The Guest of Honor

by Irving Wallace

  The reporter from Red Banner did not hide his skepticism. “You can be sure of that after two meetings with him?”

  “I’m positive of that.”

  The heavyset man from Visaka Journal was on his feet, hand upraised. “Madame President…”

  “Yes, please,” said Noy Sang.

  “You ask us to trust your judgment. Does General Samak Nakorn trust it as well?”

  “I think he may. I can’t say for certain yet. I have not met with General Nakorn since my return. I will know more after this evening, when I will attend a dinner at the general’s residence to welcome me home.”

  The man from Visaka Journal stared at Noy Sang. “Maybe I can give you some information that will help you this evening,” he said.

  “What’s that?”

  “I met with General Nakorn at breakfast this morning before this press conference. I questioned him intensively about the result of your meetings with President Underwood. General Nakorn seemed less confident than yourself in what you had achieved.”

  This was tricky, Noy Sang knew, and perhaps a trap, but she had opened the door to it and now she had to allow Nakorn’s opinion to be heard.

  “I’ll be glad to hear what General Nakorn told you,” Noy Sang said, weakly, since she was not glad to hear publicly what Nakorn had said. “Please continue.”

  “General Nakorn believed it was unwise to give the Americans less than they wanted for an air base,” began the man from Visaka Journal. “He felt it would be wiser to give the United States the larger air base they wanted, not only for our future self-protection but to cement a relationship with an ally we may need to depend upon. As to the loan, General Nakorn was satisfied with that, feeling the money would be of great value in modernizing our army and strengthening it with conventional weapons when the time comes to wipe out the Communist opposition.”

  Noy Sang flushed at the last. “I have no intent to wipe out the Communists,” said Noy Sang sharply. “I am prepared to spend part of the loan to modernize our air force as a defense against any external enemies, but I intend to spend most of the money on education for the young and help for the health and independence of the old.”

  “I think General Nakorn will be surprised.”

  “He shouldn’t be,” said Noy Sang. “He knows very well I’ve arranged for Minister Marsop to meet with the Communists, specifically Opas Lunakul, in an attempt to bring unity and peace to our country.”

  The man from Visaka Journal shook his head. “General Nakorn does not think that can happen. He believes that prolonged negotiation with the Communists can work against us and only antagonize our American allies.”

  Noy Sang stood firm. “I believe negotiations can be successful and that President Underwood will be satisfied with the result.”

  “Will you tell General Nakorn that?”

  “Tonight,” said Noy Sang. “I will tell him exactly that tonight.” She glanced about the room. “Any further questions?"

  Noy Sang did not like General Nakorn’s dining room in Lampang’s National Defense Building. Except for a full-length portrait of Nakorn wearing a uniform heavy with medals, and a smaller portrait of President Noy Sang, the decorations on the walls made it look like the museum of an armory. Along two walls were hung ancient swords, criss-crossed and gleaming, and on the facing wall were rifles belonging to the previous century.

  An adjutant to the general had shown the guests to their seats at the long dining-room table. At the head of it sat Noy Sang as president of the nation. Directly opposite her sat General Nakorn as chief of the army and host for the evening. To one side of Noy Sang was placed her sister, Thida, and next to her Marsop, and after them several of her cabinet ministers.

  Beside Nakorn were Colonel Peere Chavalit and a number of his military aides in full uniform.

  Fingering his goblet, Nakorn addressed himself to Noy Sang. “Welcome back to Lampang, Madame President, after what I am told was a successful trip to the United States. Marsop kept me personally informed of the steps you took with President Underwood.”

  “Steps I gather you are not entirely in agreement with,” replied Noy Sang.

  Nakorn feigned surprise. “Why do you say that?”

  “Because I have learned how you feel about my diplomatic activities,” said Noy Sang. “I had a press conference this afternoon. The gentleman from Visaka Journal was forthright in stating he had breakfasted with you, and you made, your views on my diplomatic efforts clear. You did not like them.”

