He smiled as he sauntered past the pool. Grant was still cigar-smoking but holding Krystelle’s right hand. The girl looked staggering in a black silk brocade gown split to mid thigh, and mandarin collar which made her look like an Asiatic model. She had narrowed her eyes by the strategic placing of false eyelashes and extended them obliquely upwards with shadow until she almost looked Chinese. Her black pearls seemed to burn against the tawny skin and Frank saw a gleam of appreciation in Grant’s eye which showed that the man had recovered.
In fact, he thought sourly, he looked as though he had returned from a holiday, and whatever story Krystelle had told him must have been good, because there wasn’t one single wrinkle of tension. And Frank knew him well enough to be able to diagnose his mood at a glance.
He opened his bedroom door and looked on the girl on the bed. She was a gorgeous Creole and very, very accommodating. But right now she was fast asleep. And the fact remained that, in theory at least, she was one possible leak source which might yet matter.
He brooded for a moment, switched the radio on softly and turned on the bath. He would allow her to waken naturally and it was his bet that she would join him when he turned the shower on. But if she didn’t he would start singing and the noise would waken anybody once he got going with Figaro’s aria from The Barber.
Maybe even waken the dead!
He shivered slightly. His nerves had been turned by memory of swirling waters and snapping jaws.
Sharks were messy eaters.
And the Hell with them, he added briefly as he stepped into his bath.
Chapter Seven – ‘A short time may be for ever’
Krystelle and Grant rounded off a quiet evening by early bedding and intended to switch off the light long before midnight. They had wakened up dopey, but with an odd sense of elation which had persisted until later afternoon. Grant had then taken the precaution of taping his impressions in code and already it had been sent off to Professor Juin by air.
Until mid-evening he had felt that they were still operating blind and then a succession of messages had brought him up to date. The first had been a bouquet of flowers addressed to Krystelle ‘with love from Largo’ and the message stated that the order had been placed by telephone.
The flowers had done much to clarify a mess, and Grant again had cause to bless the Interflora code contrived by Miss Sidders and which simply could not be broken unless one had the key.
There were two Memoriams in the vase, which meant, with emphasis: ‘You must now move with maximal speed.’
One Miss Ireland said, through its orange salmon petals and creamy yellow reverse: ‘The Hong Kong party have drawn blank and rely on you.’
Two Gold Crowns underlined this by meaning: ‘The target of this operation is believed to be in your area.’
A single specimen example of Blue Moon clearly indicated ‘The Admiral and his party are now returning to their normal posts’ while three Dame de Cœur meant ‘The new drug takes top priority. All supplies must be destroyed.’ While the fact that there were three underlined the basic meaning of the bloom. Speed was essential and the message vital.
Rose Gaujard gave an unexpected twist to the situation. It was seldom used by the Department. But its meaning was explicit: ‘Kill all opposition without hesitation when opportunity occurs.’ And two Intermezzos underlined this by ordering: ‘Your two targets are the men already discussed’ which Grant knew pointed only to Ferguson and the Man from U.N.O.
The fragrant, satin pink petals of Eden Rose gave him authority to use any tactics in the book to achieve success and five specimen blooms of Vienna Charm meant that he himself was now within five miles of the target area. The rich, dark scarlet of a Suspense explained that this information had been obtained from top level sources, while the slender cherry buds of Sabine meant that a lesser light in the opposition had been not only captured, but made to talk. Two peach-pink Stellas said that this man had been captured in France, listed as country number ‘2’ in the code book, and the bi-colours of Tzigane rounded off the tale with a brief message ‘U.S.A. in the picture and will assist if necessary.’
The large sprays of maidenhair fern said that the opposition believed Grant really to be dead, while a separate bunch of freesias completed his briefing: ‘Leader of opposition expected to make brief visit to your area in the predictable future. Keep alert.’
Every bloom had been labelled, but Grant knew that an addendum would have to arrive before he could feel completely free to act at will. The Department believed in reducing chance margin to zero and confirmation would take the form of a spray of orchids delivered within two hours of receiving the first message.
It came, in fact, during an unusually early dinner, and the bell hop beamed with satisfaction at the size of a tip which reflected Grant’s own contentment.
Final confirmation came later that evening when he was taking a final stroll in the gardens. The newsvendor was persistent, but Grant bought a copy of Playboy only when the man whistled the opening bars of Die Fledermaus. The man then flashed a smile and bowed politely. ‘Swell popsies between the covers, saar, good bedside reading for you an’ the li’l gal heah.’
Krystelle looked at him curiously. She was not then in the secret and her manner was aloof. ‘Beat it,’ she said curtly. ‘With me around other popsies don’t figure.’
The man grinned wickedly. ‘But boy! I’ll bet you can play. See you, ma’am.’ He touched his hat to Grant and faded. Not even Krystelle was sure where he went. He simply faded. And Grant then knew that the professor had really been active because there was only one man in the Department who could act like that, and Winston could be dynamite.
It was good to know that there was still someone else to call on if necessary, and contact was simple: an order for Playboy placed through a phone number which he had been given as a final afterthought by Juin. ‘Just in case you need someone.’
