Live, Love, and Cry

by George B Mair

  ‘Or a gimmick to lower morale.’

  ‘Then we breakfast with an easier mind.’ She pointed to the roller shutters. ‘And let’s lift these things. It may be a beautiful morning.’

  Grant unlocked the floor key, raised the shutters and was closing the lintel when the clang of his front-door bell snapped him to attention.

  ‘I’ll go,’ he said.

  The girl hesitated. ‘We’ll go together. I don’t fancy being left alone now that the windows are open. This place feels naked.’

  The bell rang for a second time and Grant slipped into his dressing gown.

  A figure was outlined behind the opaque glass and he almost consciously braced himself for action as he flung the door wide open.

  The man nodded briefly. ‘Sign, please. Recorded delivery.’

  The package was small and Grant stared at the spidery writing. Posted in W.1 the previous evening.

  Deirdre watched suspiciously and then broke a silence which had become oppressive. ‘The thing feels dangerous. What is it?’

  ‘God knows,’ he said at last. ‘But not many people know we’re here. And for sure it isn’t from the Department.’

  ‘Then . . . Zero?’ The girl’s voice was very quiet.

  ‘Maybe.’ But whatever it was he knew it would bear handling with kid gloves. A stethoscope remained from the old days and he collected it from his study. But the package was silent as the tomb. ‘Maybe something living. A scorpion or tarantula would be just one more surprise to keep us on the hop.’

  Bubbles came from around the parcel as the paper soaked to pulp in a basin, but after one cigarette Grant fished it out and snipped the string. The paper had been reduced to mush, but he cautiously unfolded layer after layer until he reached a rounded pill box.

  A visiting card had been folded across it and a message was scrawled along one side: To show that I mean business. He still won’t talk.

  Grant felt Deirdre’s breath hot on his neck as he prised open the sodden container. Cotton wool lay on the bottom and in the centre was a human eye. The steely blue-grey of the iris almost leered at them both from the table. The white sclera was streaked with dried blood, and fragments of muscle tissue showed how it had once been fixed inside a skull.

  The girl gripped Grant’s arm with fingers which bored into his flesh. ‘David!’ she whispered. ‘Oh my God, David! How can anyone be so cruel?’

  He looked at her steadily. ‘What colour are your father’s eyes?’

  ‘Greenish. Sort of.’

  ‘But not blue or grey?’

  ‘So look properly and tell me if it could have come from the Professor.’

  She stared at it for long seconds. ‘Maybe. But I don’t think so. Though death seems to do things to colour. The blue-grey might look different in some light. And when Dad was tired his eyes used to get cold. Like this, sort of. But I’m almost sure it’s not his.’

  The shock had knocked her sideways just as she had begun to recover her poise. And the day was only beginning. But it was beginning with Zero’s war of nerves paying dividends. ‘Snap out of it, Deirdre.’

  The phone again interrupted, and as he lifted the receiver a voice echoed tinnily through the kitchen.

  A car was sitting outside the house. They must go to it immediately. SATAN’s team were working on split seconds and if there was more than one minute’s delay after hanging up Professor Carpenter would be killed. There would be a case of clothes in the back if they were not yet dressed and food would be waiting at the other end. The minute started ‘as from now’.

  Grant moved fast. ‘This is it, honey. Get cracking. Wait for me in the hall and I’ll collect clothes. ’S early yet. No one’ll see us.’

  He flung everything he could see in the bedroom over his arm and dived for the front door carrying his shoes. The man had rocked Deirdre’s nerve with the second package and was giving them no time to stop or think. And the voice sounded as though it meant business.

  He hesitated. Deirdre’s Parker 61 was still in the bedroom. Cursing viciously, he swept back, lifted it with his left hand and streaked for the hall.

  The door opened with seconds to spare and he raced across the pavement to a vintage Rolls. The chauffeur saluted. ‘Glad you made it on time, sir. I was just about to call the boss you were late.’

  Deirdre wriggled into her dress and wrapped a scarf round her neck while Grant pulled the side blinds and struggled into trousers. ‘Say nothing,’ he snapped. ‘Not a word. This is the way they want to play it so leave everything till we get to the other end.’

  The girl forced a smile. ‘What you say, David.’