  Nakorn frowned. “Surely there must be some misunderstanding.”

  “Let’s find out,” said Noy Sang, smiling. “For one thing, I’m told that you felt I should have been even more generous with the space I allocated to the United States for an air base.”

  Nakorn’s frown deepened. “I’m not sure I voiced that dissent. But I’m prepared to voice it now, unless you prefer that we wait until after dinner.”

  “I prefer to discuss it now.”

  “Very well,” said Nakorn. “The United States needs the large air base as a crucial matter of self-defense, and we need the United States as a powerful partner in our own self-defense. Why deny them what they require?”

  “I have not denied them what they require,” said Noy Sang. “The president of the United States is quite pleased with our arrangement. He grasped the point I was trying to make with him. That it was absolutely essential that Lampang not only appear—but remain—an independent state.

  That too many concessions to any foreign power, even a staunch ally, would weaken our position at home, here among our own people. If the opposition to our democratic ideals, in this case the Communists, could show that we were giving up too much precious land to foreigners, rather than to our own people, it would weaken us in our own country, where we must maintain control. You can see that, can’t you?”

  “Actually, the air base is not my main concern,” said General Nakorn. “Give or take, a few thousand acres will not affect our future. Our future lies in the loan you obtained from the United States.”

  “So I’ve heard,” said Noy Sang, wryly.

  “Let me congratulate you on the size of the loan you managed to get from President Underwood. It was beyond my expectations.”

  “Thank you, General.”

  “It is something I dreamt about and hoped for,” Nakorn continued. “With this money we can modernize our army and acquire new conventional weaponry to give us the best fighting force in this part of the world. Certainly, once the money is spent properly we will have the strength to attack and wipe out the Communist rebels in one concerted offensive.”

  “You want the loan to obliterate the Communists,” said Noy Sang quietly.

  “Absolutely. There can be no better purpose.”

  “You know I disagree with you, General.”

  “Disagree with me?”

  “On how the loan is spent. I’ve discussed this with Minister Marsop at length. We are not allocating the money to murder Communists. We will be spending it on the health, education, and welfare of all our people on Lampang.”

  “But the Communist threat—”

  “There will be no threat. Marsop is meeting with Lunakul to come to a peaceful agreement that will absorb the Reds into the mainstream of our society.”

  Nakorn half lifted himself from his seat. “Impossible. They cannot be trusted for one moment. Marsop is too soft for them.… Forgive me, Minister Marsop, but you are not a military man and you do not have my experience in these matters. Lunakul and his gang understand only strength, their own and ours. If our president still insists on your meeting with them, Marsop—”

  “I do,” Noy Sang interrupted.

  “—then I should accompany Marsop. The Communists know they can’t fool around with me.”

  Noy Sang shook her head vigorously. “That would never do, General. Lunakul knows your record and your desires. Your presence would only antagonize him.” She paused. “Marsop, is the only one with a possibility t
o reconcile both sides.”

  Nakorn shrugged. “Whatever you wish… I see that they are ready to serve our dinner. That calls for a toast. Colonel Chavalit, will you see that the champagne is poured.”

  The colonel rang a bell that summoned a wine steward. The steward was followed by a waiter carrying two chilled bottles of champagne in a glistening silver ice-bucket.

  As the first course was being served, the waiter slowly made his way around the table, pouring the champagne.

  When the first of the meal was on the table, and the champagne in its flutes, General Nakorn rose, glass in hand.

  “Let me offer a toast to President Noy Sang and her remarkable success in America.”

  Noy Sang concentrated on General Nakorn as she brought up her flute to return the toast. All other glasses were uplifted as everyone joined the toast and drank.

  A moment later, Noy Sang heard a gasp and turned in the direction from which it had come.

  She realized that the gasp had come from Thida, that her sister was pale and coughing, and swaying dizzily.

