Assignment Star Stealers

by Edward S. Aarons

Olliver was fifty, sixty feet away, moving fast in the pale night. There came the wailing cry of a muezzin from a minaret nearby, suddenly amplified by an electronic speaker until the notes lifted and fell like the wash of a heavy sea. The call to evening prayers was repeated from all over the city. Durell ran across the loose stones of the roof, above the balconies that overlooked the courtyard. He smelled the fragrance of blossoms somewhere, and seemed to smell Olliver's haste and fear.

  There was a clattering of heels on iron, leading him to a set of stairs down the back of the building to an alley. Durell started down as Olliver reached the bottom. He was halfway down when Olliver darted into the dim recesses of a stable doorway. Durell swung over the rail and dropped the rest of the way, keeping his knees loose. He rolled over, came up on his feet, and moved into the darkness. A radio played somewhere. The muezzins had finished their calls to prayer. He heard the movement of animals, the clop of a tiny hoof; he smelled donkey dung and straw and made out the dim shapes of the little beasts in their stalls. He did not see OUiver.

  Then something heavy whizzed out of the dark and missed his head by a hau* and clanged on the cobblestones outside. OUiver's shadow appeared for a moment against the far doorway, and Durell plunged after him into another courtyard. Geraniums bloomed in huge clay jars. A thin trickle of water made music in a stone basin. He flattened against the wall beside the iimer stable door. Ol-liver had vanished. One of the donkeys snorted. A woman called out from a lighted window above him. There was a murmur of sound from beyond the wall, a clatter of copper, the sudden call of a sweetmeat vendor, the beUs of a water seller.

  The gate to the street was suddenly yanked open and Olliver darted through. Durell was after him instantly. There were shops, alcoves, a small square with a central fountain, people, the smell of a food stall, the calls of merchants. He saw a woman tourist standing and staring, her face outraged, and he plimged past her to glimpse OUiver's striped shirt pressing violently through a knot of Arabs at the comer. He ran for him, turned the comer, swore softly as a dozen sheep tended by a young boy blocked his way. The boy grinned and pointed to his left. Olliver was dodging under the awning of a shop, knocking over a display of fruit. There were angry shouts from aU over the place. A man limged into his way, fists up. Durell sidestepped and kept going.

  Olliver ran up an outside flight of stone stairs again, almost on all fours. Durell was only a dozen steps behind him now. In the lamplight, Olliver looked back at him, yellow teeth bared. There was louder shouting from the people in the souk now. Olliver reached the top of the steps and disappeared. Durell reached the same spot seconds later. A heavy boot kicked for his head, missed. OUiver's breath hissed and bubbled in his throat. His face was a death's head. He tumed and ran over the roof, heading back toward his own house.

  There was a gap of six feet between the two houses. Olliver jumped, almost missed, clung for an instant by toes and fingers, then recovered and staggered on toward his stairway. E>urell was now only a step behind. The man spun suddenly, his fist lashing, and Durell felt his head ring with the blow; but he caught Olliver by the sleeve of his silk shirt, which ripped, then held. He yanked Olliver off balance and Olliver's sleeve tore away completely and the man scrambled free. He caught up a stone pot on the edge of the roof and threw it at Durell. Light exploded behind his eyes. He went down to his knees and Olliver booted him savagely in the ribs, then aimed for his groin as he rolled and took the kick on his hip. He tried to get up, aware of chagrin, dismay, sudden defeat. Olliver gave a choking laugh.

  "Stupid, Sam. You were stupid."

  Durell's head rang with pain. His breath burned in his throat. He saw death in Olliver's cadaverous face.

  He came to his feet somehow, his shoulders slamming into the other's belly with one last effort. Olliver suddenly screamed. The scream went on and on and Olliver backed away from him, his eyes circled with white terror. His mouth opened, closed, opened to let a gush of blood come over his lips and down his chin. Durell stood still, watching the man rise on his toes and step backward. He was only a few feet from the edge of the roof. Behind him was the courtyard where he had enjoyed his enormous meals and his servants. There was a low coping, and Olliver, still facing him, tripped backward and was suddenly gone, one last cry tearing at the starry sky.

  There was a flat, dull sound as his body struck the tiled floor of the courtyard below.

