Hawaii Five-O - 2 - Terror in the Sun

by Michael Avallone

  “Von Litz?”

  “Ja, ja.”

  “Dorkin?”

  “When do we start? Today, tomorrow, next week?”

  Benjamin Bygraves was pleased. The tiny eyes glittered. “We have started. Don’t coordinate your efforts. Do it alone, singly, as you always have. One of you is bound to succeed out of five tries. Method and execution I leave to your finest estimate of the enemy. I have begun my own project this morning. Before you came. It only wanted your assurances and cooperation about McGarrett before I took Step Number Two.”

  Bellini eyed him suspiciously over the smoking end of his cigarette. Rome had often burned while Angelo Bellini fiddled.

  “What was Step Number One?”

  The Undertaker did show his teeth this time. They were large, white and horsey, fulfilling the promises inherent in the lantern jaws.

  “Registering us all in this comfortable suite as members of the ACBL. Ostensibly, we have come to enter the bridge tournament to be held in Hilo next week. I trust you are all familiar with the pastimes and pursuits of the American Contract Bridge League?”

  Tillingham shook his head in admiration.

  “Smashing. Great cover. Really. Fine game that. Are we Life Masters or rookies or what?”

  Bygraves shook his head in a firm negative.

  “I couldn’t risk that. The lobbies and beaches and pools will be bursting with people here for the same thing. Rather, let us say, we are hopeless amateurs still striving to win points and pick up tips and advice from the professionals. As idle sportsmen and well-to-do visitors to these shores, no one will be too suspicious. By the time the event does come, we shall have long since been gone.”

  Bellini growled. “Bridge. Never could take that game for more than a couple of rubbers.”

  Von Litz snapped quickly: “What names did you register us under? If I am to have an alias, I should care to know what it is.”

  Bygraves smiled. A death’s head smile again.

  “I saw no reason not to use the names you are now using. After all, no one knows your true identities. Not even I. I hope you agree I was wise to do this.”

  “Splendid.” Tillingham agreed. “A rose by any other name and all that.”

  “I have no objection,” Tornier said glumly. The others all nodded or murmured their approval. Bellini took the cigarette out of his mouth and poked it at Benjamin Bygraves. His swarthy angel’s face wore a curious grin.

  “Deal’s set then. We take care of your McGarrett. Then we split with the keys until we meet again someday. Now—mind telling us who the man is you’re going to account for? I don’t want to play guessing games when I read the morning papers or be too surprised, either.”

  All eyes swung back to Benjamin Bygraves.

  He had his head cocked, as if trying to catch the thunder of the jets again. Then he straightened and spread his hands in an almost apologetic gesture. Again, deceiving. Assassins do not apologize for anything. Or to anybody.

  “There’s no harm in your knowing. I have been sent to remove Rogers Endore from this mortal coil. It seems he has betrayed some very important people in China. That’s all I need to know. Mr. Endore is staying in this hotel as of now. Tomorrow morning, he is to fly out of Honolulu Airport with an escort of three trained CIA agents. Just take care of McGarrett and I will see to Endore and then we will all go to Switzerland and live happily ever after.”

  “Endore!” Bellini almost strangled on his cigarette. His dark face began to perspire.

  “Rogers Endore,” Mark Tillingham whistled under his breath.

  “A great man,” Tornier said almost sadly but his lumpy profile had bumped up a gruesome smile, revealing the true nature of the man.

  Igor Dorkin shook his head admiringly. “He’s got to rank about fifth, sixth or seventh in the Diplomatic Corps, that character.”

  “Nein,” Von Litz lumbered to an end table where chrome decanters and glasses gleamed in the bright sunshine filtering in through the wide windows. “He’s higher than that. Second. Right behind the Secretary of State. Ah, Prime Minister or whatever they have in Great Britain.”

  Benjamin Bygraves raised his hand for attention.

  “He is all that and more. But his death suddenly becomes worth a million dollars to us. Never mind the reasons. Do the job and let’s put an end to speculation. Endore’s time has come. That’s all that need concern us. I do not kill people for their politics. As I’m sure neither do any of you inestimable gentlemen. Now, shall we have another drink and toast the forseeable future?”

