by Nick Carter
The smile was gone from her face and she had become serious again, a pensive expression settling over her brow. She sat against the pillows for a moment, listening to whatever her mind was saying to her. Then just as suddenly, she turned those bright hazel eyes to me again, and I saw a smile flicker at the corners of her mouth.
“Sherima won’t be up yet,” she grinned, starting to lie back on the bed. “At least for another—oh—half hour . . .”
“Oh no you don’t!” I said, jumping from the chair I’d taken. “This time I mean up!”
I had far too much to do this morning to give way to Candy’s tempting invitations. Stepping to the bed, I leaned over and pulled the covers down, and in the same movement, rolled her over onto her stomach and swatted her on her bottom.
“Ouch! That hurt!”
I doubted that I had hurt her, but she did jump out of bed.
“And now,” I drawled, “we have to get you back to your room.”
At first, she tossed me a puzzled expression, then, looking at her negligee and peignoir lying over a chair, said, “Oh, that’s right. I don’t have my keys.”
“That’s right, so it’s out the way you came in.”
As she slipped into her negligee, she seemed to suddenly remember her other enormous appetite. “Nick—what about breakfast?”
“A bit later. I have some phone calls to make.”
“All right. Now, how do I discreetly return to my room?” she asked, pulling the peignoir tightly around her.
“Like so.” I lifted her in my arms and carried her to the balcony, then lifted her across the dividing wall. If there were any other early risers looking out their windows in the Watergate that morning, they must have thought they were seeing things. When she had lowered herself to the floor, she leaned back over the wall and kissed me quickly, then turned and. ran through the door and into Sherima’s room.
Returning to my own room, I crossed to the telephone and began punching out Hawk’s number. I was just about to punch the last digit when my door chime started to ring madly and a pounding rattled the door panel at the same time. Slamming down the receiver, I ran to the door and threw it open. Candy stood there, her face ashen and her eyes brimming with tears.
“Nick,” she cried, “Sherima’s gone!”
Chapter 8
I dragged Candy back into Sherima’s suite and slammed the door behind us. I had enough problems without inviting curious guests to show up in the hall or to call down to the front desk to find out why a girl was screaming at that hour. Candy stood by the door to Sherima’s quarters, wringing her hands and repeating, “It’s my fault. I never should have left her alone. What’ll we do, Nick? What will we do?”
I was doing something already. It was obvious from the appearance of the former Queen’s sitting room-bedroom that there had been no struggle there. I came back out into the foyer where Candy was huddled against the doorway, still repeating her litany of despair. A quick look into her room showed me there had been no struggle there, either. Obviously, Sherima had been carried off while she was still partially drugged by the tranquilizers. But how had her abductors gotten her out of the hotel? And what had happened to the Watergate security man who was supposed to have spent the night in the hallway? I had to check on his whereabouts, but I couldn’t risk having the moaning Candy follow me out into the hall again. I had to keep her busy.
Taking her firmly by the shoulders, I shook her gently, then harder until she stopped keening and looked at me. “Candy, I want you to look through Sherima’s clothes and tell me if anything is missing. We have to find out what she was wearing when she left the hotel. While you do that, I have to go back to my room for a minute, understand? I want you to keep this door closed and locked. Don’t let anyone in except me. Are you listening? Do you understand what you’re to do?”
With chin trembling and tears still rimming her eyes, she nodded. Her lips quivered as she asked: “Nick, what are we going to do? We have to find her. Shouldn’t we call the police? Or Abdul? What about Hassan? We should let him know? And the embassy?”
“I’ll take care of everything,” I assured her, holding her close for a moment to comfort her. “You just do as I say and see if you can find out how she was dressed. I’ll be right back. Now remember what I said about not letting anyone in. And no phone calls to anyone right now. Stay off the phone so that if Sherima tries to call you, the line won’t be busy. Will you do that, Candy?”
