Chapter Twelve
OUR MAN FRANCIS, alias Bill Menander, was still on the job when we squeezed ourselves into my rented Sprite and departed from the hotel parking lot with some pretty sports-car sound effects. I heard Isobel laugh.
"What's funny?" I asked.
"This car. It's hardly the inconspicuous vehicle one would expect a hush-hush operative to choose, except on TV."
"Maybe that's just why I picked it," I said. "What's your feeling on the subject of porpoises?"
"What?"
"Porpoises," I said. "Large, fishy-looking mammals with superior intelligence. According to one theory, when the human race finally succeeds in blowing itself up, the porpoises will take over, if there's anything left to take. I ask because I learned at the aquarium that there's a park way out around Diamond Head somewhere that has trained porpoises putting on acts."
I glanced in the mirror. The Datsun was right behind us as we headed out Kalakaua Avenue, named after one of the Hawaiian kings who came after they'd run out of Kamehamehas. The sidewalks were crowded with pretty young girls in muu-muus and young military characters in uniform. Just one transport-load had given Waikiki a very martial air.
I said, "For various reasons, not all ichthyological, I'd kind of like to drive out that way."
Isobel said dubiously, "Well, I'm not really terribly fond of fish, except to eat. That goes for mammals masquerading as fish. However.." She hesitated. "We're being followed, aren't we?"
"That's right."
"And you want to run the man around a bit?"
"More or less. He hasn't had his exercise for the day. I'd hate to let him get soft and lazy."
"Then by all means let's go look at porpoises." Isobel hesitated, and said in a different tone, "Matt?"
"Yes?"
"If… if I'm going to help you, if we're going to work together, shouldn't I know a few things? Like who that man behind us is, and whom he represents?"
It wasn't an unexpected question. She'd asked more or less the same thing last night and I'd put her off; now I had to make the decision for good. I had a three-way choice. I could take her into my confidence and tell her the whole truth, as far as I knew it, about Monk's treachery and my plans to combat it. Or I could stick to my official cover story, tailoring it to fit the new situation. Or I could continue to play the security gambit, even if it meant getting nasty.
Stalling, I said, "I can tell you who he probably is. I figure there's about a fifty-percent chance he's the guy who clobbered you last night."
"That still doesn't really identify him," she protested.
"No," I said. "It doesn't, does it?"
"He could be what you claim to be, a U.S. agent."
"He certainly could," I said.
"And you could be a Russian spy."
"No question about it," I agreed. The decision had kind of made itself as we talked, and I went on, "But you know one thing I am for sure."
She frowned slightly. "What's that?"
"Santa Claus," I said. "Santa Claus with a bagful of money, which I'm willing to divide with you in return for services rendered. Services, Mrs. Marner. Not questions. Is my signal getting through, Mrs. Marner? Do you receive me clearly?"
I saw the muscles tighten along her jaw. Her voice was small and stiff when she spoke, "You don't have to be offensive, Matt."
I said, "And you don't have to be inquisitive, Isobel. Just do as you're told and keep your questions to yourself and we'll get along just fine." I glanced at her. "Now you're mad," I said. I shrugged. "Okay. It was just a wild idea of mine, anyway. I'll take you back to the hotel."
She caught my arm as I started to shift gears for the turn. "No," she said.
"Make up your mind," I said. "This is the point of no return, as the fly-boys call it."
"You're an infuriating man," she said. She drew a long breath. "I dote on infuriating men. I think. Keep driving."
I drove on, feeling kind of ashamed of myself for cracking the whip and of her for letting me get away with it, but at least we'd settled the point. When you came right down to it, I couldn't very well have told her I was using her to create a diversion for a girl named Jill; and any other answer would have involved too many complicated lies..
The porpoises were kind of scary. I don't really like to see bright fishes, even when they're mammals. It doesn't seem quite natural. It was just as well for my peace of mind, therefore, that the cast included a couple of extremely pretty native-type girls in sarongs. They helped take my mind off the intellectual attainments of the dolphins.
