Helm - The Menacers Part 5

THERE WERE FOUR MEN in the outer sitting room of the hotel suite when I entered, and there were four chairs arranged more or less in a semicircle around a low table. I had a pretty good idea who'd been elected to occupy the sofa upon which the chairs kind of focused.

Mac himself had opened the door for me. He closed it behind me. "This is the man we call Eric," he said. "Sit down over there on the sofa, Eric. Would you care for a cup of coffee?"

I could have used another one, but there are circ.u.mstances under which it is not diplomatically correct to eat, smoke, chew gum, or take a drink, even coffee.

"No, thank you, sir," I said.

I went over to the indicated piece of furniture, but I did not sit down. I mean, respect is cheap and looks good, why not utilize it? I waited respectfully, therefore, while Mac seated himself. Then he made a gracious little gesture, and I sat down. I thought his left eyelid half-closed in a kind of wink, as he played up to my phony show of deference, but I could have been mistaken. He wasn't really a winking man.

He looked about the same as the last time I'd seen him, which was about the same as the first time I'd seen him, more years ago than I cared to think about. A lean, gray-haired man with black eyebrows, he was wearing a neat dark-gray suit that might have been designed for a banker, but he was no banker. He was one of the half-dozen deadliest men in the world, and to one in the know, like me, it showed plainly.

The tweedy, affable-looking man next to Mac wasn't deadly. He was only dangerous if you were vulnerable to conniving and intrigue, and ~f you were stupid enough to turn your back on him. He had a handsome red face, a shock of picturesque white hair, and piercing blue eyes, and he was the coming boy in undercover politics, a character named Herbert Leonard who'd decided that our government's vast civilian intelligence establishment would provide a fertile field for his organizational talents.

He'd already managed to promote himself a new, streamlined agency that would deal with all problems of security and espionage more efficiently-so he claimed-than all us old-fas.h.i.+oned, stickin-the-mud outfits could possibly do. Obviously he hoped to swallow up or supersede us all in the long run. It was said of him that he envisioned himself as the J. Edgar Hoover of the international cloak-and-dagger set; there were even those who felt that he wasn't totally blind to the fact that Hoover himself couldn't live forever.

I'd never met him before, but I'd been shown the pictures and told the rumors. I had an uneasy hunch, finding him here, that the U.S. people I'd encountered in Mazatlan would turn out to be his. And if I'd tangled with some of Leonard's proteges, I was in even more trouble than I'd thought.

Next was a man I didn't know, but I bet myself I could place him with reasonable accuracy. He was crowding fifty, but when they get involved with airplanes young-particularly military airplanes-they seem to develop a characteristic Rover-boy look that lasts them the rest of their lives. Some day I'm going to find out what it is about the upper atmosphere that imparts that durable boyish appearance to those who love it. Personally, I age fast whenever I'm off the ground.

Anyway, I was willing to wager a small sum that I was in the presence of a military flyboy with a reasonable amount of rank. He was in civilian clothes-sharp gray flannels-but the eagles or stars show on a man even when the uniform gets left behind.

Next to him was a short, dark, compact gentleman with a thin black moustache. He was obviously foreign, presumably Mexican, in a dark business suit, immaculate white s.h.i.+rt, and silk tie-they don't go in for casual clothes much during business hours. His presence gave an international flavor to the gathering that I found somewhat rea.s.suring. Apparently the purpose wasn't only to give one U.S. agent h.e.l.l, although that might be first on the agenda.

The white-haired Leonard was the first to speak. "So this is the man caned Eric!" he said quickly. "If you don't mind, General, before we start, there are a couple of questions I'd like to put-"

"But I do mind." For all his youthful look, the flyboy could put a snap into his voice. "I have a good idea what questions you want to ask, Herb, and we've already been through all that. You're out of line. I'm not a d.a.m.n bit interested in your intramural squabbles, for one thing, and for another you haven't got a leg to stand on. I'd never fault one of my pilots, in a combat situation, for returning the fire of an unidentified aircraft when there had been no warning whatever of friendly traffic in the area. As I understand it, this man did everything possible to establish identification, and it was refused. So your agent got shot because somebody got too secretive, and we're sorry about that, but it's got nothing to do with our business here."

Leonard said angrily, "General, I want to point out that I had three good operatives in Mazatlan. One was killed by this man. One was critically wounded trying to rescue him. And the third is presently involved with the Mexican authorities-no offense, Seor Solana-because of her efforts in his behalf. All this for an agent who, when the chips were down, failed to go through with the job he'd been sent to do."