Sniffling, she lifted one sleeve of the expensive peignoir and wiped away the tears that had streamed down her face. “All right, Nick. I’ll do what you say. But come right back, please. I don’t want to be here alone. Please.”
“I’ll be back in a couple of minutes,” I promised. As I went out the door, she snapped the lock behind me.
There was still no sign of the hotel security man in the hallway. Either he had gone off duty, which didn’t seem likely if he weren’t relieved by another member of the staff, or . . . Turning back, I pushed the button that rang the chime on the door to Sherima’s suite. When Candy asked, nervously, “Who is it?” I identified myself softly and she threw the bolt and let me in.
She started to say, “Nick, I was just starting to look for—”
Brushing past her, I dashed into her room and checked the bathroom. Nothing there. Running back into Sherima’s quarters, I went into her bathroom. The shower curtain was pulled across the tub and I whipped it aside.
Obviously, I wasn’t the only one who had stashed a body that night. Lying in a congealed pool of blood in the tub was the aging house detective I’d seen earlier fumbling for his keys. Death had been the only relief he’d had, I could see where the blood had poured from several stab wounds in his chest. He had probably made the mistake of getting too close to whoever had gone to the door of Sherima’s suite without first pulling his revolver. I spread the curtain across the tub again and went out of the bathroom, closing its door behind me.
My face must have revealed something, for Candy asked hoarsely, “Nick, what is it? What’s in there?” Suddenly she gasped and her hand flew to her mouth, “Nick, is it Sherima? Is she in there?”
“No, it’s not Sherima,” I said. Then, as she reached for the bathroom doorknob, I grabbed her hand. “Don’t go in there, Candy. There is someone in there . . . He’s dead. I don’t know who he is, but I think he may be a hotel security officer who was trying to protect Sherima. There’s nothing we can do for him now, so I don’t want you to go in there.”
Candy looked as though she was about ready to collapse, so I led her into the main sitting room again and made her sit down for a minute, stroking her beautiful hair as she choked back sobs. Finally, she looked up at me and said:
“We have to call the police, Nick. And I have to let the embassy know, so they can contact Hassan. It’s my job. I was supposed to be with her and help protect her.” She started to sob again.
I was wasting valuable time, I knew, but I had to keep her from making any calls that would spread the word about Sherima’s disappearance as far as the palace in Sidi Hassan. It was time to tell her the truth—at least a version of the truth. I lifted her head, and fixing my eyes on hers, tried to sound completely sincere as I said:
“Candy, I have to tell you something. What I told you last night about being an investigator for the oil company isn’t true.”
She started to say something, but I put a finger across her trembling lips and kept on talking.
“I’m an investigator, sort of, but for the United States government. I’m with the Executive Protection branch of the Secret Service. I was assigned to protect Sherima after we got word through sources overseas that someone might try to assassinate Sherima.”
Candy’s eyes had widened at my words and I paused so she could ask her question. “Why, Nick? Why would anyone want to hurt Sherima? She isn’t the Queen anymore.”
“To embarrass the United States,” I explained. “That’s what the whole thing is about. There are peo
ple in Adabi who would like to see the United States lose its influence with Shah Hassan. And if anything happened to Sherima here in the States, that’s just what we are positive would happen. You know he still cares for her very much, don’t you?”
“Of course,” Candy said, wiping away another tear. “He loves her more than anything. He always has. He didn’t want to divorce her, but she’s the one who made him do it. Nick, that’s the secret she has; you remember, I told you everyone has a secret? Well, Sherima said Hassan had to give her up to save his life and the children’s . . . Oh, Nick, what’s going to happen to her? What have they done with her?”