After the show, we went back to the parking lot where we'd left the car. It was a rambling area carved out of a hillside with a lot of grass and bushes and trees. I closed the car door on Isobel and leaned down to speak to her through the open window.
"Okay, here's where you get your first lesson in secret agentry. There's a very useful technique known as patient waiting. Let's see how good you are at it. I'll be back."
I walked around the car, bent over as if to get in, and opened and closed the door loudly. Crouching there, I checked my gun and my little drug kit. Then, keeping low, I dove into the bushes, made my way through them, and circled wide up the hill. The approach was easy. He was sitting with his back to the slope. Every so often he'd lean forward impatiently to look around the tree where he was parked so he could see the red sports car, but it never occurred to him to look behind. I slipped between the cars and stuck my gun in his ear.
He gave a sudden start and was very quiet. "Eric?"
"That's right," I said. "Eric. Keep looking straight ahead. What's your code name, punk?" I knew it, of course, but I wasn't supposed to, so I had to let him make it official. He hesitated. "Come on, come on. We're colleagues, aren't we? It's all in the family."
"Francis," he whispered.
"And what name are you operating under, Francis?"
"Menander. Bill Menander. Look, I don't know what you're trying to do…
"That's right, you don't know. But I do. And I'll be big-hearted and tell you. I'm trying to impress upon you that it's a dangerous life you've chosen, and that you don't want to take unnecessary risks and make it more dangerous. Understand? Now, me I don't worry about. The day I let a punk like you worry me will really be the day. Play any kind of games you like with me. Or try. But the lady gets left strictly alone. No more searches. No more gun barrels alongside the head. No more anything."
"But-"
I didn't let him interrupt. "If I see her being followed, if I spot a tap on her phone, if I stumble on a mike in her room, if there's the slightest sign that somebody's been looking through her stuff again or reading her mail, guess what'll happen?" He didn't speak. I nudged him with the gun. "I spoke to you, punk. Guess!"
"What… what will happen?"
"You'll die," I said. "That's what will happen."
"But if somebody else…"
I said harshly, "That's your worry, not mine. The lady is a relative of mine. Just a relative, nothing more. She came to Hawaii to have a good time. She's going to have a good time without being bothered by a lot of U.S. undercover creeps. You keep them out of her hair, hear?"
"But I'm not responsible for.. What if I can't help…
"Then I just won't be able to help, either. I'll just have to kill you, punk."
He said with sudden strength, "You're bluffing. You wouldn't dare..
"The name is Eric, punk. Ask around. Check with the Monk. He'll tell you what I don't dare, and it won't take any time at all. The list is very short, punk. Very short indeed!"
He licked his lips. "Don't call me punk!"
"Why the hell not? You are a punk, just a crummy, bleeding-heart punk with a big mouth. I've heard stories about the kids the Monk's been recruiting out here lately, shooting their mouths off all over the Islands. Like that kookie blonde female who thought she was Mata Han with wings on. Wanting me to weep with her for the woes of Asia, for Christ's sake!"
He cleared his throat. "Acc
ording to the record, you've been known to talk out of turn, too. On the same subject."
I said, "Yeah, and I'm damned ashamed of the company it puts me in. It's enough to make a man recant on the spot." I poked him with the gun. "But you pass the word. The lady's out of bounds. Or there comes a large hole in the head. Put your elbow on the windowsill… Up with it, punk! You try my patience, you really do!"
"What… what are you going to do to me?"
"I'm going to put you to sleep for about two hours. When you wake up, you can have a lot of fun trying to find us again. It will be good experience for you. Happy dreams."
I slipped the needle into him before he could protest, and gave him the dose. He turned his head against orders to look at me at last, wide-eyed and panicky. He started to speak, but whatever he'd been about to say, he never got out.
I caught him as he fell forward against the steering wheel and arranged him in the seat with his chin on his chest. I reached past him to get a straw hat with a flowered band that was lying beside him on the seat. I set this well forward on his head, covering most of his face, so that he looked like a man taking a nap, which he was.
