Kisses From Satan

by George B Mair

  ‘Tomas. A puncture. Give him a few minutes.’

  Jan, the secretary, poured out a glass of Moet et Chandon and gulped it down. ‘Tomas sounded annoyed. He doesn’t like hitches.’

  ‘And, like me, he doesn’t like the death of Zero.’ The newcomer’s words were bitingly cold. ‘Someone is going to pay.’

  ‘The subject is second item on our agenda, Leonardo.’ The secretary was respectful. Leonardo Coia was a man to be reckoned with. Born in Turin forty-five years earlier he was the organisation’s ‘ideas man’ and his ingenuity had earned him a special place among men, each of whom, in his own way, was a near genius.

  ‘Then I shall have something to say,’ said Coia softly. ‘I was very fond of Zero quite apart from the fact that he was the best chairman we have had in my lifetime.’

  There was a crunch of tyres on the gravel outside and all four men glanced automatically from the window. The car was a green Mercedes, and a tough-looking thick-set man of about forty was stepping out from the rear door. He was wearing a dog-tooth check two-piece suit and he walked with the poise of an athlete. His face was blandly unlined but there were pouches under eyes which seemed to recede under beetling eyebrows and to smoulder bluely frigid from a deep coffee-colour tan. The skull was almost clean shaven and the man’s lips pouted in a sensuous smile as he spoke for a moment with the chauffeur.

  The secretary walked swiftly towards the hall and there was a buzz of conversation outside. Leonardo Coia bit softly at his cigar and Irfan gulped down a half glass of champagne while the German carefully manicured his left thumb nail with a tiny file. And then the secretary returned. ‘The others are seated. Tomas suggests that we open proceedings without further delay.’

  He led the way to the board room and paused inside as the others took their chairs. Proceedings at such meetings were not always orthodox and a routine had evolved as a result of which the secretary was also interim chairman before the appointment of a new Zero.

  ‘The first item on our agenda is to appoint a chairman.’ Jan’s voice was flat neutral but the atmosphere in the room was electric. ‘And it is my duty to report why this vacancy has arisen.

  ‘It is regretted, however,’ he continued, ‘that although this meeting has been delayed for several months in order to collect essential facts we still lack full knowledge of almost all relevant details.

  ‘I can only say that our previous chairman accepted personal responsibility for acquiring possession and monopoly use of an important new chemical evolved in Britain by an Edinburgh scientist.

  ‘He selected a small team of experts and in the last bulletin sent to myself stated that he was about to leave the U.K. by air with a supply of the chemical together with the man who invented it. He further reported that he had succeeded in kidnapping a notorious counter spy called David Grant, and that Grant would be flown to our home base for interrogation. Finally, he wrote that the scientist’s daughter had been included in the party with a view to persuading her father to co-operate in our plans in the event of the man proving obstinate. Our aircraft then took off but crashed some hours later in the North Sea. Rescue ships were speedily on the scene and we know that Grant was rescued along with the girl and her father.

  ‘What we do not know,’ he continued, ‘is what happened to our own team, to the aircrew or to our chairman. An intelligence black-out seems to have been ordered by the responsible authorities and it could be argued that we have no proof of even one single death.

  ‘As against that possibility is the fact that several mysterious bundles were later carried ashore from a naval rescue craft and apparently whisked into oblivion. Our source of information, however, states that these bundles could have been bodies and that one of them was our own chairman. A second is said to have been the pilot and a third is reported to have been a young man, presumably Tony, our chairman’s personal bodyguard.’

  A deep voice interrupted the report. ‘What source gave these clues?’ Tomas was studying his own cyclostyled report of the case and a puzzled frown was creasing his forehead.

  ‘A Royal Naval Petty Officer whose wife is one of our contacts in London. The girl says that her husband refused to say much about this particular mission but that he guessed it was a “hush-hush affair involving big names.” When she tried to pump him he dried up after dropping a few hints.’

  Tomas’ voice was very suave. ‘And why was this man not removed for questioning?’