“Don’t worry,” I said, hoping that I sounded confident. “We’ll find Sherima and get her back safely. But you have to help. Not just Sherima, but your country.” In response to the question that flashed across her face, I continued, “You see, if you contact the Adabian embassy now, the news will spread that Sherima has been kidnapped. -Right away, the world will know that the United States couldn’t protect her. And that’s just what her kidnappers are counting on. I think they plan to hold her for a while, probably just long enough to focus everyone’s attention on the hunt for her and then . . .” I didn’t have to say the obvious—the look on Candy’s face told me she understood what I meant.
“So you see,” I went on, “as long as we can keep her disappearance quiet, she’s safe. The people who took her away need the headlines. For a while at least, we can keep them from getting them. But I need your help. Will you pretend that Sherima is here and safe? It may save her life, and it will help your country.”
“Nick; I’ve been away from here for so long that I don’t even think of this as my country anymore. But I’ll do whatever you think will help Sherima.”
“It will help Hassan and Adabi, too,” I pointed out. “If the Shah pulls away from the United States, he won’t last long. There are people in the Mideast just waiting for the chance to move in on his country. And it wouldn’t be just a matter of driving him from the throne. It would mean his life.”
For a moment fire flashed in Candy’s eyes and she spat out, “I don’t care about him. He deserves whatever he gets.” My surprise must have registered on my face, for she continued, much subdued, “Oh, Nick, I didn’t mean that that way. It’s just that it’s Sherima I’m most concerned for. She’s never done anything to hurt anybody.”
I didn’t have time to question her about her obvious implication that Hassan had hurt people, but I made a mental note to get back to it later. Instead, I said, “Then I can count on you to help?” When she nodded, I said, “AM right, here’s what you’ll have to do . . .”
Abdul would soon be arriving at the Watergate to pick up her and Sherima to go househunting again, I explained, noting the time. Her job was to keep him from finding out that Sherima was gone, since he was a servant of Shah Hassan and would feel obligated to report her disappearance right away. Candy wanted to know how she was supposed to do that, so I suggested that when Abdul phoned from the lobby, she tell him Sherima wasn’t feeling well and had decided to stay in her suite and rest for the day. However, she was to tell the bodyguard that his mistress wanted him to drive Candy back up into Maryland so she could begin contacting real estate agents there, since Sherima had settled on that as the area to buy an estate.
“What if Abdul wants to talk with Sherima?” Candy asked.
“Just tell him that she has gone back to sleep and doesn’t want to be disturbed. Tell him that if he insists, he’ll have to be responsible. I think he’s been conditioned enough to taking orders from Sherima through you that he’ll do as he is told. Now, I want you to go out with him and keep him up around Potomac as long as you can. Stop at every real estate agency you can find and keep him waiting while you go over listings. Give me as much time as you can before coming back to Washington. Then, when you do have to come back, explain that you have to do some shopping for Sherima and have him take you to some of the stores downtown. That will give me a few hours to try to track down Sherima and see if we can’t get her back before you two return. All right?”
She nodded, then demanded, “But what if you can’t find her by then, Nick? I can’t put him off forever. He’s going to want to get a doctor or something if Sherima isn’t up and around by the time we return. What do I tell Abdul then?”
“We’ll just have to worry about that when the time comes. You can tell the manager before you leave here this morning that Sherima isn’t feeling well and doesn’t want to be disturbed by anyone . . . maids or phone calls. That way, nobody will be trying to get into the room today. And the switchboard won’t put through any calls to the room. Better still, maybe you better instruct the manager to have the switchboard tell any callers for Sherima that she is out of the hotel for the day. Make certain that he understands everyone is to be told that, even if someone from the embassy phones. Stress the fact that Sherima is indisposed and wants no calls or visitors. He’ll listen to you, since, from what you’ve told me already, you’re the one who has been dealing with the hotel staff since your arrival.”
“Do you think it will work, Nick? Can you find Sherima before she gets hurt?”
“I’ll do my best. Now, I’ve got to go next door and make some calls. I don’t want to .tie up this phone right now, just in case. You get dressed and be ready when Abdul arrives. And don’t forget to look through Sherima’s clothes to see if you can tell what she was wearing when they took her away.”