Isobel received me coolly when I returned to the Sprite, acting as if she had no interest in where I'd been or what I'd done, but her indifference faded as we drove past the Datsun and she saw the man behind the wheel with his hat over his face.
"Did you… did you kill him?"
I said, "Bloodthirsty, aren't you? No, I didn't kill him. I gave him a couple of hours' sleep, that's all, a perfectly harmless injection." I glanced at my watch. "Well, we've got about an hour and a half to get to the airport, which is clear on the other side of Honolulu. I hope you're a fast packer. We'll keep our rooms at the hotel, if you can stand the expense. Just take enough clothes for a couple of days. I hope we can get seats on the damn plane."
She said tartly, "I won't spoil it by asking where we're going. You're having too much fun keeping me in suspense."
We talked no more, driving back to the Halekulani. I guess she was still mad at me. As for me, I guess I felt kind of guilty about what I'd just done to her. Because Monk wouldn't believe that she was merely one of my more attractive female relations. He'd think that story was too ridiculous to waste a moment on. And he certainly wouldn't heed my warning to leave her alone. On the contrary, I figured, he'd take it as a cue to give her special attention, and there was no telling what form it would take.
Well, that was, after all, what the woman was getting paid for, and well paid: attracting the special attentions of the Monk away from another girl, a girl who had work to do and was, I hoped, busily engaged in doing it.
Chapter Thirteen
WE CAUGHT THE late afternoon plane to Kahului with a few minutes to spare and even managed to get seats together. Taking off, we had a good view of Honolulu harbor from the air and caught a glimpse of the naval installations at Pearl Harbor to the west. I would have liked to know more about those. After all, that was where the Japs had struck in 1941. It wasn't inconceivable that the Chinese had hit on the notion of perpetuating a good old Oriental custom, with Monk's help.
We straightened out over the ocean and flew along in a more or less easterly direction past Waikiki and Diamond Head, discovering that what had looked like a solid mountain from the ground was actually an extinct volcano with a definite, hollow crater. There were more boats out than there had been that morning, but the seas around Oahu were still by no means crowded.
"Matt?" Isobel's voice indicated that, having punished me sufficiently, she was willing to stop being mad at me.
I turned from the window, reminding myself that I was still playing a role. My cover as an agent in disgrace killing time in the tropics hadn't, as far as I knew, greatly impressed anybody who really mattered-I'd never been as sold on it as the man who'd thought of it-but I couldn't just drop it without warning the opposition that I had something new and tricky in mind. And as a gentleman of enforced leisure, setting out to spend a couple of glorious Hawaiian days, and nights, in the company of an attractive woman, I wouldn't normally be paying a great deal of attention to the view.
Isobel asked, "Did we… did we make it, Matt?"
I frowned. "Did we make what?"
"Well, you were trying to lose them, weren't you? I mean, drugging that boy and dashing for the plane!"
I laughed. "Isobel, I'm afraid you're an optimist. You don't think that kid was the only one, do you? Pardon me for flattering myself a bit, but to keep watch on an old curly wolf like yours truly, you'd generally figure on using your shadows at least two deep, maybe three."
"You mean there's somebody else-"
"There's a hook-nosed gent four seats to the rear, a dark man in a dark business suit with a briefcase. I spotted him at the hotel this morning, using binoculars industriously. Apparently he's taken over the watch from our sleeping young friend. And you can bet there'll be somebody waiting to back him up when we get to Kahului, in case we should manage to ditch him, too."
"Then what in the world was the point of-" She checked herself, and held up her hand quickly. "AIJ right, all right! Don't bite. I withdraw the question. Just give the orders, Master, and they shall be obeyed. But may I ask where Kahului is, since I'll presumably learn that much when we land, anyway?"