  The secretary shrugged his shoulders. ‘He was admitted to hospital a few days later suffering from acute leukaemia and died before being discharged.’

  ‘Then continue.’

  ‘The aircraft sank within minutes of crashing and since it sank in fairly deep water it was some time before we could arrange any diving procedures which might have cast light on what happened inside the fuselage. Especially since Royal Naval and other forces were on the site for many days.’

  ‘But presumably the pilot was in contact with base.’ Tomas’ fingers were beating a short sharp tattoo on the table.

  ‘That is so,’ said the secretary quietly, ‘though again his messages cast very little light on the subject. We only know that some sort of turbulence endangered the aircraft and then messages ceased. But,’ he added slowly, ‘they stopped fully two hours before the crash.’

  ‘And what was the last news-flash?’

  ‘Aircraft entering zone of considerable air turbulence. Port engine on fire.’

  ‘After which communication was cut off?’

  ‘Exactly.’

  Leonardo Coia looked across the table at men he had not met for over a year. Dmitrov Popov, the Bulgar, dead pan as usual, but with his lynx-like senses catching every nuance of a dialogue which was building into a climax. And then James Smithers, the English financial genius, immaculate in his charcoal grey suit, but with tight lips which showed his seething inward tension. Beside him Charles W. E. Miller Junior, relaxed in Dak trousers and sky blue shirt, but with eyes which moved restlessly over the room as he listened with ill concealed impatience to the secretary’s report. Who, wondered Coia, would ever have recognised this long lean American as one of the most ruthless planners SATAN had ever known? With his genial smile and crinkling hair, his slightly nasal drawl and relaxed personality he could have been a playboy film star on vacation. And what a contrast to the man on the next chair, that aged expert Nikolas Petrechevo, a White Russian emigré wearing the crimson flash of a Chevalier du Légion d’honneur. At eighty-two he could still pass for the middle sixties and he looked more French than the French among whom he had lived for over forty years. His moustache was still black and his tiny pointed beard twitched with arrogance every time he looked at a pretty woman. He was all nerves and senses. A volatile genius who knew more than any living man about counter espionage and the inner circles of intelligence in at least nine world capitals.

  Voices were droning on, but Coia was hardly listening as he glanced to the left and studied his immediate neighbour. Ugi, the Japanese expert on international law, was small, sleek and feline. His parchment-like skin was taut over high cheek bones and his smile was mirthless even at the best of times. But he was worth a fortune to SATAN and his staff rated as the best informed department of the organisation.

  On the other side, to the right, Marsden Lloyd turned the scales at twenty stone and was a mountain of fat surrounding a brain which knew more about the underworld of crime than any living man in any continent. And he was executioner to the organisation. Executioner-in-chief rather, since he used a staff of juniors for routine work.

  Coia’s brief appraisal of his co-directors had taken less than a minute, but voices were now being raised as Tomas stood up and pointed an accusing finger. ‘This report is inexcusably short on much salient information. I have had to fill in details by direct questioning and in my view you have failed to assess many background facts which matter. The man Grant, for example, who exactly is he?’

  The secretary pressed a button on the undersi
de of the table with his knee and relaxed as he felt the drawer slowly open. ‘Grant’s dossier is attached, but in a nutshell he is a counter agent for NATO. His official number is said to be Treble A One and as Treble A One he has been a thorn in our flesh for years.’

  ‘Then why was he not removed?’

  ‘Because Zero ordered otherwise. He saw no reason to provoke an investigation into the man’s death unless stakes were high. So long as he was not personally involved in our affairs then Zero wished him to be left alone. You may remember,’ he added, ‘that it is part of our policy not to kill purely for revenge, but only when an antagonist is involved in a conflict of interests with our own people. For the past nine months or so Grant has been otherwise engaged. There was no clash of interest so Zero personally ordered that we do nothing.’

  ‘You have proof of this?’ Tomas’ voice was sceptical.

  The secretary shook his head. ‘They were personal instructions in line with our tradition.’

  ‘It is also our tradition that problems are dealt with in advance.’

