The Guest of Honor

by Irving Wallace

“True,” admitted Hasken. “If it leads to something, it’s a bargain. If it adds up to nothing, it’s a loss. What do you think?”

  “I don’t know what to think. You have a feeling something is going on in Lampang?”

  “A gut feeling,” said Hasken.

  There was a silence on Whitlaw’s end of the phone. “I’m mulling it.”

  “Whatever you say, boss.”

  A longer silence. At last Whitlaw found his voice. “All right, one word.”

  “Say it.”

  Whitlaw said, “Go.”

  President Underwood arrived in Visaka on Air Force One late in the evening.

  He had tried to nap on the flight from Beijing, but he was kept awake by a turmoil of speculations. Marsop, a quiet, conservative man, had requested that he come to Visaka at once. That meant an emergency of some sort. The fact that Marsop had made the call instead of Noy meant that she was not available—unless she was ill—and that something drastic was afoot.

  Fully awake, Underwood tried to imagine what could be going on. Without a real clue, it was impossible to guess. He would simply have to be patient and wait for an explanation from Marsop.

  Would Noy be on hand to do the explaining? If she hadn’t telephoned him herself, it was unlikely that she was available.

  If she wasn’t available, where was she?

  When Air Force One landed and rolled to a halt, the president half expected Marsop to be waiting for him. But Marsop was not to be seen.

  Instead, a limousine and two Fords were on standby, the limousine for himself, and the other cars for the six Secret Service agents to precede and follow him. Also, Underwood noticed, two cars of army, guards, Noy’s personal security force, were on hand to flank him for the drive into the city.

  Since, at Underwood’s request, there was no motorcade and no sirens were used, the journey from the airport into Visaka was slowed, and the party did not arrive at the Oriental Hotel for three quarters of an hour.

  Four of the Secret Service men rushed ahead to go upstairs and check out the president’s suite. The other two Secret Service agents accompanied Underwood into the hotel.

  As Underwood entered the hotel, there were guests lined up on either side, held back by Noy’s security guards, to see what kind of celebrity was arriving. From one group of onlookers, a man burst free in an effort to approach the president. He was immediately grabbed by a security guard and blocked by one of the remaining Secret Service men.

  When Underwood saw who it was who’d tried to intercept him, there was an immediate expression of dismay on his face. Nevertheless, he ordered the agent to stand aside and allowed Hy Hasken to come forward.

  “What in the devil are you doing here?” the president said angrily. “You’re supposed to be on the press plane on your way back to Washington.”

  Without flinching at the president’s tone, Hasken stood his ground. “Morrison said I could have an interview with you or him about the China trip,” Hasken said. “Since Morrison is giving the interview to the other correspondents on the press plane, I thought I’d stay behind and try for an exclusive interview with you.”

  “No way,” said Underwood with rising fury. “I’m much too busy for that.”

  “Mr. President, Lampang wasn’t on your agenda—”

  “It wasn’t because I hadn’t intended to be here. An emergency came up.”

  “Business or pleasure?”

  “Certainly not pleasure,” said the president heatedly. “This is a matter of state.”

  “I’d be curious to know…”

  The president had been moving through the lobby, with Hasken beside him. Now the president suddenly stopped and turned on the journalist.

  “Hasken, when have you had enough? The last time you pulled something like this, you invaded my privacy; tried to prevent me from having a day’s vacation. You succeeded in showing President Noy in a close-up in the worst way, dressed in a sarong, which made both of us appear frivolous and was entirely misleading. Now you’re trying to invade my privacy again, and I won’t let you.”

  “Mr. President, my job is to cover you, wherever you go. I’m merely fulfilling an assignment, as I’m sure you are. I hope you’ll be more understanding.”

  “I just don’t want you near me,” the president flared. “I have more things on my mind than a ridiculous press interview. Just stay out of the way, and keep out of sight while I’m here. Thank you. Good-bye to you—and, I might add, good riddance!”