I made certain she was up and moving around before I went back to my room and phoned Hawk. As succinctly as possible, I told him what had happened and what I had arranged with Candy to keep the news from spreading. He wasn’t so certain that I had been right in identifying myself as an agent of the Executive Protection Service—there could be considerable repercussions if something went wrong and it looked as if that bureau were going to take the blame for it—but he agreed the story was better than telling her the truth about myself and AXE.
He also was a bit disconcerted about having to arrange to pick up two bodies at the Watergate, but we quickly worked out a plan. Two of his men would deliver a pair of packing cases—ostensibly containing rented movie-projection equipment—to my room as soon as possible. The suggestion would be made to whatever member of the hotel staff passed them through the delivery entrance that they were to set up the equipment for a business conference in my room, then return later for it. The corpses would go out along with the packing boxes.
“What about the hotel security man?” I asked Hawk. “There’s liable to be someone coming up to relieve him soon. He’s been on duty all night, supposedly.”
“As soon as we’re off the phone,” Hawk said, “I’ll get to work on that. Since we have the kind of influence we do with the people who run the hotel, we’re in a fairly good position, but even so, it’s going to take every bit of pull we have to keep this quiet. And we can only hush it up for so long, then there will have to be some sort of official explanation for his death.”
My orders were to stay in my room and await further information from Hawk. I wanted to get into action, but admitted when he pointed’ it out, that there really was little I could do at the moment. He assured me he would put out an alert immediately through all official channels to be on the lookout for a woman of Sherima’s description, without identifying her by name. Also, all AXE agents who had infiltrated militant radical groups and known subversive organizations operating within the District area would be ordered to use any means at their disposal to establish a lead to the former Queen’s whereabouts.
In response to a question from Hawk, I told him that I felt certain Candy Knight would cooperate in trying to cover up Sherima’s disappearance. “Not so much because it’s for her country,” I told the Old Man, “but for Sherima herself. And certainly not for Hassan’s sake,” I added, telling him about her apparent dislike of the man who had done so much for her. “I’d like to know what’s behind her feelings about the Shah,” I said.
�
�I’ll see if I can get anything more from our branch in Sidi Hassan,” Hawk said. “But I think they put every available piece of information in that dossier. Now, N3, if you’ve nothing more, I want to set all these things into action.”
“Right, sir. I’ll be waiting here for your call. I just want to go next door to see if Candy is ready to divert Abdul Bedawi, then I’ll come back to my room as soon as I know they’re off to Maryland.”
Just before breaking off our conversation, Hawk reminded me to put up the Do Not Disturb signs on my door and on the door to Sherima’s suite. “We can’t have a maid going in either of the rooms and starting to clean up the showers,” he observed. I agreed, reassured as always by his attention to the smallest detail, however complex the overall operation. Then we hung up.
“Abdul’s waiting downstairs for me,” Candy said as soon as she unchained the door and let me into Sherima’s suite.
“How did he take the news about Sherima’s staying in today?”
“At first, he insisted on speaking with her. Then I got across the idea that maybe we had celebrated a bit too much after we left him last night—God, was that just last night? It seems so long ago—and that she was hungover, not up to seeing anyone, not being accustomed to drinking so much . . . He was a bit stuffy about it—yon know Moslems and alcohol. But he finally went along with it. I’ll keep him out and busy for as long as I can, Nick, but you’ve got to find her fast. Abdul will kill me if he thinks I had anything to do with her disappearance, or if he even suspects that I kept him from looking for her.”
“Don’t worry, Candy,” I said as confidently as possible. “We’ll find her. I’ve just been on the phone with headquarters, and a lot of people are looking for her already. Now, what was she wearing?”
“It looks to me like she still had on her negligee. None of her dresses seem to be gone, as far as I could tell, but she’s got so many. Oh yes, her long mink is gone, too.”