  Men laughed, glasses clinked, alcoholic beverages poured, the jets roared and six assassins paused in their day’s occupation to make small talk, spread the latest in gossip from the Continent and generally abandon themselves to the comfort of the suite of rooms and the requirements of the flesh.

  When the time came for Benjamin Bygraves to pass five sets of photos around the room, one set to each man, every assassin found himself in possession of four 2x4 prints of the faces of four men. The shots were sharp, clear and above and beyond the feeble variety of passport photos. On the reverse white side of each print was the name and necessary information for each face, printed in neat, small inked lines.

  Bellini had paused at the photo of Steve McGarrett and tapped it with a fresh cigarette.

  “Good-looking man,” Angelo Bellini said admiringly, “for a cop.”

  2. SHUT UP AND LISTEN, STEVE

  McGarrett shouldered his way briskly through the clutter of props, flats and television cables snaking across the hard stone floor and reached the door identified with a white card hastily scotch-taped to the yellow panel. GOVERNOR, the card announced, in a big, crudely printed mass of block lettering. McGarrett restrained a mocking grin and tapped lightly on the door. Behind him, the converted Navy warehouse now serving as the CBS studio for shooting TV shows of Hawaii origin, was oddly silent. The set had been struck, the gigantic cameras and maze of equipment all turned off. The Governor’s plush, modern-design offices in the State Building were a far far cry from this expedient, only-to-be-used-once dressing room. Mr. Governor had just contributed one half hour of his valuable time to the filming of a documentary type special called Hawaii-Now.

  “Come on in, McGarrett,” the familiar authoritative voice called out. “It’s open.”

  McGarrett entered and closed the door, leaning against it. There was really no room to sit down. The odors of greasepaint, chalk dust and assorted makeup items filled the narrow room. McGarrett smiled at the Governor’s face in the mirror. Bordered by the running rows of light bulbs and brick showing through the confines of the room, the setting was one that would have amazed the constituents.

  “How did you know it was me?” McGarrett asked.

  “I called you here, didn’t I? Promptness and speed are two of your long suits. Sorry, no chairs.” The Governor finished mopping a thin patina of flesh-colored dye from his face. His intelligent eyes and fine, handsome face mounted with the shock of orderly, graying hair was almost back to normal. “How was it?”

  “Straight, clear and to the point. You did well, Governor. You may get some offers from Hollywood. You have what they call—charisma. And presence. And authority.”

  The Governor reached for his blue foulard tie which was slung neatly from a hook on the wall next to the mirror. He began to knot it very carefully around his throat. His eyes were on the upturned corners of his white shirt but his mind was on something else. McGarrett waited. Vanity and self-importance were two of the items not in the Governor’s makeup. The head of Hawaii Five-O had never known a man for whom the phrase solid citizen would have applied so thoroughly. He knew instinctively that he had not been called from his desk at Headquarters in the Iolani Palace just to give the Governor any opinion about the man’s chances for an acting career.

  “All right,” McGarrett said flatly. “Give.”

  The Governor did not smile. He was too familiar with McGarrett’s directness, his right-to-the-point
line of approach.

  “You’ve guessed it. This is business. As usual. I thought it best to talk to you here rather than my office. I want to draw no particular attention to either of us at this moment. What is more natural than two old friends meeting when one of the old friends is shooting a TV show? As it stands, we’re alone here. My own security people are outside, ostensibly waiting to take me back to my office. McGarrett comes down to see me on television. A pretty average course of human events. I do want to talk to you about something, McGarrett. A very official piece of business in a very unofficial way. Understood?”

  McGarrett nodded curtly. The Governor studied his reflection in the mirror. Not his own. McGarrett’s. Once again, he marveled at the supremely neat, almost elegantly executive-style cut of the man. He saw the trim, lithe body, the very serious face that struck most observers as uncommonly grim. McGarrett didn’t really look like a policeman. Though the face was lean, strong-boned and cast in the hard, firm mold of the true investigator, for all of that, Hawaii Five-O’s leading man might have walked out of say, Aloha Motors, one of the largest Chevrolet dealers in all the islands. The dark blue suit, white shirt and plain powder-blue tie was the proper façade for a businessman type. Yet, the Governor knew that when McGarrett flashed his badge, people believed him. An investigative asset not to be sneezed at.