  In his suite at the Oriental Hotel, Underwood began to unpack his traveling bags, and then stopped doing so. He had no idea how long he would be here—an hour, several hours, a day or more. The thing to do as swiftly as possible was to find out why he had been summoned and what was going on.

  He telephoned Chamadin Palace, asked for President Noy’s office, and got Marsop.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” said Marsop. “We need you.”

  “What’s going on?” Underwood wanted to know.

  “Can you come right over,” Marsop asked, “or would you prefer I come to you?”

  “I’ll be right over,” said Underwood.

  A half hour later he was in Chamadin Palace and was escorted to Noy’s office. Shown inside, he was surprised to see that Marsop was not alone. Noy’s son, Den, was with him.

  Underwood shook hands with the boy.

  “How good to see you, Den.”

  “Good to see you, Mr. President.”

  Marsop came forward and took Underwood’s hand. “I’m glad you’re here, Mr. President.”

  “I came as quickly as I could,” Underwood responded.

  “I can’t tell you how much we appreciate that,” said Marsop. “Please sit down.”

  Underwood took a seat and surveyed the office. He saw that he was alone with Marsop and Den. The swivel chair at the executive desk was empty.

  “Where’s Noy?” Underwood asked.

  With difficulty, Marsop found his voice. “She’s been kidnapped.”

  Underwood was plainly shocked. He had not known what to expect, but this least of all.

  “Kidnapped?” he repeated incredulously. “Noy’s been kidnapped? Why? By whom?”

  Marsop held up his hands to indicate he had no satisfactory answer. “We don’t know by whom. We can take an educated guess, but it is not a certainty. As to why, that is easier. Noy’s captors allowed her to speak to me on the telephone. She instructed me to tell the nation she will not run for election.”

  “That’s outrageous!” Underwood exploded. “I expected her opposition to be unhappy. I did not expect them to go this far!”

  “They are serious,” said Marsop.

  “What happened? Tell me from the beginning. ”

  Marsop pointed to Den on the sofa. “It started with Den early yesterday afternoon.”

  Underwood came about in his chair. “What happened, Den? Can you tell me?”

  The young man’s reply was negative. “I get mixed up, maybe because I’m scared. It is better Marsop tell you.”

  Underwood directed his attention to Marsop. “All right, you tell me.”

  Marsop nodded. “Very well. Noy takes her son to school when she can. Yesterday morning she decided to do so. She took him in the Mercedes with Chalie driving.”

  “Who is Chalie?”

  “The chauffeur. He was the family’s driver before Den was born, when Prem was still alive.”

  “He is reliable?”

  “Thoroughly. He had no part in this, as you will see. Anyway, they left Den off at the school, and then they drove back to the palace. Chalie was assigned to pick up Den at the school, as he did every day at two o’clock. Chalie returned Noy to the palace, and then went to park in the underground garage. Someone was hiding there, and struck him a blow on the head and knocked him unconscious. We found him later. He’s alive, but with a fractured skull.”

  “Then another driver replaced him in the Mercedes.”

  “Yes and no. Another driver, but in a
Mercedes that was a replica of the one in the garage. This car was waiting for Den when he got out of school. With his three best school friends he came across the school yard and jumped into the car, as he did every day. Only after he had been driven away from the school did he realize he was with another driver and something was wrong.”

  Underwood looked at the boy. “So you were abducted first. Any idea where they took you, where you were going?”

  Den made a face. “No, except the driver turned a different way.”

  “A different way?”

  “We always turned left to go to the palace. This driver turned right.”

  “Then what did you see?”

  Marsop interrupted. “Den could not see a thing, Mr. President. Apparently a man was hidden on the floor in the rear. He jumped up, climbed the front seat, and blindfolded Den.”

  “So he couldn’t see where he was headed?” said Underwood.

  “Only that it took maybe twenty minutes. It’s hard to know exactly.”

  “So maybe twenty minutes,” Underwood said to the boy.

