David Grant and Harmony Dove walked into the patio while Lu’s trigger-finger tensed over his gun. ‘Chesus,’ said Grant with admiration as he took in the cameo in front of him. ‘you must’ve been one jump ahead of us. This fellow is tops in bluff. Any chance of tea?’
Harmony was pale, but her eyes were sparking with rage when she squatted on the patio beside Lu. ‘For crissake, Lu,’ she said coldly, ‘why did you hold out on me? You knew what was going to happen. I got a flash of you with that gas-mask before I finally flaked out. This bastard was going to chop me when you came like the United States Marines. Explain.’
Lu sighed heavily. ‘I did hold out on you. But just a little. I was even willing to change sides if I felt that this man offered better odds with less human suffering involved than your own campaign.’
‘You mean for uniting your country?’ asked Grant.
Lu nodded. ‘That and the general set-up. I want a free Mongolia, but not at too heavy a price. This man was planning not only an immediate destruction of many top people but the corruption of many drones who remained. He was planning a world based on drugs and Mafia discipline. Which means the gun. He was planning the corruption of youth and the defilement of millions of women. And there isn’t a spark of what we would call real goodness in his heart. But above all I wanted to know his final plan for triggering off his operations. And I’ve found it. You arrived at the right time, since I was telling him how Miss Dove’s young ladies dressed as priestesses can make appropriate broadcasts on telly from the world’s key places after a suitable introduction from the old lady herself—probably from New Delhi I imagine. Though that is only an intelligent guess.’
Grant stared at him with reluctant admiration. ‘Well, at least you’re frank. But Lu, my boy, never do that again or one of us will perish. Savvy?’
The Mongol’s eyes flickered with respect. ‘I savvy. And now tea.’ He lifted an intercom which sat on the window sill behind Lofty’s head and snapped out an order. Charlie and two bearers arrived carrying a samovar and the young man’s manner seemed, somehow, to have changed. ‘Your tea,’ he said briefly. And a gun appeared in each hand almost as he spoke. One shot knocked Lu’s weapon from his hand and Charlie took up position beside the open door. ‘Just don’t do anything except drink tea. These two men belong to me. And I’ve a few words to say before they go into action. Every word you said has been taped as Mehmet Ali told you, while I listened in direct through this.’ He pointed to a rim of metal at the end of a gutter. ‘My mike! And it worked well, so you’d better get into focus. I stand for Asia. But especially for Peking. We don’t want foreign devils on our territory. And there’s going to be no split with Russia over Mongolia. That would lead to war, and neither China nor Russia want it. So your warmongering imperialist leaders are defeated before they start. I seem to be the only sensible person around and your right-wing religious opiates for the masses make me sick. Your goddess is already dead. My men poisoned her yak-milk less than an hour ago and she died fast from prussic acid. So that wipes out one ace at least.’
Grant suddenly paused as he raised his cup. ‘Relax,’ said Charlie. ‘The tea is okay, but only you three drink it. The Australian has had his last cup of anything.’ He turned towards Lofty. ‘The world you planned was perversion itself. But at least Harmony Dove kept to a political angle, even if she was prepared to use religious nonsense to make the grade.’
‘Where were you educated?’ asked Grant suddenly as he listened to Charlie’s non-stop flow of easy American English.
Charlie’s eyes never left Lofty’s face, but he answered the question. ‘School of Economics with digs in Stepney; University of California with H.Q. in ’Frisco; and finally in Peking—where they teach bloody good English when it becomes necessary.’
‘So I take it you’re pretty top in security?’ said Harmony Dove.
Charlie’s lips twitched into a smile. ‘I’m pretty top in everything,’ he said, and shot Lofty through the right arm. ‘Just getting into form,’ he said curtly. ‘Next time it’ll be your belly. But missing things that matter like the liver.’
‘And you aim to stop a world war?’ said Grant.
Charlie nodded. ‘Sure. That would be the only outcome. what with hippie pilots conditioned to drop the bomb anywhere on signal. It would be the end of everything.’ He casually raised his gun and plugged the Australian through the left wrist. ‘Two more bullets,’ he said briefly. ‘Say any prayers you fancy and then you get them at brief intervals.’