  The driver took no chances as the car cut north-west. ‘Plenty time, sir,’ he said over his shoulder as he drew up at a halt sign. ‘We don’t want tickets on this trip. But make yourself comfortable. You’ll find sandwiches behind the seat.’

  A Humber Snipe was sitting on their tail two hundred yards behind and as they drew into a straight stretch Grant spotted a green Mercedes in the distance.

  Deirdre held his hand tightly, and Grant froze as she began to tap out a message.

  Where in hell had she learned Morse?

  Maybe the Forces?

  But Morse! Of all things!

  He squeezed out a reply. Slow going! Though better than wires which could be tapped.

  The chauffeur was watching them in the driving mirror and he forced himself to kill the look of sheer satisfaction which must have lightened his face.

  ‘Play it cool,’ he squeezed. ‘Man watching. Dead-pan.’

  She tapped rapidly with her index finger, the nail almost scratching the palm of his hand. ‘Dead-pan it is. Where we going?’

  He watched the chauffeur still glancing at them in the mirror and pressed swiftly with his foot. ‘Father. This is the showdown.’

  ‘Do we come out alive?’ The girl’s hand was damp with sweat.

  He tapped with his foot. ‘Alive.’

  ‘What’s going on there?’ The chauffeur’s voice was hot with suspicion. ‘You two are restless. Sit at peace.’

  Grant slowly, almost without movement, pressed out one last message. ‘Play it cool and dumb. Leave action to me. Say nothing. And when we meet Zero don’t believe a word he says. The man will bluff. But he won’t kill until he’s got the story.’

  He lit a pipe and glanced at the driving mirror. The Mercedes had closed the gap. A young man was driving, and Grant’s jaw tensed as he recognised him. Tony was guarding his rear. Zero left nothing to chance.

  They were on A6 and approaching Harpenden. Six miles to Luton! A Caravelle was rising on the horizon and he guessed that SATAN had a hideout near the airport.

  But rendezvous was at an Austin Princess near the junction linking to M1. The Rolls drew alongside and the chauffeur smiled. ‘Get out. The boss wants a word. But no funny business.’

  Grant slipped into his jacket as he left the car and followed Deirdre to a layby. Zero was sitting inside, but a younger man stood at an open rear door and motioned towards the back seat. ‘Room for three. Get in. Luggage in the boot.’

  ‘Well!’ Zero’s voice was menacing.

  Grant looked at him coldly. ‘In a way it’s interesting to find someone using old-fashioned methods. I thought cutting people up went out years ago.’

  The man was wearing a black suit with pin-stripe trousers and a grey tie. A brief-case lay across his knees and his hands were moving restlessly around the handle. He looked a typical executive. ‘Maybe so. But it works.’

  The Rolls had turned back towards London and the Princess was edging on to A6. ‘And what are you wanting?’ Grant’s face was grim.

  ‘Listen very carefully,’ said Zero curtly. ‘We are going to Luton, where I have a private jet which will take us to a place where we can work at leisure. Professor Carpenter has already passed Customs formalities and is leaving as an invalid. In fact he is now in my own private cabin on board the aircraft.’

  He opened the brief-case. ‘Here are
two passports made out for yourselves. You will sign them under the names which have been arranged and do as I say. Any disturbance will lead to the Professor dying. And since the authorities know that he is sick they won’t be surprised. But measures have also been taken to keep my men posted about how you behave, so if you step out of line Mrs. Carpenter will also be destroyed. And finally,’ he added softly, ‘I have discovered that Miss Carpenter has a sort of boy friend in Scotland. So he too will be killed if there is trouble. Understand?’

  Grant scribbled a signature. ‘Where are we going? And why? These are standard questions at any airport.’

  ‘Tourism and business,’ said Zero shortly. ‘And to Egypt. You are an engineer about to visit the Aswan Dam.’

  ‘With no baggage?’

  ‘You left your flat under pressure. But two of my men made a quick visit and your clothes are now at the airport.’

  ‘So!’ Grant relit his pipe. ‘But why Miss Carpenter?’

  ‘Really, Doctor.’ Zero’s voice was heavily sarcastic. ‘Surely you know that I don’t want people running about who understand my business or know me by sight. At least,’ he added quietly, ‘not until I have put them into a position where they are harmless.’