  The secretary’s voice was ice cold. ‘Are you criticising Zero?’

  Tomas shook his head. ‘I am criticising your own competence.’

  Nikolas Petrechevo’s hand suddenly slapped the table. ‘This meeting ought to be called to order. So under the circumstances and as the senior person present I am taking the liberty of doing so. I am also going to tell you a few things about Grant.’

  Ten pairs of eyes turned expectantly and tension dropped a point.

  ‘Our colleague Charles Miller is about to enter Dr. Hancke’s Geneva Clinique so he will be interested to know that consultations have also been arranged for Dr. Grant and that they will be patients in the same place at the same time.’ He lit a Burmese cheroot. ‘Grant is accompanied in Geneva by his mistress, the Russian ballerina Maya Koren. They are presently staying at the Hotel Rhône and arrived three nights ago. But Grant has also dined with a woman called Stefanie Carmichael who is ADSAD agent 234, and in my view it would be unwise to ignore the possibility that they are engaged on some mission or other which may link with ourselves. I refuse,’ he added deliberately, ‘to believe that Grant’s admission to the Clinique can be rated as coincidence. It is much more probable that he is interested in one of us. The first duty, therefore, of our next chairman will be to consider this problem with all its implications.’

  There was a heavy silence and the secretary glanced round the room. ‘My personal thanks, Nikolas. We were becoming foolish. And I apologise for defects in my report. The fact is that no other information has been received.’

  The old Russian twirled his moustache. ‘My own people claim that Zero was cremated along with the pilot and Tony. Zero’s face had been destroyed by a heavy calibre bullet fired at close range.’ He waved his hands expressively. ‘Don’t ask how I know this, let it suffice that my man is never wrong.’

  Coia studied each of his co-directors as they listened to the news and then he eased himself to his feet. ‘I propose that we move directly to appoint a chairman.’

  Ugi the Japanese seconded the motion.

  The secretary gently slipped his drawer back into position and felt a bead of sweat trickle down his back. ‘There is a small wallet in front of each one of you. Each contains ten cards.’ He pointed to the stove. ‘You will each put your nomination into the ballot box and burn the others in the fire which has been lit over there. Any questions?’

  Irfan the Armenian was the youngest man present. ‘How much of a majority is required?’

  ‘A simple majority is sufficient. But it is my responsibility to remind you that the appointment is for life. It is also my duty to remind you that the qualities you must look for in your nominee are aptitude for leadership, ability to organise and sift facts, a capacity to decide major issues and willingness to accept responsibility on a level equalled by few heads of state.’

  The room had rustled into total silence and then Coia reached for the plastic wallet which lay beside his blotter. Silently he thumbed through the cards, dropped one into the ballot box and lifted the lid of the stove. Only when the remaining cards had been burned to ashes did he rake them with a poker and return to his seat.

  Fifteen minutes passed before the last man sat down and then the secretary again stood up. ‘It is my further duty to shake the box, open it and lay the cards face down on the table.’

  A bead of sweat again broke on Alexei the German’s forehead and Coia half smiled as he saw the man’s hand tremble as he once more lifted his nail file and scraped at the end of his left thumb.

  There were only two nominees. Alexei had three votes. The others had gone to himself.

  The room suddenly rustled with excitement and the secretary glanced at him dead pan. ‘Leonardo Coia, you have been elected chairman by a majority of forty per cent. As you know, the secretary is not allowed to vote. But it is, however, my last duty to swear you into office.’

  He pressed the button and drew out his gun from the open drawer. Coia had walked over to stand beside him. His face was utterly impassive but Irfan marked a glint of excitement in the cold blue eyes and listened for a quiver in the voice as Coia lifted the gun and held it with the muzzle pointing to his temple.

  The secretary glanced at a sheet of paper. ‘Repeat these words. “I Leonardo Coia accept office as Chairman of the Society for Activation of Terror Anarchy and Nihilism. I agree to pursue policies in line with the traditions of our Society and accept that only death can release me from office. I further undertake to destroy myself, and thereby spare my colleagues need to execute me, in the event of their choice proving to be a failure.