Grant sauntered to the bedroom and carefully opened the magazine. Starting with Playboy After Hours a series of words had been underlined in order and when added up they told the story. An article on the C.I.A. fortunately gave a broad vocabulary to cover less usual words and the message was explicit.
‘Read it out,’ said Krystelle as she combed her hair. ‘We need a bit of organising. So let’s hope this helps.’
Grant scanned every column. Some words were separated by several pages which made reading difficult, but at last he smiled. ‘Then listen, honey chile.’
‘“The man we took is second top and was traced from the street where trouble started.” Meaning rue Méchain,’ said Grant. ‘Because that is where it really did start. So, continuing, the thing goes on: “we traced him to a nearby house where he was caught only because he had twisted an ankle coming down a long flight of stairs from the room where he had watched his chief and you. We gave him the usual treatment and he reacted to truth drugs. The politician we are after uses him from time to time and has enough dirt on him to operate using blackmail since the man is a sadist with other aberrations. But even such people speak the truth when drugged and he has said that the official who is his ultimate boss will visit your part of the world very soon. There is some need to give instructions about issue of drugs and it seems that the politician wishes to do this himself. So he must discuss procedure with the man you saw in prison and who will now also be in your area. The meeting is dangerous for both but it will be made possible by the politician arranging a stop-over on his way from Washington to South America. The two men may then meet in secret but you must get all passenger lists from all flights to make certain you don’t slip up.”’
Grant looked at Krystelle with a satisfied smile. ‘One has got to hand it to Miss Sidders. She also arranged this technique. But you may notice that this is quite an old Playboy. So I wonder how many they had to try before finding one with words in the correct order. And there’s another bit to come,’ he continued. ‘Listen.
‘“Our own top people are coming home. The
centre of activity is likely to be near yourself, so keep all eyes open and move fast.”’
Krystelle smiled briefly. She had been distrait all day and Frank’s phone call had created problems. It was common sense that David Grant must be told what had happened, even if he was sore about allowing herself to be gassed. Or even if he remembered how she had gassed him. Because he had made no mention of this after wakening and she was curious to know how much he remembered. She eyed him carefully. ‘But now, David, I’ve something important to say to you. How much do you remember after sniffing that drug thing?’
Grant shrugged his shoulders. ‘Nothing much. I just seemed to pass out.’
The girl paused. ‘I made you pass out. A shot of gas. You were getting drunk and I didn’t know how you’d react so it was safer to knock you cold.’
Grant wrinkled an eyebrow. ‘You’re joking.’
‘No.’ The girl sounded vaguely impatient. ‘Let’s stick to facts. I knocked you cold in case you ran amuck and I knew what I was doing because the stuff I used was harmless.’
Grant looked puzzled. ‘But you were flat out as well. How come?’
She chose her words carefully and slipped out of her normal semi-Caribbean patois. ‘I found that I had some dope as well but when it began to affect me I decided to play it safe, so I knocked myself cold too.’
Grant stared at her curiously. ‘But I wakened first. Where was your spray? That stuff works too fast for you to have put it away.’
Krystelle eyed him steadily. ‘I phoned Harry when I first began to feel queer. He came to the room and I gave him the box. So he’s now taking it to Paris and this drug must have some funny hang-over, because you’ve never asked about this and it’s important. Did you forget?’
Grant rubbed his eyes. He still felt a bit bumptious and slightly off-beam. ‘Forgotten, honey chile. No memory. Better tell me more. You seem to have been affected differently. How come your recollection is ticking normally?’
Krystelle’s mind was working at top speed. She had wriggled out of trouble—up to a point—and had got round the reason why she had gassed herself. Could she get round this one? ‘The powder was blown by a draught, but I was in the lee and missed most of it. Probably got a smaller dose. So I phoned Harry, explained things and he took the tin before I took the gas. Right now he’ll be nearer Paris than Miami and he’s handing it personal to the professor.’
Grant was listening intently. ‘Frank?’
‘He played watchdog under Harry’s orders until we were due to surface, but he got side-tracked when the captain and a deck-hand from that ship last night came in to bump us off.’
Grant’s senses were pricked for danger and he wondered only why the girl had waited so long before putting him wise.
‘Because I wanted you well first,’ she said. ‘And well enough to understand absolutely everything, because the set-up’s gotten complicated.’
‘So where are they now?’
Krystelle stared at him with an intensity which was almost frightening. ‘Frank’s a believer in doing things thoroughly. He shot them both, loaded them into a laundry basket and actually walked out pushing it. He then pinched a motor boat from the bay and fed them to a school of sharks out of range of any inquisitive binoculars. After that he went round the north side of the island, scuttled the boat and swam ashore without being seen.’
Grant smiled in spite of himself. He was now feeling like an amateur and didn’t like the sensation. ‘Any other bombshells?’
She nodded. ‘He says there’s a leak. Either the telephonist, Harry’s woman from Haiti or his own girl, the Creole.’
‘And how did the yacht people get on to him?’
Krystelle shook her head. ‘No idea. But both Frank and Harry feel that their local contact man has been pin-pointed. They figure that the box was planted last night to see if anybody rose to the bait. So now they’ve been taped, and from now on they’re working solo. No contact unless totally unavoidable.’