  ‘And that is your only reason for kidnapping her?’

  Zero waved his hands expressively. ‘Her father has been obstinate. He might be more co-operative if his daughter was there to advise him.’

  ‘More torture?’

  ‘Dr. Grant,’ said Zero softly, ‘I remember telling you how I dislike having to behave like a Grand Inquisitor. But first things come first. If the Professor will tell me exactly how to manufacture PENTER 15 this story could have a happy ending.’

  ‘Could?’

  ‘Could,’ agreed Zero. ‘Life is always uncertain. But if he was also able to give me a reliable antidote then both he and his daughter would be free to do as they pleased.’

  ‘Such as giving a description to the police.’

  Zero shook his head. ‘No. The Professor has now only one eye and it would be easy to get my surgeon to remove the other. But,’ he added gently, ‘Miss Carpenter would have to have the same operation. Though knowing me as you do you will agree that this is a most generous offer.’

  ‘Death or blindness!’ Yet Grant knew that for Zero it really was a generous offer. The man rarely made propositions. He dictated terms. ‘And myself?’

  ‘A swift death instead of a slow one.’

  ‘How slow?’ asked Grant, and fumbled in his pockets for another match as Zero’s hand darted like a striking snake and stopped him halfway. ‘No pockets, Doctor. One can never be sure what are inside pockets. Try one of these instead. But how slow? At a guess I would say a bullet in the head as against the sort of death which has come to those few people whom I have given to my research staff for use as guinea pigs. You see,’ he continued, ‘SATAN has wide interests, and one of them is to dabble in various aspects of scientific research. And human subjects are sometimes more useful than animals.’

  ‘Such as when?’

  ‘Working out the threshold for pain; or deciding how long a man can survive after controlled doses of radiation; or what happens when his brain has been disturbed by various shock procedures; in fact my scientists are interested in almost everything. Even in transplanting tumours. You see,’ he added, ‘since it is now possible for surgeons to transplant things like normal hearts or kidneys we wonder if it might be possible to transplant abnormal organs, like malignancies of various types. And, of course, it is all part of our programme to find out any information, even of the most unusual kind, which might turn out to have some political or financial value.’

  Grant looked at the man with cynical disbelief. How could the grafting of cancer have any sort of value even to an enemy?

  ‘But you don’t understand,’ said Zero. ‘One is looking for facts. And one fact leads to another fact. The actual transplantation of cancer from one body to another has no immediate financial or political advantage, but it is at least penetrating another barrier, and the information which my scientists may acquire might well be useful. Still,’ he smiled, ‘why look on the dark side of things. If the Professor talks you will be given a humane bullet. But until then you will be a useful weapon to hold over his head. And, of course, we can break Deirdre Carpenter at any time by giving you a little carefully considered attention.’

  Grant eased himself against the cushions and gently squeezed Deirdre’s foot. ‘O.K.,’ he tapped out.

  Zero looked at him suspiciously. ‘Why the restlessness?’

  ‘Stiff,’ said Grant briefly. ‘And cramp in my leg.’

  ‘Then control yourself. I dislike anything which is not strictly normal.’

  The six miles to Luton had been eaten up and the airport loomed ahead. ‘One last word. My men know what is going on and if you put a foot wrong various people will suffer.’

  Grant couldn’t resist a final pinprick. ‘Including yourself? Because don’t forget that you, for sure, would then die at the end of a rope. Have you ever seen a man hanged?’ he continued. ‘Or seen a hangman’s hands, those soft efficient hands which touch your skin for a second as he fixes the noose. The last touch you have on earth with another human being.’ He looked Zero straight in the eye. ‘You must be very sure of yourself.’

  ‘I am,’ said Zero softly, and opened the brief-case. It was the receiving end of a two-way radio. ‘Let’s hear from Carpenter.’

  There was a moment of silence and then the Professor’s voice wailed through the car. ‘Don’t,’ he screamed. ‘No. Oh dear God, no! Please.’

  Deirdre had blenched and even Grant shuddered as he heard a voice echo out above the noise. ‘He’s fainted, sir.’

