The Death Hunter

by Lou Cameron

  Captain Gringo stepped over to the spanking new machine gun on the crate, worked the odd bolt, and said, flatly, “It’s a Spandau, sure as hell!”

  “Would you mind offering an opinion as to its place of origin, sir?”

  “Shit, everybody knows the Spandau is a German machine gun. What in the hell is it doing in Costa Rica?”

  “What indeed?” sighed Greystoke, turning to Delgado to add, “are you convinced, Colonel? This young man doesn’t even like me.”

  Delgado shrugged and said, “All right, if it’s a German gun, it’s a German gun. I keep telling you, we are not expecting revolution or civil war in this country. There is simply no point to running guns into Costa Rica, German or otherwise. Costa Rica has no problem with Germany. We are a most peaceful nation. The whole thing is some sort of joke. Maybe troublemakers from Nicaragua left it in the lowland jungles. Everyone knows the Nicaraguans are crazy.”

  Interested despite himself, Captain Gringo shot Greystoke a questioning look. The Englishman reached for the light switch and suggested, “Let’s go back to my office where we can be more comfortable, what?”

  As they followed him, Captain Gringo asked, “Where are we, the British consulate?” and Greystoke said, “Heavens, no. This is too delicate a matter to involve Her Majesty’s regular government in. I told you once before that we of the Secret Service have our own operating funds and bases of operations. This is a private home, officially owned by a Costa Rican national, friendly to Great Britain.”

  Captain Gringo nodded and sat down again as Greystoke rang for tea. Neither the American nor the Costa Ricans wanted tea, but Greystoke served himself before he said, “That gun in the next room was discovered in its crate by a Costa Rican army patrol. The sergeant in command was quick-witted enough to bring the matter to Colonel Delgado’s personal attention and, as you see, Colonel Delgado and I have a certain understanding. Before I go any further, Walker, can I assume you’re with us?”

  Captain Gringo frowned and asked, “I don’t have any choice, do I?”

  The Englishman looked genuinely puzzled. Then he smiled thinly and said, “Oh, quite. You’re afraid that if you turn us down, we’ll hand you over to the U.S. Navy, right?”

  “The thought had crossed my mind.”

  “Yes, well, let me assure you that I’m sincerely trying to win you over without threats. Not because I’ve suddenly grown fonder of you, but simply because you’d be no good to us if you were made to feel we’d pressured you.”

  The American grinned sardonically and said, “In that case, count me out. If you mean it, I’d like to gather up Gaston and say adios.”

  Greystoke shrugged and said, “As you wish. I’m sorry we troubled you.”

  The American rose, narrow eyed, and moved toward the door. Nobody tried to stop him. He said, “That’s it? I walk out free as a big ass bird and nobody even sends a note to teacher?”

  “I told you we wanted you in as a willing volunteer, damn it. You’ll find your friend in the second room just down the hall. The doctor says he should rest, but if you insist on dragging him after you like a pull toy, we’ll not stop you.”

  Captain Gringo opened the door. Nothing happened. He nodded and shut the door before he went back to the sofa and sat down, saying, “Hell, now I’m curious.”

  “Are you in or out?”

  “I’ll tell you after I hear your pitch. You know I’m in no position to carry tales out of school, Greystoke.”

  The Englishman hesitated before he said, “Quite. I’ll have to take a chance on your honor as an officer and a gentleman. Since last we met, I’ve had time to study your files a bit more and I hope you won’t feel insulted if I consider you a patriotic American, despite that grotesque misunderstanding at your court-martial?”

  “Save the compliments, Greystoke. I thought you were working for Queen Victoria.”

  “Oh, I am, but she doesn’t know it. That’s one of the things that makes this mess so sticky. You probably know that Her Majesty is Kaiser Bill’s grandmother.”

  Captain Gringo nodded and said, “She’s everybody’s grandmother. Your royal families on the other side of the pond are one big happy family.”

  Greystoke grimaced and said, “Not quite. The late Kaiser Frederick was a rather reasonable chap, but he died of cancer just a few short years ago and left the crown to, well, a bit of a twit. Have you been following the recent antics of William II?”