"It's on the island of Maui," I said. Isobel looked blank. I grinned. "You should have done some homework before coming out here. Maul is the second island down from Oahu, just beyond Molokai. In addition to Kahului, where the airport is, and various other communities, it's got an old town on it called Lahaina. The whalers used to anchor in the roadstead and come ashore to get drunk and cohabit-I'm quoting the book-with the native girls, who were apparently both beautiful and willing. But the missionaries came along and spoiled everything. Now there are several luxury hotels just up the coast. You can still get all the liquor you want, I gather, but these days you have to bring your own girl."
Isobel's eyes narrowed slightly. "And I suppose we've got a reservation at one of these hotels?"
"That is more or less correct, ma'am," I said. "I called around while you were packing and found a place that wasn't full. But the word is reservations, plural. Two rooms. Just as chaste as can be, ma'am."
She regarded me for a moment, and smiled slowly. "All right, Mart. Thank you. I didn't mean to be stuffy, but I don't believe it was part of the final agreement.
Of course I did say I'd do anything. But I don't like to be taken for granted, in that respect. I want to be asked."
"I'll ask," I said. "Don't worry, if it becomes indicated, I'll surely ask. But regardless of how many beds actually get slept in by how many people, I'd like us to present a nice immoral image to the world. I hope you don't mind."
She shrugged. "Well, I'm not quite the society whore my husband likes to tell me I am, when he's in a mood to enumerate his many afflictions. On the other hand, I'm hardly pure enough to qualify as a Vestal Virgin tending the sacred flame, or whatever they tended. So by all means, let's tear my poor reputation to tatters, what's left of it."
On acquaintance, she showed a kind of humorous honesty that tended to overcome the first impression created by her arrogant mannerisms and snooty good looks. I was annoyed to find myself beginning to like her. It was about time, I told myself, that I learned to keep my affectionate nature under control. I was an agent on a mission, not a friendly puppy out for a romp. Still, a little precautionary briefing wouldn't hurt me and might help her.
"One suggestion," I said. "Or maybe you could call it a warning. I don't know how this will break. But you might just possibly wind up in an awkward spot with people asking questions. I don't expect it, but it could happen. If it does, I think you'll be best off if you just give them your straight sister-in-law act, without frills."
She asked calmly, "And what do I say about you, Matt? If I'm asked?"
"As far as I'm concerned," I said, "you can tell them anything you want. Anything you know."
She laughed. "T
hat's very generous of you. Since you've been very careful to see that I know hardly anything."
"You may be grateful for that," I said. "The less you know-the less you appear to know-the easier time you're likely to have. I suggest, as a guideline, the following story: you came to Hawaii to find the other heir to the Marner millions-well, million. Your husband doesn't know you're here. He wouldn't approve, of course, but you were desperate, you saw grim poverty ahead for you and Kenneth, and you hoped you could persuade your unknown brother-in-law to share the inherited wealth. It developed that you could, by falling in with certain lewd suggestions. Well, what your husband doesn't know won't hurt him, and for a quarter of a million, to paraphrase your own words, you'd spend a weekend with the devil in the hottest corner of hell. That's your story. Stick to it and don't elaborate on it at all."
She nodded. "It should be easy enough to remember."
"Don't kid yourself. Nothing's easy, when you're being interrogated. Just keep in mind that you simply don't know there's anything mysterious going on. You don't know that I'm anything but a rather crude and common character who married your husband's impossible sister, now fortunately dead, whose taste in men was always deplorable. You have no idea that I brought you to Maui for any purpose but to collect what you'd promised me, in a somewhat more intimate atmosphere than that of Honolulu. You're even a little insulted at the notion that I might have had an ulterior motive. Okay?"
"In other words, I play very dumb," she said. She hesitated. "Are they… apt to beat me?"
"To a bloody pulp," I said cheerfully. "That should at least keep you from being bored, Duchess. You were complaining of boredom, remember?"
She made a face at me. "It seems like a long time ago. Matt?"
"Yes."
"There's one question I have to ask. If I continue to go along with this, if I do what you tell me-"
"You want to know about the payoff? I don't know what it would take to make it legal, but if you want to write something, I'll be glad to sign it."
The Betrayers mh-10 Page 9