  “I could not know,” said Den. “It felt like longer.”

  Underwood understood. “It would if your eyes were covered.”

  Marsop went on to explain that the boy’s blindfold was removed after they had him inside what Den guessed was a second-story room. The room resembled a living room, sparsely furnished, and there were four men in army uniforms in it.

  Underwood listened, seeking some clue. There were none. The abductors had not been amateurs.

  “Then they called Mother,” said Den. “They told me I could see my mother again if she did as she was told.”

  “Could you hear what they told her?”

  “She was not there. They talked to Marsop. I heard a little. About coming to some place alone to be traded for me.”

  Underwood gnawed his lower lip. “Did Marsop think they were lying about having you?”

  “I guess so, because one of them with a deep voice said Marsop wanted to hear me, hear me speak. They took me to the phone. They said I could say, ‘Marsop, I am here.’ They told me if I said anything else, they would kill me. I was scared. I did what they told me.”

  “And Marsop knew that it was you they had?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  Underwood confronted Marsop again. “Tell me how the exchange took place.”

  Marsop described how Noy managed to leave Chamadin Palace in her cook’s clothes, undetected and alone. Then he explained how she arrived at the designated corner and was baited with the release of Den, and added that before she could follow him, two men grabbed her and took her away. “Then she was forced to call me.”

  “What she had to say was very clear?”.

  “It was exact. Obviously she had been rehearsed in advance.”

  “Did she sound frightened?”

  Marsop offered a ghost of a smile. “You know her. She does not frighten easily. Noy sounded quite calm.”

  “Repeat for me the terms of her release once more.”

  “She will not run for election against Nakorn. I am to announce it on national television tomorrow evening. I am to say she is very ill, too ill to run. I am to say that the election, at her request, is to be held in one week.”

  “And after that?”

  “After Nakorn is elected, Noy will be released.”

  Agitated, Underwood rose and began to pace. “Do you believe that, Marsop?”

  “Why not?”

  “You may be naive.” Underwood gave Den a quick glance and returned to Marsop and said in an undertone, “They may see fit not to release her.”

  Marsop had not even considered such a possibility. “Not release her?”

  Underwood dipped his head in assent. “That’s right. She could be an embarrassment to her captors. Speak out. Tell how she was coerced.”

  “Would anyone consider this kidnapping to have been possible?”

  “Enough to put Nakorn in trouble, give him real opposition.”

  Marsop was helpless. “But what would they do with her?”

  Underwood glanced at Den, who had begun to whimper, and said, “You know.”

  “They would do such a thing? Even if we met their terms?”

  “The stakes are high, Marsop. Tell me, when Noy spoke to you, how did you know she wanted me here?”

  “She did not mention you by name, of course.”

  “Of course not. She couldn’t.”

  “She suggested that I get someone from the outside to visit the palace and confirm that she was ill.”

  “You’re sure she meant me?” asked Underwood.

  “Who else from the outside could she mean—especially since you were relatively nearby, in China?”

  Underwood stood still, briefly puzzled. “What did she think I could possibly do?”

  Marsop threw up his hands. “I have not the faintest idea. Perhaps your importance and arrival here would give her captors pause about what they were up to.”

  Underwood was doubtful. “No one knows I am here.”

  “Tomorrow your press will have it in print. Not why you are here, but that you are here. Also, spies—our army has endless spies—will know of your arrival in Lampang and checking into the hotel. It will be known everywhere.”

  “Do you think my presence in Visaka could influence Noy’s captors?”

  “Personally, I do not think so,” admitted Marsop. “However, you do have a relationship with Noy. She regards you as clever. She might guess you will start looking for people who could have some idea who’s holding her captive and how she might be rescued.”

  “Looking for people,” Underwood mused. Suddenly he sat up and snapped his fingers. “There might be someone.”

  “Someone?”

  “Percy Siebert.”

  “The head of your CIA station in the United States Embassy?”