  ‘Simple,’ said Zero easily. ‘Just a little iodine fortis into the wound where his eye used to be. But painful.’

  Grant felt Deirdre’s thigh muscles taut against his leg and gripped her hand. ‘Steady. It could be a bluff.’

  ‘It could,’ said Zero gently. ‘But it isn’t. Though I agree that I don’t want him to die.’

  Grant pulled himself together. ‘But if we let your team do what it wants with Mrs. Carpenter and Deirdre’s friend then you would certainly die. You are banking on me being sentimental about people I’ve never even met.’

  ‘Dr. Grant,’ Zero sighed with sarcastic noisiness, ‘you have your own personal weaknesses. Trouble would also involve your Russian mistress Maya Koren. She is now in her flat and can be lifted at any time.’

  Grant nodded briefly. ‘You win.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear that.’ Zero relaxed and as the car drew up at the air-terminal buildings gave one final warning. ‘You can’t afford even an accidental mistake. So be very careful.’

  Deirdre was shivering and Passport Control looked at her curiously. ‘You feeling all right, ma’am?’

  Grant held her lightly by the arm and nodded. ‘She’s got a tummy upset and doesn’t like flying.’

  The men stared. ‘Are you her husband?’

  Grant pointed to the passports. ‘Fiancé.’

  They glanced at his photograph. ‘Aged a bit, haven’t you?’

  Grant smiled. ‘Haven’t we all?’

  ‘And you, sir?’ They looked at Zero.

  ‘Her uncle.’

  ‘And you’re sure you’re O.K., ma’am? Don’t want a doctor or anything?’

  ‘I’ll be fine once we get there. Just nerves and too big a dinner last night.’

  The men saluted. ‘Happy landings.’

  Deirdre clutched her handbag and turned to Grant. ‘Let’s go.’

  A Convair Coronado 990 was waiting with whining jets on the tarmac. Two dead-pan stewards, followed by Tony, marshalled the party into the cabin and Grant saw that it had been divided by a partition across the fuselage, aft of a forward escape hatch. ‘My private cabin,’ said Zero curtly. ‘Your father is inside.’ He nodded to Tony and the door was closed.

  The forward half had been converted in
to a lounge holding chairs and a central table.

  Grant saw the pilot’s hand move gently as he opened up the engines and taxied for take-off.

  It was an immense aircraft with a wing-span of a hundred and twenty feet which could carry over one hundred passengers.

  ‘And it often does,’ said Zero. ‘We have taken more than that number of slaves on the trans-African route to the Yemen and Saudi Arabia. Very useful, really. And paid for itself long ago.’

  The machine was revving up and Grant could hear the crackle of metallic voices over the captain’s ear-phones. The cockpit was only a few paces from where he was sitting and he saw that the crew had been cut down to captain, navigator and two stewards. Tony was the only other passenger. ‘And we touch down at Cairo?’

  Zero shook his head. ‘No. The Aswan Dam story was a stall for officialdom. This aircraft has a range of just over six thousand five hundred miles and a cruising speed of six four zero m.p.h. One would never use it for a short trip to Egypt. Or the UAR, rather,’ he corrected himself swiftly.

  ‘Then where?’ Grant loathed take-off. His own early crash had been when something had gone wrong and they had overshot the runway.

  And then the wheels lifted into those agonising few seconds at the point of no return when a stall meant death.

  ‘But not with four engines,’ he whispered to Deirdre, who was watching the houses grow smaller as they lifted into a heavy blue-black sky. There was some air turbulence and the machine jerked unsteadily. He glanced at the lighted notice. Still keep seat-belts fastened and still no smoking.

  Air speed was now at least five five zero knots and Zero was leaning back in his seat suffering the turbulence with passive indifference.

  The ‘No Smoking’ notice switched off and Deirdre opened her handbag. Zero lighted a match and the girl thanked him automatically.

  A steward stopped beside the table. ‘Tea or coffee?

  ‘Tell me,’ said Grant curtly, ‘when can we see the Professor?’

  Zero loosened his seat-belt. ‘It’s unlikely that you will see the Professor Carpenter at all because I am impatient to start work.’

  Grant looked at the steward. ‘Coffee for both of us.’ And then he turned towards Zero. ‘Meaning what?’