  “Not really. Germany’s never given the States as much trouble as The Sioux Nation or Geronimo. I thought the next war we had slated for us would be with Spain.”

  “Oh, you Yanks will tangle with Spain any day, now, but Spain hasn’t been a real danger for years, despite your Mister Hearst’s newspaper campaign. I daresay your Indian fighting army will make hash out of Spain’s a few months after you find an excuse to declare war.”

  Colonel Delgado nodded and said, “Costa Rica could whip Spain. But I thought we were talking about Germany. Germany has no colonies in this hemisphere, Señor Greystoke. Just what is this great danger you fear from the new young Kaiser?”

  Greystoke said, softly, “The Kaiser is not quite right in the head. Just what his plans may be at any given moment are never too clear, even to the Kai-ser.

  Captain Gringo frowned and asked, “Are you saying the Kaiser is insane?”

  “Unstable would be a politer way to put it,” sighed Greystoke, adding, “He is, after all, the grandson of Queen Victoria and the nephew of our next monarch, Edward, Prince of Wales, eh what?”

  Colonel Delgado shrugged and said, “If Germany is planning to invade Costa Rica, the Kaiser is insane, no matter who he’s related to! What you suggest is ridiculous, Señor Greystoke. I have never been too comfortable with the Yanqui’s Monroe Doctine, but, whether we asked for it or not, the United States would never permit such a thing. I tell you, those German weapons my men found down along the coast mean nothing as mad as a German invasion! For God’s sake, even if the Kaiser is as crazy as you fear, why Costa Rica? Why not Nicaragua or Mexico or some other place that has a revolution every other year? I tell you, our people here are contented with their present government! Costa Rica doesn’t even have the usual bandit problem! Our citizens would rise as one man to fight off any invading army!”

  Greystoke nodded and said, “That’s true. Everyone knows you have the most stable government in Central America. I’m sure the Germans know it, too.”

  Captain Gringo was as confused as the Costa Rican officer, but they were getting ahead of him. He cut in to say, “Back up, Greystoke. The colonel just said weapons, plural. Does that mean the one Spandau in the other room is not the whole story?”

  Greystoke nodded and said, “The unexpected Costa Rican patrol would seem to have surprised a clandestine landing at a secluded jungle lagoon. The German agents abandoned a few things as they evacuated in some haste, apparently.”

  Colonel Delgado snorted in disgust and said, “Ridiculous. It was broad daylight when my men stumbled over that small horde of arms in the jungle. They of course assumed someone might be running guns into our country, for some mad reason. They naturally sent some scouts up the nearest and tallest palms. With field glasses. They saw nothing out to sea, and it was a clear day. You may be right about the mystery weapons being German, but I still say they were dropped by some mad jungle runners … perhaps from Nicaragua.”

  He pointed at Captain Gringo to add, “We know this man and his friend came down from Nicaragua, along with others, as the side they fought on lost their last revolution. How do we know this gunrunner, himself, didn’t abandon those weapons down in the lowland jungle? Didn’t you say he was a machine gunner?”

  Greystoke smiled at Captain Gringo and asked, “Did your side have many Spandaus, Captain?”

  The American shook his head and said, “No. We had the usual American-made stuff and a few Belgian Maxims smuggled through the usual channels.”

  Delgado said, “How could you know there wasn’t a
German gun or two mixed in?”

  Captain Gringo shrugged and didn’t answer. He looked at Greystoke and asked, “What do you think they landed the stuff from, a Holland boat?”

  Greystoke looked pleased and said, “I admire a chap who thinks the unthinkable. I was afraid you’d say it was too wild to consider.”

  Captain Gringo laughed and said, “Hell, I do! But you seem to have a personal hard-on for poor Kaiser Bill and there’s no other way real Germans could have gotten out of sight, off shore, so quickly.”

  Colonel Delgado’s eyebrows were screwed together as he ran the bit about a Holland boat through his limited grasp of English. Then he suddenly gasped and said, “My God! A Holland boat is one of those submarine things! My brother-in-law, a high ranking naval officer, assures me there is no such thing as a practical seagoing submarine!”

  Greystoke sighed and said, “Forgive me, Colonel, but I have certain connections with a somewhat more advanced navy. The Germans have been laying down their own version of the Yankee Holland boat, in Kiel, for some time, now.”