Well, I now at least had a notion what had happened to the bullet from the Luger cartridge case I'd seen. Mac's lips had tightened disapprovingly as Leonard spoke. He doesn't mind administrative infighting-he's been through years of that-but he can't stand a man who uses "presently" to mean "at present," any more than he can abide anybody who uses "contact" to mean "make contact with." We're all very careful to leave such gobbledygook usages out of our report. But this was no grammar cla.s.s, and what he said was: "Eric, did you request cover from one of Mr. Leonard's agents?"

"No, sir. I told him to get a good night's sleep and lay off. He must have decided to follow me on his own."

Leonard leaned forward triumphantly. "And why didn't you ask Hartford to help you? To make doubly sure of carrying out your a.s.signment?"

I said politely, "If I had the situation figured right, sir, I wouldn't need him. And if I was wrong, I figured he couldn't help me much, anyway."

Leonard took the bait. "Why not?"

"Well, sir," I said, making a show of hesitating, "well, sir, Ha.r.s.ek's grade A material, if you know what I mean. He eats little boys like that alive. There was no sense in just setting the kid up for a target."

I shrugged. "Apparently he went and set himself up, and got himself shot as could have been predicted." Leonard's red face was a shade or two darker than it had been. "His interference probably saved your life, Mister! Of course you wouldn't know that, being unconscious at the time."

"Yes, sir," I said. "And if that's true, I'm duly grateful, but I wasn't aware that saving my life was one of the objectives of this mission. He apparently didn't manage to rescue the girl, which would have been more to the point."

The flyboy leaned forward, interrupting Leonard's retort. "Never mind all, that, Herb," he snapped. "I told you to lay off. As for you, son, you've mentioned the objectives of your mission. Maybe you'd better tell us what they were, as you saw them."

It's been a long time since I've been called "son" by anybody, and he'd have had to be kind of precocious to make it as my daddy, but in the armed forces they tend to figure the generations more by rank than by age.

I hesitated. "If it's not cla.s.sified information, I'd like to know to whom I am speaking, sir."

He looked a little taken aback; then he grinned. "Why, certainly. I believe you know the two gentlemen on my right. I am Brigadier General Bill Bannister, U.S.A.F.-Bannister like in stairs. I'm kind of in charge of this whole crazy operation. And this is Seor Rainon SolanaRuiz of the Mexican... . Well, let's just say that he represents his government here. Very unofficially, of course."

"Thank you, sir," I said. "As for the objectives of the mission as I saw them, they were twofold: to bring a certain young lady to Los Alamos if possible and to kill her if not; also to do this without embarra.s.sing the Mexican authorities if it could be done."

Bannister nodded. "Well, at present the Mexican authorities are embarra.s.sed. And the young lady is neither in Los Alamos or heaven. Is that correct?"

"I don't know, sir." When he frowned, I explained: "I have no firsthand information about what's taking place in Mazatlan official circles. And I don't know what may have happened to Mrs. O'Leary since I last saw her."

"But you will admit that you were at least partly responsible for some rather embarra.s.sing corpses left behind at your hotel, and that you did not, yourself, carry out the instructions you'd been given concerning the lady."

"That is correct, sir."

Leonard leaned forward aggressively. "The fact is, you spent the night with the girl and she got to you, isn't that it?"

I said, "We certainly spent the night in the same room. It would have been difficult for me to guard her otherwise. As to whether she got to me, or I got to her, I fail to see the relevance of this." I looked towards the general. "It's a principle of the profession, General, that what happens in bed has nothing to do with what happens anywhere else."

He looked amused. "And did anything happen in bed, son?"

"No, sir. But it's a difficult thing to prove, so I won't try."

Leonard said sharply, "In any case, you failed to do your a.s.signed job, didn't you?"

Bannister frowned at the interruption, but said to me: "That's about the size of it, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Do you have an excuse, or an explanation?"

I said, "I have a reason, sir."

Bannister said, a little irritably, "You don't have to be so G.o.dd.a.m.n humble, son. I know d.a.m.n well what you're thinking. You're a tough character-a professional killer, to put it bluntly-and you're thinking that if we lean on you too hard, hard enough to make you mad, you can take the lot of us, just like a fox cleaning out a chicken coop. Am I right?"

He was sharper than I'd given him credit for. I risked a grin and a little impudence. "Yes, sir. And I'd take you first, sir."

"Why? I haven't been giving you as hard a time as some in this room."

I said, "I'd take you first, sir, because I wouldn't want you loose while I took care of the rest."

At this, he grinned back at me. "Flattery will get you nowhere, tough boy. And just go easy on those greasy 'sirs', will you? I get enough of that c.r.a.p in the service." He cleared his throat. "And now tell us your reason for disobeying orders. You walked into a trap, okay. It happens. Your instructions covered that possibility. If you couldn't get her up here you were to shoot to kill. Why didn't you?"