  Durell turned slowly.

  The little girl, Falani, stood in the shadows on the roof. She still held the gold-handled scimitar in both small hands. She looked pathetic in her ragged yellow dress.

  She smiled. It was the first time Durell had seen her smile.

  "Is he dead?" she asked.

  "Thank you, Falani."

  Blood dripped from the curved blade of the ornate scimitar. She said, "I always wanted to kill him. He was a terrible man. Am I free now?"

  "Yes, you're free, Falani."

  "You have helped me. I am grateful. Am I not yours, now, Si Durell?"

  "No. You belong to yourself, Falani."

  The house was quiet except for the .singing of the brightly colored finches on the balcony outside the room. The girl had vanished on silent feet. Durell pulled aside the panel of blue faience and found Olliver's safe. Falani had whispered the combination to him before she slipped away. Durell got the door open without difficulty. The money was there—that which was stolen from Jimmy Dodd, and his own, which had been taken from the hotel safe at Agadir.

  It seemed like just so much paper. He found a suitcase up in the attic room and filled it with the currency and locked it and listened to the birds singing in the evening dark. Upstairs again, he carefully dismantled the radio Olliver had used, opened the files, and made a small fire of the K Section code books and records.

  Then he went downstairs again. He felt as empty as the house.

  The finches sang.

  He went out on the balcony and looked at their small, bright shapes hopping about in the big cage, and then he opened the door for them and set them free.

  35

  He had almost slept the clock around, except for waking now and then to find Amanda's silken body beside him. Then he would roll over and take her in his arms for a time and then he slept again. Amanda kept laughing softly and saying, *'I'm glad all your bumps and bruises don't inhibit you fhaf way, Sam, darling."

  Dickinson McFee had left for the airport at Inezeane at four o'clock that afternoon. A special DC-3 had been sent for him from Rabat, and from there he was due to hop to the Continent and transfer back to his headquarters in Washington. The small grav man had permitted himself a small smile of satisfaction before he left.

  "Take a few days off, Samuel. You will need your strength. I believe—ah—there is something developing that mav need your talents. I rather wish you could have regained some of Von Handel's files—but, no matter. I'm sure Richard will recover soon enough, and be able to reconstruct them."

  "I hope he doesn't," Durell said. "It might upset the applecart."

  "I know what you mean. The balance of power in this violent w^orld teeters on the edi^e of the sharpest of knives. Well, we shall see. It may well be that Richard will find another outlet for his undoubted talents."

  The late afternoon in Agadir was cool and sunnv. The sea wind over the bay at the mouth of the Oued Sous blew the heavv draperies softly over Durell's wide and comfortable bed. Several hours of long soaking in the tub had eased most of his aches and pains. There were bright umbrellas on the shining beaches around the bay, and the villas and hotels glistened like a handful of su^^ar rub^s on the hill of the Founti quarter. A gleaming white Norwegian cruise ship lay at anchor in the blue bay.

  Amanda came out of the bathroom, tall and proud in her nakedness, and slid on the bed on her stomach beside him and then leaned on one elbow and let her thick red hair brush his face, and then she leaned down and kissed him.

  "Sam, you've brought me back to life. I'll always mourn for Han, but now I look to the future,
and not back into the past. I think I'm in love with you, Sam."

  "You'd have come back sooner or later, Amanda. You like being the real head of HCI, don't you?"

  "Yes, I think I do."

  "Power does strange things to people."

  "It doesn't change anything of the way I feel toward you."

  "Gratitude?" he asked.

  "Love," she said.

  She lowered her weight upon him, her long green eyes gleaming, and he put his arms around her and held her tight for a long time.

  Later, she said, "You're somewhere else, darling."

  "Hmmm?"

  "The proverbial penny for your thoughts."

  "I was thinking of Olliver."

  "You hated that, didn't you?" .

  "It's difficult for me to see how a man can betray his trust that way. I don't mean to make a patriotic speech, and I admit it's happened to other men before this, but it bothers me.""

  "All of your work bothers me, darling," she said. She sat up on the bed, her breasts proud, and shook her long hair back. She drew a deep breath and sighed, expelling the air with a little puff of her lips. "Sam?"

  "Hmmm?"