  “Kick off, Governor. I’m listening.”

  “Rogers Endore is in Honolulu. He’ll be at the Kahala Hilton for three days prior to leaving for stateside. I don’t have to tell you who Endore is and I can’t tell you why I’m asking Five-O to be responsible for his safety and well-being during his stay on Oahu. All the reasons for my asking this of you and your unit are important enough—and I cannot underscore the need for the security and protection you are capable of giving. I realize you may be working on other things and your time is always valuable. But I’m asking you to handle this assignment personally. I want you to supervise the necessary details and put your best people on it. And you must begin operations immediately. Endore arrived at the Kahala over an hour ago. Drop everything, McGarrett. Endore’s leaving Honolulu the same way he got here—healthy and all in one piece—is top priority.”

  McGarrett had not taken his eyes off the Governor’s face. But he did not allow any expressions of his own emotional reactions show. He might have been playing an intense round of poker in a high-stake game.

  “No questions,” he said quietly, “but you want me to throw my whole organization into a deal I’m not supposed to know anything about. How can I work with my hands tied like that?”

  The Governor sighed. “What do you have to know? It’s a bodyguard assignment, pure and simple. Take care of one man. You’ve handled this sort of operation in the past. Can’t you just think of Endore as another VIP entitled to the protection of the local law?”

  “No, I can’t,” McGarrett said without heat. “Rogers Endore is on a par with DeGaulle, Castro, Tito—Nixon—as a world figure. He could be Britain’s head man some day. And you can’t tell me he isn’t here knee-deep in C.I.D. men and agents of all kinds. What does he need Five-O for? We’d only be underfoot and in everybody’s way. I think, Governor, I deserve at least a hint as to what is going on. Don’t you?”

  “Sorry,” the Governor said. “I can’t tell you more than I have.”

  “That isn’t fair.”

  “No, it isn’t. But you still take orders from me. I’m pulling rank on you, McGarrett. You’ll have to do the job and not ask me any questions. I will tell you, officially, my own set of directives on this comes straight from the Pentagon.”

  McGarrett now smiled. A thin smile.

  “The price of statehood.” He shrugged. “All right, Governor. So I’ll fly blind. But it’s a mistake. It always is. Five-O carries guns, you know, and a man with a gun should always have a fair idea on whether or not he should be using it. Or has the right to.”

  The Governor pushed away the chair, stood up and turned to face McGarrett. Both men were at eye level. Tall, commanding-looking individuals between whom lay no differences in idealism, performance of duty or politics. The Governor slowly put on his tailored, light gray suit jacket. Methodically, deliberately. But he stared directly into McGarett’s eyes.

  “Shut up and listen, Steve,” he said quietly, removing all reproach and reprimand from the statement. “Endore is in danger. From whom and why is some of the information I’m not at liberty to divulge. Not even to you. That will have to be enough for the time being. Don’t let me have to make this an either-or situation. The job has to be done and I want you and Five-O to do it. Believe me, it would relieve my mind considerably knowing that Endore is staying in Honolulu with McGarrett minding the store.”

  McGarrett now smiled ruefully. His lips were compressed in a thin line. He accepted defeat gracefully.

  “You’re the Governor, Governor. I can only say Mr. Endore picked a great week to see Honolulu.”

  “Meaning?”

  “The town’s jumping with tourism, as usual. But this is a spectacularly heavy week. The Hawaiian Open Golf Tourney is on, there’s the Hilo Bridge Meets, the Japanese Tea House Festival is on now, not to mention the usual Pearl Harbor Cruises, Philippine Nights, Kona Cruises, Polynesian Water Ballets—” McGarrett spread his hands. “You know how it is, Governor. First stop Honolulu and everybody pushes on to see the rest of Hawaii. That means nothing but travelers, tourists, lots of new faces, incoming and outgoing people—the works. You don’t see the same face twice and when your detail is bodyguarding, it’s a headache of IBM proportions. I’m not going to thank you for this assignment. I can’t. It would be hypocritical. And added to that, you don’t want me to ask any more questions. Fair enough, I won’t. But I’ll go on the record for this much: I cannot guarantee the safety and well-being of one Rogers Endore. I’d need an army to protect a Mr. Big like him if somebody is really out to lower the boom on him. If you’ll agree with all I’ve just said, I’ll take the job. We’ll do the best we can but you’re asking for a miracle.”