  “Thida, what’s wrong?” Noy Sang called out. Thida had a wracking fit of coughing. “I—I’m choking. I feel sick. I’d better lie down.”

  General Nakorn was instantly on his feet. “What is it?” he wanted to know. He half circled the table to reach Thida.

  “I—I don’t know,” gasped Thida. “I’m going to faint.”

  Nakorn grabbed her to support her, and shouted across the table, “Let’s get her to the bedroom to lie down. Summon the residence physician!”

  As Nakorn, with Noy Sang’s help, brought Thida to her feet and half carried her out of the dining room, Colonel Chavalit was on the telephone with the military doctor. “Come at once!” he cried out. “The general’s bedroom! An emergency!”

  No sooner had he hung up than General Nakorn dashed in.

  “Get an ambulance!” he shouted. “We must get her to the hospital immediately!”

  Two hours and twenty minutes later Thida died.

  There had been poison in her champagne.

  While Noy Sang burst into tears, breaking down completely, Marsop tried to comfort her, and General Nakorn rushed off to begin his investigation into the death.

  Noy Sang was dry-eyed and exhausted when, an hour later, General Nakorn returned. He was grim.

  “I’ve gotten to the bottom of it,” he announced. “I myself questioned everyone on the kitchen staff. At last I wrung the truth out of two of them. It was the wine steward who was responsible. He’s a member of the Communist Party. I hate to have you learn it this way, but all the Communists will murder even the innocent to get their way.”

  Noy Sang blinked at the general. “But why Thida? What did she have to do with Communists?”

  “I don’t know. I only know you must have no further hopes of negotiations with them.”

  “We’ll, see,” said Noy Sang. “I now want to question this Communist murderer.”

  General Nakorn raised his hands helplessly. “I’m afraid it’s too late, Madame President. I ordered him taken right out and executed. He is better dead.”

  General Nakorn sent them back to the palace from the hospital in a military limousine.

  Marsop closed the glass partition separating the chauffeur from himself and Noy Sang, who were both seated in the rear.

  He wanted to speak to Noy in privacy. “What are you thinking, Noy?” he began. “It’s terrible, just terrible. It’s unbelievable.” Marsop sat quietly holding Noy’s hand. At last he released her hand, and turned to half face her. “Noy—”

  “Yes?”

  “Noy, it was an accident.”

  Her face expressed puzzlement. “What was an accident?”

  “Thida’s death.”

  “I—I don’t understand you.”

  “Let me explain,” said Marsop. “During the toast, did you see Thida and me join the toast?”

  “I’m not sure. I don’t think so. Since General Nakorn was offering the toast, I guess I was looking at him.”

  “Probably,” said Marsop. “But had you been looking at Thida and me, you would know it was an accident.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Remember the old-fashioned way our parents used to toast?”

  “I’m not—not sure,” Noy said falteringly.

  “During a toast they linked arms, or rather crossed them, and they drank not from their own glasses but from each other’s.”

  “Are you saying—?”

  “I’m saying Thida and I laughed and toasted in that old-fashioned way. She held her drink before me, and I held my drink before her. Then we drank each other’s champagne. Her champagne was fine, and I was not affected. But when she swallowed my champagne, she swallowed poison, and she died.”

  It was beginning to dawn on Noy. “You mean—?”

  “I mean the poison was meant for me. I was the one targeted for death, not Thida. By accident she drank my champagne and it killed her. I was supposed to be dead, not Thida. My drink was meant to eliminate me.”

  “My God!…”

  “But, Marsop, who would want to kill you?”

  “I can’t say for certain. It could be someone who would not want me alive to bargain with the Communists. What do you think?”

  “I shudder to think of it.”

  “Think of it,” said Marsop softly, and he settled back in the rear seat to await their arrival at the palace.

  The news of Thida’s death reached Washington, D.C., not many hours later.

  It came to Anuthra, Lampang’s ambassador to the United States, and he hastened to visit the Department of State and call upon Secretary of State Ezra Morrison.