Lofty was now bleeding heavily but by sheer willpower was forcing himself to sit, almost rigid, on the low stone seat. ‘May I have one last smoke?’ he said slowly.
Charlie shrugged his shoulders. ‘But watch it. No funny business. So smoke fast.’
Lofty reached towards his pocket and slowly drew out his briar. It was full of tobacco, and he even forced himself, using his fractured wrist, to flick open a lighter. And then, abruptly, he bit off the end of his black mouthpiece and swallowed it whole. He was wriggling on the ground, dying from what Grant suspected was more cyanide poisoning when Charlie shot him at close range, using one bullet for each eye. The man moaned only once, and then he shuddered convulsively on the dust while blood soaked into his clothes and a pool congealed below his head.
Harmony looked dead-pan towards Charlie and the smoking gun he carried in his right hand. ‘If that’s what happened to him what had you in mind for us?’
He giggled, a high-pitched nervous titter which was terrifying. ‘Take your tea and you’ll find out,’ he said at last, ‘but don’t forget that you planned to bring down both China and Russia together with all the rest. So don’t expect it to be easy. You tried to start a fire, so maybe we’ll end with a fire. Save a funeral afterwards,’ he added caustically, and swung out of the patio leaving the two guards in control. They both carried sub-machine-guns of Korean war vintage and Grant saw from the way they handled them that they were expert.
He turned towards Harmony. ‘Any ideas?’ he said.
Chapter Eleven – ‘Goddesses never die’
Harmony shook her head but stared towards the microphone. The place was bugged. Every word would be relayed to Charlie, and Grant suddenly wondered what might now happen to his wife if Lu had really kidnapped her. And then he began to understand what the girl had meant when she insisted that they slept together. It was the only way, she had said, to find out how they both ticked. Later she had seemed satisfied, so now he was forced to think that she believed they now knew one another well enough to predict how each would react in an emergency.
But surely there were a few questions which could mean little to Charlie, though one of them meant a lot to himself? ‘The old lady is said to have taken cyanide,’ he said. ‘But what is this about you carrying my child? Any comment?’
The girl was surprised, but he saw that somehow the question had done something to her. ‘You’re a doctor,’ she said at last. ‘So you know darned well that she had no proof. But she wanted me to have a baby. Seems that another god-child could have been important and Lu had much the same idea Story goes that in the many hundreds b.c. the world only operated using mother goddesses, because no one had figured out the male contribution to life. But they told me that around 800 b.c. or thereabouts the penny dropped and after that the ancients solved the problem by getting a male child out of a female goddess. In Crete—which is what we are using for background—Zeus was born in a cave top of a hill somewhere. And after that it was strictly man-gods all the way. Same kind of idea as in Egypt where things clicked a bit earlier. Anyhow Lu felt that if we were going to appeal to a half-crazy world with a hundred per cent crazy gimmick like this religious dope we should keep accurate in detail and that a gimmick which had worked b.c. might do the trick again. Seems he had a notion to try selling an idea that history was repeating itself in a sort of circle. And if so some darned snake priestess had better have a male child fairly soon under the new set-up which was going to be launched. So I pas
sed on the news and several of the girls are probably at it in the hope of going to top of the class when the time comes. But the old lady was kind of keen on me and wanted me to get the breaks, because it doesn’t take a lot of imagination to see that being mother of a future god was going to carry a lot of credit. Even in our crazy world!’
Grant thought for a moment. ‘But why me? Or had you other sires in mind for this babe?’
Harmony flushed slightly. ‘I’m actually kind of fastidious. Even the prince never made me. But I kept the idea in mind and when you stepped in to the picture I thought there was something to be said for trying it out. So you should take it as a compliment.’
Grant grunted impatiently. ‘And that other guff about knowing how we ticked?’