  The Governor turned the knob of the dressing room door.

  “I’m no fool, I know what I’m handing you. I also know there are other security agencies involved. I just want to add Five-O to the pot. Believe me, the failures will all be shared if anything happens. How does that suit you?”

  “On those grounds, I have no further complaints. Drive you back to the office?”

  “No. I’ve the limousine waiting. Just keep me posted once you get underway on this. And once we walk through this door, don’t mention the assignment under any conditions.”

  “Okay. I’ll head back for Headquarters. And if I didn’t say so before, I’ll say it again. The show looked just fine and so did you. Your constituents will love you. They might even vote for you again when reelection rolls around.”

  The Governor shivered theatrically.

  “My TV image. Amazing how it’s possible to crucify yourself just by putting in an appearance on a television show. Come on, let’s get out of this broom closet before I really get claustrophobia.”

  McGarrett laughed and followed him out of the narrow, confining cubicle of a room. But his mind was racing furiously, already working on the sudden dumping in his lap of a tremendous task. He wondered what Danny Williams and Kono and Chin Ho Kelly would have to say about protecting a potential victim without knowing any of the inside facts. He stopped laughing. Knowing them as well as he knew himself, he had a pretty fair idea what their reaction would be.

  A mixture of genuine anger and sheer hostility. Both of which they would be entitled to. Policemen, contrary to the public opinion of them, do not like to perform as robots and automatons with no notions of what their real job is. Particularly, the men of Hawaii Five-O. McGarrett felt like shuddering himself.

  Out on the sidewalk with the metal-roofed studio buildings behind them, McGarrett walked the Governor to the long dark touring car where a uniformed chauffeur waited patiently behind the wheel and a man in civilian
clothes lounged, reading a copy of the Advertiser, one of Hawaii’s leading newspapers. McGarrett was not deceived. The bright sunlight, windwhipped and soothing in a mild, balmy eighty degrees of temperature made for a totally pleasant afternoon. From the shining front of the limousine, the twin flags of Hawaii and the United States of America fluttered from thin chrome pylons, one on each side of the bumper. Overhead, the sun glowed. On the ground, trucks rumbled by, cars and motorcycles headed out toward the sea and the harbor itself. McGarrett was fond of Pearl Harbor, in spite of the awful associative memories. It was one of the most attractive spots on Oahu.

  The Governor stepped alertly into the tonneau of the limousine and the man reading the newspaper folded it quietly and moved to the other side of the car. The Governor nodded to him and the man moved to enter. McGarrett had time for just two questions he was burning to ask, before the personal bodyguard sat next to the Governor.

  “Tell me two things?”

  “All right, McGarrett. If I can.”

  “Where did our very important person just come from?”

  “East Berlin. A goodwill thing.”

  “Where does he go from here?”

  “Washington, D.C. He leaves from Honolulu Airport on Friday.”

  McGarrett smiled and slammed the car door behind the Governor as Hawaii’s most important official settled down for the drive back to the State Building in Honolulu, some twenty miles away.

  “Aloha, Governor. See you on the reruns. Don’t forget to collect your residuals.”

  “I’ve donated the rewards of my TV career to the Parker-Ames Center. See you, McGarrett.”

  The limousine pulsed into life and moved smoothly away from the curb. McGarrett saluted softly, then turned away and headed across the macadamized road to where the official Five-O sedan sat in the sunlight, its revolving-red light blister stilled. The Parker-Ames Center offers psychological and educational services to emotionally disturbed children and young adults. Trust the Governor to sidetrack any funds to them that he could. It was one of his favorite charities. McGarrett shook off the detour of this thinking and thought back to the business at hand. The assignment of watching over Rogers Endore, ambassador extraordinary of that other island on the other side of the world. Why in hell should the affairs of Great Britain and the state of Hawaii suddenly come to a meeting at the crossroads of the political spectrum? He didn’t know.