I said, "Because I discovered that was exactly what they wanted me to do."

11.

I WON'T SAY IT brought down the whole house. Mac didn't look tremendously surprised, and SolanaRuiz raised his eyebrows slightly, but allowed himself no other reaction. For all I knew, the Mexican had a language problem and wasn't following the discussion in every detail.

But the flyboy general looked startled and interested, as if the idea I'd presented was totally new to him, and rather intriguing. And Leonard's expression showed scornful disbelief, and indignation at my nerve in presenting such an outlandish excuse for my misbehavior, which was about as good a response as I could expect from him.

He demanded, "Do you really expect us to believe-"

Bannister said irritably, "Oh, shut up, Herb! Save the rhetorical questions. Obviously he expects us to believe it or he wouldn't have said it." He looked at me. "Are you sure, son? Positive?"

I said, "Positive, no. But I was sure enough to refrain from pulling the trigger in spite of orders. It looked as if somebody had misjudged the situation completely-"

"The idea is ridiculous!" Leonard snapped. "If Ha.r.s.ek had wanted Mrs. O'Leary dead, he had plenty of time to shoot her himself."

"I don't think that's quite the point," Bannister said slowly. "I think friend Eric, here, has another thought in mind."

"Yes, sir. I don't think Ha.r.s.ek just wanted her dead. I think he wanted her dead at my hands-at the hands of an American agent."

Bannister frowned. "Let's go back a bit, son. You say you 'discovered' this. How?"

"I discovered it when the bullet-proof gla.s.s slid up between me and Ha.r.s.ek, and gas started hissing into the rear compartment of the taxi, quite audibly. That was the tip-off. A corny movie routine like that couldn't possibly mean what it was supposed to mean. I don't say the sealed-taxi gag hasn't ever been used in real life, but it's certainly never been used when it was important to immobilize the guy instantly, because there just isn't any such gas as far as I know, and even if there is, they weren't using it. It followed that they didn't want me instantly unconscious. They wanted to give me just a little time before I pa.s.sed out-time enough to do what they knew I had orders to do. There could be no other reason for them to telegraph their Sunday punch like that."

Leonard said, "You're just rationalizing after the fact! Probably they took a chance on using a rather slow and clumsy technique because they knew you had amorous reasons for not harming the young lady. At least they figured you'd hesitate-"

"On the contrary," I said, "they had no reason to think I'd hesitate at all, that's just the point. All their evidence pointed the other way. I'd warned them repeatedly about what I intended to do if they interfered. And I was the trigger-happy gent who'd just burned down a fellow-agent by mistake because I was so G.o.dd.a.m.n eager to kill. They had no reason to think I'd wait an instant, given the slightest excuse for puffing the trigger. So they gave it to me." I looked at Bannister. "I'd been under the impression that this girl was valuable to them; that they had to have her alive and talking. When I discovered that was wrong... . Well, it seemed best to keep the bullets in the gun until I learned the real score."

The general drew a long breath. "As a matter of fact, son, the orders you received were a little more drastic than necessary or even desirable. Somebody in Was.h.i.+ngton flipped when he heard the girl's tape, and decided to initiate emergency action without consulting anybody else, including me. So we're not too unhappy about your results, or lack of them. Which of course doesn't excuse you in the slightest."

"No, sir."

"Orders are supposed to be obeyed," he said firmly. Then he grinned a little. "On the other hand, a little common sense isn't a bad thing, particularly in situations involving life and death. Are you aware of what this girl saw, or says she saw, out there in the Gulf of California?"

"Yes, sir."

Leonard demanded, "How did you learn that? It's supposed to be very highly cla.s.sified."

I said wearily, "As you keep pointing out, Mr. Leonard, I spent the night with the kid. I had a bottle of bourbon and she was thirsty. After a while she started talking."

"You got her tight and pumped her, in other words." I shrugged. "Nothing in my orders said I couldn't give a girl a drink."

Bannister said, "You're kind of an independent operator, aren't you, Eric? I don't know as I'd want you under my command."

"No, sir," I said, with a glance towards Mac. "Discipline means different things to different commanders, sir. And in our business we can't always get on the radio and check with the home field. Anyway, n.o.body was telling me anything on this deal, so I figured I'd better find out a few things for myself."

"Well, we'll have you study the taped interview and see if the young lady changed any of her testimony under the influence of your whiskey. But having heard her story, what do you think of it?"

I looked at him for a moment, and let my eyes kind of swing towards Solana, and back. "Do you want me to be honest or diplomatic, sir?"