The girl glanced towards the microphone and nodded. ‘Meant every word.’ She stared at him intently and suddenly broke into a mixture of Spanish and French. The change of language surprised him, but even as she spoke he remembered that both she and Lu were familiar with a load of personal detail from his dossier which might still matter. And he also knew that Charlie would arrive fast if he was unable to follow what was being said, a thought which snapped him into focus. The girl’s comments were rapped out at nearly two hundred words per minute as though she too knew that speed had suddenly become important.
If water could be poured on the heels of Lofty’s shoes which were still close beside them enough gas might be produced to kill the guards and anyone else present.
Though they, Grant and she, might hold breath long enough to survive.
And if so they might escape.
She could also slip off her top, and if the guards’ attention could be distracted for a few seconds Grant and Lu might be able to kill them. But it would have to be fast.
She was talking about the chances of killing one with the knife which she now carried strapped against her thigh when Charlie rushed into the patio. His face was contorted with rage and Grant saw that he was almost trigger-happy with anxiety. ‘What’s going on?’ he shouted. ‘What were you saying?’
The girl had bowed her head. Her hands were clasped under her chin and her reply was very gentle. ‘I was praying for myself and my lover. Praying for strength to die decently. And using the Latin of Mass.’
Charlie looked at her curiously and then began to laugh. ‘Speaking Latin! Mass or something! Well, what d’ye know? And just so that you could die right. For crying out loud!’
Lu was seated in the lotus position and his face was immobile as though he had translated himself on to some higher plane of existence. ‘He praying too?’ said Charlie.
‘There are a lot of ways to God,’ said Grant, and winced as Charlie suddenly smacked him across the cheek with his open hand.
‘Well, for you three there’s only one way. The hot way. Nice and hot and nice and slow.’
Grant risked a question and tried to bury the rage which was certain to have shown in his eyes. ‘We allowed tea or anything? The samovar’s empty. Or another decanter of orange juice, if you like?’
Charlie hesitated. And then: ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘I like tradition myself, and the last-meal tie-up kind of sends me. But watch it. My boys have orders to do you if trouble breaks.’
Lu suddenly opened his eyes and slowly rose to his feet. But his manner was off-hand and his voice very faint. Every movement seemed to be an effort and he had aged fifteen years. ‘I am a Buddhist, Charlie,’ he said slowly. ‘I want to die with no crime on my conscience and I would like to give you the address of your wife. It would be wicked if my plans were carried out, and that such a young girl should also die when so much happiness might lie ahead. And with her baby to feed! So give me paper and pen and I’ll give you the address and send instructions to my friends.’
‘You kidding?’ Charlie was unexpectedly taken off guard.
But Lu simply shook his head. ‘I’m serious because I must die with merit if I am to achieve Nirvana.’
Charlie rapped out a few words to the guards and then disappeared through the door with a speed which reminded Grant of Lu when he was on form.
And then he caught Harmony’s eye as she began to finger her dress and unfasten the front which seemed to be anchored at the neck by only one large hook and a white button lower down. She was also rubbing her forehead as though finding the place too warm: and then it was done! Grant had marked how Lu tensed when she reached for the button, and he had caught a flicker of her intentions as her lips creased in a cynical smile and she allowed the gown to drop from her shoulders. Both Lu and Grant saw that the guards were now staring, as, with the skill of a professional stripper, she wriggled out of the fabric to reveal a tawny figure which was breathtakingly lovely.
Grant eyed the guards carefully. They were not only excited but completely taken aback, and as the girl wriggled her hips to slither her gown over the curves of her thighs their attention wandered for that split second which mattered.
Lu dropped the man nearest to himself with two fantastic chops, karate cuts to right kidney and front of neck, while Grant leapt upwards and with out-thrust fingers blinded his own man with his left hand while his right grabbed his neck below the chin and crushed both thyroid cartilages and hyoid bone in a grip which was one of the most difficult to master. The man gasped for less than two breaths and then Grant’s left hand sought out that sensitive spot deep in the root of the neck where pressure can kill and smiled as the guard slowly collapsed.