  ‘“I shall follow majority decisions in all matters affecting our Society and will accept guidance in specialised matters as may from time to time be necessary.

  ‘“I repeat that I place my life in the hands of my co-directors and will terminate it on their orders if so required, it being understood again that this will be asked of me only in the event of failure, treachery or impairment of faculties through age.”’

  The secretary sat down. ‘I declare Leonardo Coia to be duly appointed chairman.’

  The latest Zero looked at the vacant chair and slowly sat down. He lifted a gavel and rapped the table. ‘This is no time for speeches of thanks. You chose the man you wanted and whom you reckoned was best suited for this post. I have accepted and there the matter rests. I shall be alert to give satisfaction. Meanwhile I wish to hear more about Nikolas’ information vis-à-vis Grant. Our previous chairman was my personal friend and Grant has become my own immediate top priority. Over to you, Nikolas.’

  Chapter Four – ‘She might even have to be removed.’

  Petrechevo leaned back in his chair. His eyes darkened for a brief second and he doodled on a sheet of white paper while he spoke.

  His department had succeeded in infiltrating two agents into NATO’s Administrative Department controlling Security against Attack and Defence. But they held junior office and he still lacked a list of key names. But ADSAD had become more dangerous to the Company’s operations than any other national organisation and in his view the time had come to eliminate the top men. ‘Which means using a special technique,’ he added slowly, ‘because ADSAD is so tightly disciplined and its administration is so excellent that normal counter-espionage has taken us nowhere.’

  He glanced towards Tomas. ‘You are a hypnotist, an expert in psychology. Can a man be hypnotised against his will?’

  The younger man leaned forward slightly. His voice was unexpectedly soft but his whole personality had suddenly changed and his enthusiasm became infectious. ‘Psychology has nothing to do with it. I am also an occultist. And that has little to do with it either. Hypnosis is a separate science and while it is true that an ordinary practitioner can seldom control an unwilling subject there are at least five men alive who can dominate any living person whether they co-operate or not.’

  ‘Forgive me, Tomas,’ continued Nikolas tactful
ly, ‘but are you sure of this? Could you, for example, hypnotise our chairman against his will?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And you claim that you could dominate any living person?’

  The Spaniard nodded. ‘Anyone.’

  ‘But would you expect to be able to control a man who was a complete stranger? Could you make him play ball after only one session?’

  Tomas hesitated. ‘I would prefer to know him socially first. I would then work upon him in my own way and using methods which could not fail, but I would also expect to use him as I wished within a few days even in the most obstinate case.’

  ‘And would your subject know that he was being worked on?’

  The Spaniard again shook his head. ‘Technique is very refined. He would know nothing.’

  Nikolas carefully drew the outline of a swan, and as he dotted in an eye he looked up with a half smile towards the chairman. ‘I suggest that Tomas also enters Dr. Hancke’s Clinique. He can then keep an eye on things and at the same time gain control over the mind of David Grant.’

  Zero’s eyes narrowed slightly. ‘Meaning that we can then get a list of ADSAD’s key men while he is under hypnosis.’

  ‘Together with everything else he knows about this extremely secret department.’

  ‘And you are sure that this can be done?’ Zero stared curiously at the Spaniard. ‘Tomas, this is a big decision. You have not yet met Grant. How can you be so certain that he will be pliable?’

  ‘Shall I give a demonstration?’

  Zero shook his head. ‘Not yet. But if and when you do succeed you will bring him here. He must be made to talk, and talk good.’ His voice suddenly acquired edge. ‘And then he must be disposed of.’

  Marsden Lloyd had an unexpectedly deep voice and the room silenced as he rumbled into the conversation. ‘How d’we know that Grant won’t be kidding? I’d like proof before I took anything from a man who was supposed to be hypnotised. And I’ve heard it said that a guy won’t do anything under hypnosis which he wouldn’t do at ordinary times. How d’you propose to test him?’