"We are keeping no secrets from our friends below the border, son. We have no secrets to keep, in this connection."

"Sure," I said. "Well, General, I figure there are three possibilities. One, the girl is lying through her teeth for reasons yet to be determined. Two, she saw a real mystery aircraft with forged markings crewed by men in fake uniforms. Three, she saw exactly what she says she saw, and it's you who are a liar, sir; you're trying to cover up something very hush that went wrong. No disrespect intended, of course."

"Of course." Bannister grimaced, and looked at Mac. "Your people lay it right on the line, don't they?"

"They are supposed to, when asked. You asked."

Bannister turned towards Solana. "You heard, Ramon. Has this man covered the various possibilities considered by your government to explain this sighting and the others?"

"Si, General. He has expressed it very well. And you will forgive my saying that the last possibility is one that is being considered very seriously. Your official att.i.tude towards these strange aerial manifestations has always suggested that you might have an ulterior motive for wanting them disregarded. I seem to recall UFO sightings officially explained as the planet Venus when that planet was not visible; and radar contacts explained as false readings due to temperature inversions when weather conditions precluded any such phenomena. We have studied the record carefully, General, and always the question arises: why would the U.S. Air Force go to such lengths to ridicule an UFO reports-if it has nothing of its own in the sky that it would like to hide?"

Obviously, Seor Ramon SolanaRuiz had no language problem whatever. General Bannister winced.

"You're picking at a sensitive nerve, Ramon. I've inherited a loused-up mess. Now we've got the research boys up in Colorado trying to set things straight from the scientific end, while I'm supposed to keep the lid from blowing off in a military and diplomatic way." He turned to me. "You, son. Do you believe in these G.o.dd.a.m.n saucers? I mean, real ones, not phonies with U.S.A.F. insignia on them?"

"Yes, sir," I said.

"You've seen one?"

"Yes, sir."

"Describe it." When I had, he said, "Oh, the green fireb.a.l.l.s. Well, we've got explanations for those, I think."

"Yes, sir," I said. "It used to be marsh gas and now it's electronic plasma or something."

"Are you needling me, son?"

"Yes, sir," I said. "In a helpful way, sir, to emphasize what Seor Solana just said: n.o.body believes your explanations now. You're in the position of the boy who cried wolf, except that your people have for years been yelling at the top of their lungs that there's no such animal as a wolf. And now folks who don't like us are apparently getting smart and trying to cash in on the general lack of confidence in your p.r.o.nouncements."

"You think that's what this Ha.r.s.ek was trying to do down in Mazatlan?"

"It seems very likely, sir. He had a choice. Let's a.s.sume for the moment that the O'Leary kid actually saw a flying machine of some kind land out there in the drink. Skip the question of whether she lied about the uniforms and markings; just say she did see something and, truthfully or otherwise, attributed it to the U.S.A. Getting wind of this, Ha.r.s.ek's superiors would presumably be interested in two things: finding out as much as possible about the mystery machine itself, and making a propaganda profit from the girl's story. And if it came to a choice, the propaganda she could furnish would be more important to them than the information."

Leonard demanded, "Why? I should think they'd want to know everything they could find out... . "

"Sure, but just how much technical information can you expect to get out of a scared girl who saw a strange aeronautical gadget for only a minute or two while she was up to her neck in salt water? How much real information about the thing have you got on your tape? Not much, I'll bet. Anyway, it seems obvious that Ha.r.s.ek got instructions to build up the propaganda angle and let the information go, and that's just what he tried to do."

Leonard looked unconvinced. "By getting the girl shot?"

"By getting her shot by a U.S. agent," I said. "Look, in itself, her story wasn't much. I mean, even if she talked publicly, who's going to take much stock in some weirdie a hysterical kid thinks she saw after jumping out of a burning boat that blew up practically on top of her? But if it gets around that the U.S. is taking her crazy yarn seriously enough to send a team of agents to silence her; if she's actually killed and the American government a.s.sa.s.sin, me, is caught red-handed; then her wild story will begin to carry conviction, won't it? And the communists will have a propaganda coup that'll lose us a lot of friends in Seor Solana's country, where we haven't got many to spare right now, the way I hear it. Am I right, Seor?"

The Mexican said judiciously, "Certainly the rumor that an these strange sightings are due to secret American aircraft over Mexican territory is not doing the relations between our countries any good, Seor. And an incident such as you describe, involving deliberate murder, would certainly have precipitated a great deal of angry talk about Yankee imperialism, perhaps even diplomatic action."

I looked at General Bannister. "I gather from Seor Solana's remarks and yours that the dingus that went down off Mazatlan isn't the only one that's been seen."