Harmony also moved with the speed of a cat as she then grasped the knife which now etched against her naked thigh and thrust it into each man in turn. All three seemed to know what to do and the whole operation was handled in almost complete silence as Harmony wrenched the heels from Lofty’s shoes and Lu handed her his gas-mask while both she and Grant wrapped one of Lofty’s green handkerchiefs around their mouths and noses. They knew that the green fabric protected against nerve gas from the Australian’s buttons, but it was an open bet whether it could also give protection against some unknown gas of even greater power, while they all knew that gas-masks must be only a second line of defence. Safety, if any, must lie in holding breath until they were almost unconscious. He looked at Lu who had proven to be a twenty-three-carat actor, but the man simply smiled and Harmony laughed with her eyes. Their message told him that Lu knew how to look after himself. And suddenly he realised that perhaps, after all, the girl had been wise. They now worked as a team. Each knew what to expect of the other, and now only Charlie remained.
Grant stared through the tiny crack between the hinges of the door while Lu lifted the samovar which was still almost full. Timing was now of the essence, and Grant sighed contentedly when Harmony lifted off the lid and held one heel from Lofty’s shoe over the still-warm fluid. How long would it take for the stuff to dissolve and for enough gas to bubble in quantity sufficient to destroy Charlie, while still allowing themselves to make a getaway? And Grant, more than either of the others, knew that there were several imponderables. If they estimated wrongly they might all die, because some of the most wicked nerve gases were the more deadly because they were totally lacking in smell. They simply couldn’t be detected until it was too late.
Then there was the question of concentration. The dead Australian had boasted that his supply could kill everyone outside. Which suggested that a fractional microscopic dilution might be lethal. In which case there was an argument for using only a part of the heel and breaking off one corner.
Yet if that proved to be insufficient where could they go from there?
And then the obvious came into mind. Lu, Harmony and he were alive and kicking while three dead men lay at their feet. Charlie would arrive expecting no trouble, especially since his monitor system had been proven to work like a charm.
And as the thought crossed his mind, Harmony began to say Ave Marias in Latin—or something—which only went to prove that she had been on the ball when she had mentioned bed. There was surely, now, some very real telepathic communication between them!
She had reacted immediately to his thought of the monitor and Charlie’s reaction to its silence when the idea had crossed his mind.
Yet even while she mumbled, she was hitching her dress into place, keeping a steady eye on a signal from Grant and preparing to be ready for anything.
All three were now counting seconds, and every second seemed to last half a lifetime. Charlie was no fool and some sort of noises which would sound natural had to be made if the man was to be deceived into thinking that everything was still under control of his guards.
Grant forced himself to sound relaxed. ‘Extraordinary how these guard fellows keep quiet,’ he said. ‘Not a word out of them since they arrived.’
The idea got across and Lu was quick to follow on. ‘Trained to act and not to think,’ he said. ‘Very Asiatic. Thinking is done by a few high-ups, either priests or politicals, while the rest just perform. Look like North Koreans to me. Or am I wrong?’
Harmony managed to insinuate a sense of strain into her accents when she spoke and Grant felt that this alone would reassure Charlie if he was still listening in. ‘They make me frightened,’ she whispered. ‘And I don’t want to die. I’m even scared of how they do it. Burning’s such a horrible death.’
Lu sounded vaguely reassuring. ‘I don’t think so,’ he said. ‘Some of my people, Buddhists and the like, have soaked themselves in petrol and died like that as a protest in Saigon. Spectators say it was quick. Though in their case much would depend on an attitude of mind which you may not have reached. Because they were also experiencing the joy of being martyred.’
He lifted a hand in warning and both Grant and Harmony guessed that he had heard a sound. His ears were hyper-acute and in some respects Lu even reminded Grant of a well-trained house dog whose every sense was always pricked. He could relax completely and at the most unexpected moments—even seem years older while he appeared to sleep—yet suddenly spring into action with a ferocity which could be shown only by a man who was either very fit, or very young, or both. He continued to talk while using his hand almost like a conductor’s baton to transmit impressions.
Goddesses Never Die Page 14