  “I knew you would want to know as soon as possible of this grave development,” said Anuthra, “since Thida was successor to Noy Sang for the presidency of Lampang. I felt it was an official matter, and that President Matthew Underwood would want to send a representative to the funeral.”

  “He certainly would,” said Secretary of State Morrison. “Again, let me convey my deepest sorrow and condolences. I will instantly inform the president of this sad affair.”

  Matt and Alice Underwood were in the solarium on the third floor of the White House, having a drink before dinner and watching the television news when the call came from Ezra Morrison.

  Underwood took the call and signaled Alice to lower the volume on the set.

  “Some bad news from Lampang,” Morrison began.

  “What bad news? Does it have to do with Noy Sang?”

  “No, not really. Her sister, Thida, was poisoned at a dinner party and died almost immediately. Noy Sang was right there.”

  Underwood exhaled his relief that Noy was safe, but then was incredulous. “Her sister? Tell me, Ezra.”

  Morrison reported what he had been told by the ambassador.

  When he was done, Underwood said, “That doesn’t sound like an accident. Are there any other details?”

  “Not from the ambassador.”

  “How’s Noy Sang taking it?”

  “I have no idea, Matt. Not too well, I’d guess.”

  “I’d better find out for myself. Can you or Blake phone Lampang for me and get Noy Sang on the line? It’s one in the morning there. If she’s asleep, wake her. I want to speak to her as soon as possible.”

  “I can do it,” promised Morrison. “Stand by. I should get back to you in two or three minutes.”

  Underwood hung up and sat staring at the telephone.

  “What was that all about?” Alice called over.

  “Noy Sang, the president of Lampang—”

  “Oh, yes, the one you had so much business with.”

  Underwood ignored the jab. “She just lost her sister. Apparently intentional poisoning.”

  “They’re really barbarians down there.”

  “I don’t know the circumstances. I only know that the sister, Thida, was next in the line of succession. Obviously we’ll have to treat it with seriousness.”
<
br />   “Another cozy trip for the vice-president?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know if Trafford is the right person.”

  The telephone rang, and Underwood grabbed for it.

  There was a rushing sound that usually accompanied overseas phone calls. Then a male voice came on.

  “President Underwood?”

  “Yes, this is Underwood.”

  “I am Marsop here.”

  “Hello. I’ve heard the terrible news. How is Noy?”

  “You’ll hear for yourself. Here she is. Please hold on.”

  Even at the distance, Underwood could hear her voice, soft and clear. “Matt, is that you?”

  “Noy, I’ve heard the awful news. Is it possible?”

  “I know, it’s incredible, but it happened in my presence.”

  “Tell me in your own words what happened.”

  “Well, it was at dinner in the dining room of General Nakorn’s National Defense Building. He proposed a toast—”

  Then she went on, brokenly, and told Underwood how Thida had died.

  When she was through, Underwood said grimly, “I’m told the poisoning was not an accident.”

  “It was and it was not. The poisoning was intentional. But it was an accident that Thida was the victim. It was really meant for Marsop.” She repeated the circumstances of how Thida and Marsop had drunk each other’s champagne.

  “Who would commit such a murder?”

  “Someone who did not want Marsop to sit down with the Communists and bargain for peace.”

  “We know how General Nakorn feels.”

  “He blames someone else, a wine steward on his staff who was secretly a Communist and did not want peace talks.”

  “Has the steward been interrogated?”

  “Only by the general. He was satisfied the killer had been found. He had him executed immediately.”

  “Does that make sense to you?”

  “I don’t know.” Noy broke down briefly. “I only know that Thida is gone.” She paused. “I didn’t mean to get you involved in this family affair, Matt.”

  Underwood protested. “It’s more than a family affair. Thida was your successor. That in itself would be important to us.” He hesitated. “Usually on these sad occasions we find someone to represent us. My vice-president or Blake or Morrison. But I feel this is more important.”