The Betrayers

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The Betrayers Page 9

by Donald Hamilton


  “Assuming you’re telling the truth, and you are an undercover operative of some kind for the U.S. Government, was Winnie one, too?”

  I said, “I can’t answer that. If she was, it would come under the heading of classified information, wouldn’t it?”

  “You’ve told me what you are. If you’re telling the truth. Isn’t that classified, too?”

  “You kind of tricked it out of me, catching me with a gun out,” I said. “I had to give you a reasonable explanation, to avoid damaging publicity. We’re allowed to use the truth judiciously in such cases; we’re not one of the outfits that make a holy fetish of security, thank God. But that doesn’t mean I can lay the whole operation open to you, just to satisfy your girlish curiosity.”

  “It’s a little more than girlish curiosity.” Isobel’s voice was sharp. “I mean, if she was an agent, too, and you were working together, and she got killed in the line of duty, then maybe—”

  “Maybe what?”

  “Maybe you weren’t really married. Maybe you were just pretending to be. Maybe it was just, what do you call it in your work, a cover? And in that case—”

  She was a smart woman. I grinned at her across the table. “In that case, you and your Kenneth would be home free, wouldn’t you? No marriage, no inheritance for me. Shucks, and I was just starting to feel so rich, too!”

  Isobel didn’t smile. “Unfortunately for us, it isn’t quite that simple. Whether or not you were married to her, there’s still the will; she was legally entitled to leave her money to any man she chose, husband or no…”

  This was all taking us pretty far from what had brought me to Hawaii, but of course I couldn’t say so. To act uninterested would have been suspicious. It would have indicated that I had more important things on my mind than half a million dollars.

  “Wait a minute!” I said. “What will are we talking about now? From a letter I got and from what you’ve told me, I gather that the old man, Philip Grant Marner or whatever his name was, willed his estate to his kids Kenneth and Winifred. Is that right?”

  “Yes, of course. And Winnie left her share to you, in a document mailed from France about a week before she died. Didn’t you know?”

  I thought of a small girl with silver-blonde hair who’d never talked much about herself. My voice sounded odd and far away when I spoke: “No, I didn’t know. I didn’t even know the kid had money. She never told me.”

  “Of course you’d say that.”

  I looked up, and drew a long breath, and managed a grin. “Sure. I’m a born liar. You can’t trust a word I say.”

  Isobel said grimly, “And you can get that sentimental look off your face. Maybe Winnie was fond of you and maybe she wasn’t—I wouldn’t know about that—but she didn’t pass her inheritance on to you because of your sex appeal. She did it to spite me and to protect the older brother she idolized.”

  “Protect him?” I said. “By keeping him from getting her share of the dough if she died? That’s protection?”

  “Yes. Because she knew he was almost broke, and she thought I would leave him if he could no longer support me properly. And in her opinion, my leaving Kenneth would be the biggest break of his life. She hated me, and she had the theory, I’m sure, that without me to drag him down, he’d manage to make a man of himself somehow.” Isobel shrugged. “Well, that was one girl’s opinion. We always did disagree about what was good for Kenneth, Winnie and I. I managed to win that battle; that’s why she went away and took a government job.” Isobel smiled. “She never let us know what kind of job it was, except that it involved a lot of traveling. But I can guess, can’t I? Just as I can guess that you weren’t really married.”

  There was a little break while the waitress served our lunches; then I said, “If there’s a will, what difference does our matrimonial status make?”

  “Wills can be broken, darling. What did they call this fish?”

  “Mahimahi. Something local,” I said. “Is it any good?”

  “Fabulous. Look, they’ve got almonds in the sauce! And if we did decide to try to break Winnie’s last will and testament, charging duress or incompetence or something, we’d probably have a better chance if you’d been just casual lovers rather than man and wife.” She regarded me coolly across the table. “And, of course, if you’re not what you claim to be, and if you did murder Winnie after all… Well, as I said, that’s what I was hoping to prove when I came out here.”

  “And now?” I asked.

  She smiled slowly. “Now I’ll have to use another approach, darling. Because, to be perfectly honest, after meeting you and talking with you, I don’t really think you killed her. And I don’t really think her will can be broken. So there’s only one thing left for me to do, isn’t there? All I can do is throw myself on your mercy, my dear brother-in-law, and hope that somehow I can make you feel generous toward me. Well, toward Kenneth and me.”

  There was a little silence. “Half a million is a lot of generosity,” I said at last, watching her closely. It didn’t seem like real money we were discussing, the kind you could pay bills with or use in the Coke machine.

  “Oh, I don’t expect you to renounce it all,” she said calmly. “But you’re obviously not a man who thinks too much about money; it doesn’t mean a great deal to you. Apparently you’ve got a good salary and your tastes aren’t too expensive. You could be generous and pass up, say, half the legacy and never notice it. And it would mean a great deal… a very great deal to us. To me.” She looked down and found a cigarette and did her nervous fast-draw trick with the lighter once more. Without looking up, she said, “You said something about… about finding a use for me, Matt.”

  “In bed or out,” I agreed. “I did say something like that, didn’t I?”

  She blew smoke toward the nearest palm tree. “In bed is easy,” she said, quite unruffled. “If that’s all you want, let’s get back to the hotel. For a quarter of a million, darling, I’d sleep with the devil himself.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “There’s nothing like making a man feel wanted for himself alone, I always say. What else would you do for approximately two hundred and fifty grand?”

  “Just about anything,” she said steadily. “Just name it and tell me how. I don’t have much experience with your kind of melodrama, but I’m bright and willing to learn.” She was silent briefly, and went on, “I know I’m revealing myself as a dreadfully mercenary person, but don’t rub my nose in it any harder than you have to, Matt. I do have a certain amount of pride.”

  “Sorry,” I said, and meant it. “As a matter of fact, I think I can find a use for you outside the obvious one. How much risk are you willing to run for a quarter of a million?”

  She said any amount. They always say that, the ones who’ve never been shot at in their lives.

  12

  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 per cent 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 bighearted 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 Hari with wings on. Wanting me to weep with her for the woes of Asia, for Christ’s sake!”

  He cleared his throat. “According 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 bee
n 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.

  13

  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.

 

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