  “Yes, Siebert. He knows Noy. He was with me when I brought him to Noy to speak of her husband’s death.”

  “Of course.”

  “Furthermore, he has countless other contacts in Visaka. He might be the direction to head for. He might give me a clue about where to start.”

  “You will see Siebert?”

  “As soon as possible.” Underwood crossed to Noy’s swivel chair behind her desk and moved a black telephone closer. He dialed the United States Embassy in Visaka.

  An operator answered.

  “Percy Siebert, please,” said Underwood. “Who is this, may I ask?”

  “The president of the United States.”

  The operator’s voice was uncertain. “The president?”

  “You heard me,” Underwood snapped. “I must speak to Siebert at once.”

  “He’s out of the city, sir. I do not know his movements. I do not know where he can be reached. He will be back in the embassy in the morning. I can give him a message, sir.”

  “You give him this message,” said Underwood. “Tell Siebert the president of the United States called and wants to see him at the Oriental Hotel bright and early tomorrow morning.” Then with emphasis Underwood added, “Tell him it is top priority. I must see him as soon as possible.”

  It was early in the morning as Matt Underwood gulped a quick breakfast and awaited the arrival of Percy Siebert.

  A knock on the door brought in Secret Service Director Frank Lucas and two of his agents instead.

  “Your visitor is outside,” said Lucas.

  “Send him in,” said Underwood.

  Lucas said, “Well and good, but I’d like to leave two of my agents in the adjoining room.”

  The president’s response was emphatic. “I’m about to have a private talk with my CIA station head in Visaka. I prefer to have no one within listening distance, certainly not closer than the corridor outside.”

  “Well, I’d prefer—” Lucas began.

  “I’d prefer nobody around.” Underwood cut him off. “This is the CIA, and I don’t want a word overheard. All that! want to know is that you’
ve swept this room clean and the other rooms as well.”

  “They’re clean, Mr. President. No bugs. You can speak freely.”

  “Good,” said Underwood. “You and your agents post yourselves outside. When you’ve done so, send Percy Siebert right in.”

  While Lucas and the agents backed out, Underwood tried to organize what he would say to Siebert when the CIA man arrived.

  In a minute Siebert was in the sitting room.

  The president pushed his breakfast tray aside, rose, and extended a hand to the CIA man.

  “Good to see you here again, Mr. President,” said Siebert. “This took me by surprise. Your message indicated there is some urgency about meeting.”

  “There is,” said Underwood. “Take that chair.”

  Siebert sat down, alert and wondering, and Underwood pulled up another chair opposite him.

  “This concerns President Noy, once more,” said Underwood. “The last time I brought her up with you, it was a personal matter, a defense of myself. This time it is more serious.”

  “What is it?”

  “Do you know that President Noy is missing?”

  “Missing? I’m afraid I don’t understand you.”

  Underwood studied Siebert’s countenance to try to detect any contradiction in what he heard and what he already knew. He decided that Siebert was genuinely bewildered.

  “Noy has been kidnapped,” said Underwood flatly.

  Siebert’s eyes bulged. “I can’t believe that.”

  “You’d better believe it because it’s true.” He continued to study the CIA man. “I was sure you’d know something about what happened.”

  Siebert was still astonished. “This is the first I’ve heard of it.”

  “I thought the CIA had its finger on everything.”

  “I wish that were true. It isn’t. It’s a fallacy of fiction. We try to know a good deal, and we do know a good deal, but we’re only as good as our sources. No one even hinted at a kidnapping. What happened to Madame Noy?”

  Crisply Underwood began to outline what he knew. He started with the call to Beijing from Marsop. “She wanted me here, so I came at once.” Underwood then recounted what he’d learned from both Marsop and Den Sang. He backtracked briefly to explain how the kidnapping had come about. He spoke of the abduction of Den, of the trade for Noy, and of Noy’s phone call to Marsop, ordering him to withdraw her from the election to assure her safe release.