‘And of course we must have been taped as well,’ added Grant. ‘Else they wouldn’t have sent two men to bump us.’
Krystelle nodded briefly. ‘You got it, man. We’re sitting targets.’
Grant paused. ‘Any ideas?’
The girl smiled and crossed her legs, her housecoat riding high over curving thigh. It was time for making David feel just that little bit better. ‘None, man. I rely on you. This is your load of sorrow. We just help a li’l when you’re not around.’
‘I don’t seem to have been around much,’ said Grant bitterly.
The girl looked surprised. ‘I don’t get you. How come?’
Grant stood up and she slowly rose to face him, her arms rising to fall round his shoulders. ‘This is all news to me, and I wish I had known earlier. Why did you play it this way?’
The girl nuzzled her cheeks against his neck. ‘A man can’t face this sort of war unless he’s fit. And today you were sick. So I waited till you were back on form.’
‘While Frank and Harry carried the can?’ Grant was fighting not to sound sour.
The girl nibbled the lobe of his ear and felt him tense against her body. ‘They were only carrying on till you could gen them up. What else would you expect friends to do?’
‘But we sat there by the pool for over two hours while you knew that we were hot, that anyone could take a pot at us. Why?’
The girl tried again. ‘I figured we were safe there. And that later, when you knew, like now, you would sort things out.’
Grant smiled cynically. ‘Am I fit to sort things out?’
She nodded briefly and he felt her hair caress the side of his cheek. ‘You’re fit for mos’ anything, David. I’ll fit in and so will the others. We’re all just waiting.’
And then Grant remembered. They had done all that knowing almost nothing, because he had not made time to brief them fully, not even after almost forty-eight hours on the battlefield. It was high time to put things right.
‘Okay,’ he said at last. ‘You know a certain amount. And you’ve guessed a lot. You’ll even have figured out some answers from that Interflora message and the Playboy confirmation. But there are two things you may not know, and it’s up to you to pass them on to both Frank and Harry in any way you please. There are several targets: the U.N.O. official who has confused so many political angles over the past few years and the drugs which he is using to condition super-statesmen to do as he wishes. The U.N.O. man visits them and talks. All the world knows that. But they talk for part of the time behind closed doors, and the world knows that too. But it doesn’t know what he says or what he does, and can only guess his intentions by tracing the results of his work—which has at times been shocking even to the extent of causing hot wars.’
He paused and tried to condense his objectives. ‘Somewhere he both manufactures and packs two important drugs. So we must find the place and destroy it. But we must also find the list of persons in Embassies or the like who dose world leaders on signal from this U.N.O. character, and somewhere along the line we’ve got to remove him from this earthly scene having first grilled him about long-term intentions and anything else which may have a bearing on the situation. His words must be taped and then, no doubt, they’ll be played to a secret meeting of the Security Council or else to top men in the super-powers until they are convinced of the need to reconstitute the United Nations along more effective lines. All clear?’
The girl looked at him steadily. His eyes were now bright and she felt the difference in his personality. ‘Message received and understood,’ she said and snapped to attention.
He smiled slightly. ‘Cut it, Krystelle. You look too provocative when you do that and it’s time to scram. This is where we go underground. Any ideas?’
She knew when to speak, and hadn’t done, all that work to undo it by removing the initiative which Grant had begun to seize. ‘None, man. You’re the boss. Give.’
‘Cha-Cha Town,’ said Grant happily. ‘That seems to be near the ta
rget area. We’ll just mosey out of here and leave our stuff plus a cheque for payment in advance to cover a week or ten days, take a taxi to the Dorothea Beach Club, have a late snack and get organised. You’ll wear that reversible skirt and top under the most switched-on items of your wardrobe and I’ll do a Yul Brynner with jeans, open shirt, sandals and an ear ring in the left ear. Then back to town, kip on the front till dawn and then find quarters in some shanty in old shanty town. Okay?’
Krystelle vetted the plan and found that she couldn’t fault it. ‘But speak Spanish or sumpin’. Pretend you’re a Puerto Rican travelling a local bed warmer, and if police ask for papers say you lost them.’
Grant was now tying his bow, a midnight blue lace on top of black which sat well on his embroidered shirt. ‘Fix yourself, honey. And I’ll get reach-me-downs from the dressing room. Then move. See you at the pool.’
She looked at him curiously. ‘We stick together. See you all the time. Krystelle’s had enough. The opposition are too well organised to take chances. And if it’s okay by you we’ll call a taxi ourselves. Let’s keep telephonists out of it. There should be one at the door.’
Grant scribbled a cheque and left a note on the bed for reception. ‘To cover one week. We shall be at Dorothea Beach Club for a short time if messages arrive. Back soon.’
The girl glanced at the note and smiled. ‘We’re going for more than a short time, man.’ Her eyes were twinkling and she felt keyed up with a sense of expectation. Frank could be contacted on the phone, somehow and from somewhere. And if anyone could break their reverse Greek code she would be surprised. ‘Ready?’
He smiled. ‘The short time may be for ever—if we draw the wrong straw.’
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