  "Do you know what I'm thinking?"

  "Yes."

  "I want you to get out of your business."

  "Yes."

  "You will?"

  "No."

  "Sam, we'd be apart so much, I'd be so worried about you, while you were chasing terrible people all over the world, living in such danger all the time. You've done your share now, haven't you?"

  "I don't know," Durell said.

  "You were almost killed this time. Several times. How much longer can you keep taking these terrible chances?"

  "I don't know," he said again.

  "Don't you want a quiet life, a home, a woman—me, of course . . ." She grinned, but her green eyes were solemn. "Peace and stability and the good life, nothing to worry about, no money problems—goodness, they tell me I'm one of the richest women in the world, now. You could get into the HCI business—"

  "I have a business, Amanda, a job. I don't want you to buy me Stephenson's executive vice-presidency."

  "Sam, you misunderstand me. You're so darned proud. I know it would be difficult for you to leave K Section. There would be all sorts of security problems. They wouldn't want to let you go. But I could use influence. I'm not without some power in Washington, you know."

  "I know."

  "What's the matter with you, darling?" She sounded just the smallest bit annoyed. "I think I'm making you a good offer. Financial security, a position of importance— and me." She put her hand on his thigh. "Safety, and a normal life together . . ."

  "I'm not cut out for it, Amanda."

  "Do you still think I—I feel anything for Steve?"

  "No. But I don't think you and I could make it, Amanda. All this is wonderful—" He made a gesture about the room—"and I'm grateful for everything. But I've lived in a special kind of world for too many years to change it now for a velvet-lined, plush existence as Amanda Coppitt's handpicked man."

  "It wouldn't be like that at all!" she protested.

  "Yes, it would. You've changed—or perhaps you've become the person you always really were. The little girl in pigtails on the dock at Bayou Peche Rouge married high, wide, and handsome. Nothing wrong in that. You loved Hannibal, and you made him happy, I'm sure. Then, when he was killed, you wanted to give up everything. But it didn't take much—only me—to bring you back to the realities of your life and what you wanted to do with it. As you said, you're wealthy. And you're powerful. You could buy me any sort of immunity from Washington, if I quit K Section. They wouldn't really let me go, though, ever. I know too much. And there are people in the world who wouldn't forget about me, either. Colonel Skoll, for example. Or some very vindictive Chinese, in Peking. I'm not sp much worried about all that. But I'd be worried about you. Not all your wealth and power could protect you from eventual reprisal. They'd try to get at me, through you. But it's not even that," he said thoughtfully.

  "Sam, I love you. I want you."

  "I'm not a piece of merchandise you can simply buy, Amanda.'*

  She was angry, drawing away from him across the bed. "That's what really concerns you, doesn't it!"

  "No. I just happen to like my job," he said.

  She controlled herself and drew another deep breath. "Will you at least think about it, darling?"

  "Of course."

  It was dusk. He watched Amanda's sleeping face. In her sleep, it was still set with determination. The sun set over the Atlantic, and the beaches around the bay and at the foot of Foimti Hill were empty now. The muezzins cried. There was a clatter of silver and glassware from the terrace restaurant of the Auberge de la Plage. Durell moved with care, so she wouldn't be wakened. His watch read five to seven. He had been listening, and he heard the regular Royal Air Maroc DC-3 take off and circle over the bay. There was a smell of oranges in the land breeze that blew now. He slid out from under Amanda's long, tanned leg and got out of bed. He dressed quietly and quickly. It took only a few moments to pack his bag. She still slept. A small smile touched her lips.

  A taxi took him out along the river road toward the airport at Inezgane. Most of the airport lobby was empty. There was only one figure in the tiny new restaurant. Out on the landing strip, a single plane stood as if waiting. He watched the man in the restaurant turn as he walked in, and he didn't know whether to laugh or swear.

  "Hello, General," he said.

  McFee nodded his small gray head and gestured toward the waiting plane out on the airstrip.

  "Let's go," McFee said. ''What took you so long?" "A little rest and recreation." "As long as you didn't make it permanent." "Did you think I really would, sir?" "No. That's why I waited, Samuel. Come along. There's more work to do."

  This book made available by the Internet Archive.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Pages

  Back Cover