a tempest in a teapot. He doubted that Congress would be allowed to investigate AXE and, even if it did, that Hawk would resign. The old man was too firmly wedded to his job for that. The only way Hawk would ever quit was by mandate of the retirement law — even then they would have to bind him and carry him, kicking and screaming, from his little office.
    But it turned out that Hawk was not merely fuming. He was making a point. Now he said: "I know, and you know, that we always operate under cover, in the 'black' and with top secrecy. I don't have to tell you that."
    "But you are telling me, sir. Why?"
    His boss pulled the cellophane off a fresh cigar. "Just to remind you. And maybe help you a little. Normal secrecy and precautions, which are usually tight in any case, are being doubled and tripled in this Bennett thing. We, AXE and all the other agencies involved, have slammed a total blackout on this matter. All over the world. If the press ever gets hold of it we're dead. All of us, but especially AXE. Just because Bennett worked for us last!" Hawk bit off the end of his cigar and spat it out the window. "Damn it to hell! Why couldn't the bastard have ended up in Agriculture, or Commerce — any place but us!"
    Killmaster had to admit that there was some reason for Hawk's trepidation. If the newspapers ever sniffed the scent, ever found out that a Commie agent had been able to lie doggo in Washington for thirty years, to be discovered only after he had made the mistake of murdering his wife, there was going to be a lot of undiluted hell to pay. It could blow the dome right off the Capitol!
    They were in the outskirts of the little town of Laurel now. The chauffeur seemed to know where he was going. As the big limousine turned off U.S. 1 and headed for the business section Hawk said, "I've been out here once before. As soon as the FBI boys started checking and found out that Bennett worked for us they called me. But I want you to see for yourself. That's why I haven't explained more — your first impressions might be valuable. Might help you catch Bennett. He was a real kook, a concealed kook, and I've got a hunch that you're the only man who has a chance of catching him." Hawk glanced at his watch and groaned. "Unless, of course, he's having dinner in the Kremlin about now."
    "Maybe he hasn't made it yet," Nick consoled. "Even if he's running in that direction. You've shot the works on this,