  The colonel got to his feet and said, “This whole discussion is as mad as you British say that Kaiser is. I can see, now, I never should have brought the matter to your attention. Do you still need my soldados to guard this young man and his French friend, señor?”

  Greystoke said, “No. But I do wish you’d stay and hear me out, Colonel.”

  Delgado shook his head and said, “Forgive me, I mean no disrespect, but it is getting late and, well, frankly—”

  “You think I’m full of shit?”

  “You said it, Señor Greystoke, not I. Now, if you will excuse me, I intend to organize a sensible sweep of the coastal jungles. I am sure my men will track down the guerrillas who for some reason seem to be running guns into my country. If we spy any German submarines, rest assured you shall be informed!”

  Then he muttered, “¡Vamanos, muchachos!” and marched grandly out, followed by his guards. Greystoke waited until they heard the front door slam before he smiled at Captain Gringo and said, “Thank God he’s gone. Now we can talk, eh what?”

  Captain Gringo frowned at him and asked, ‘You mean that was just a lot of bullshit to get the Costa Rican Army out of your act?”

  “Our act, Captain Gringo. You, Gaston Verrier, and any other lads of fortune you may recruit will be paid … and well … from certain private funds at my disposal. But, officially, you’ll not be working for either Her Majesty’s nor the Costa Rican governments. If you ever tell anyone about this proposition, I’ll not only disavow you; I’ll tell the U.S. Federal authorities where to look for you.”

  “I love you, too. Now that we’re asshole buddies, and alone, what in the hell is going on?”

  Before Greystoke could answer, Gaston came in, holding his head and wearing a look of total confusion. He spotted Greystoke and went for his gun as Captain Gringo snapped, “Hold it, Gaston! We just kissed and made up!”

  Gaston took his hand from his gun, but said, “Sacre son of the bitch! I have been murdered! Are you all right, Dick?”

  “Yeah. Sit down and shut up. Greystoke, here, is trying to convince me that the German Kaiser is crazy.”

  Gaston sat beside him on the sofa, still holding a hand to his head, as he said, “Merde, I could have told you that. He’s a cripple, too.”

  Greystoke nodded and said, “Some say the Kaiser’s withered hand may have something to do with his posturing and saber-rattling. Since his ever-so-much-nicer father died, the young Kaiser has been a terrible bore. He’s refused to renew his father’s peace treaty with the Czar of Russia and encouraged Austrian claims in the Balkans, despite strong Russian protests. And of course, as you know, he dismissed Bismarck, the one stable element of the German government.”

  Gaston said, “Merde! First you hit a Frenchman on the head and now you insult him further by praising Bismarck! Have you forgotten what Bismarck did to my country twenty years ago, m’sieu?”

  Greystoke shrugged and said, “Herr Bismarck was a pushy chap, but he was a sensible pushy chap. The young officers the new Kaiser has surrounded himself with are openly drinking to Der Tag and, despite the royal family’s fondness for their wretched Cousin Willy, Germany is preparing for a war that promises to make past wars look like cricket matches!”

  Gaston said, “Bah, what does it matter if Germany has a fight with Russia over the Balkans? France is stronger, now, than Prussia was in ’seventy. France and England have made peace and will fight on the same side, should the Russians and Germans insist on involving others, hein!”

  Greystoke’s voice was flatly certain as he said, “Tell that to the Kaiser and his new general staff. Mark my words, gentlemen, Germany will set all of Europe ablaze within a generation. I have it on good authority that we’ll see a general war between all of the great powers no later than 1920!”

  Captain Gringo said, “Even if you’re right, that’s a long time from now and the other side of the Atlantic, too! Let’s get back to what you think some German nut is doing here in Costa Rica.”

  Greystoke said, “We don’t think. We know. I told you British Intelligence has learned the Germans have an all-out rearmament program. The German Navy’s scrapping their old battleship fleet. They know there’s no way they’ll ever catch up with the Royal Navy’s bigger and better surface fleet. Germany’s pinning its hopes on a more modern fleet of submarines.”

  Gaston looked astonished and said, “Sacre! Submarines are just a dream, even if a Frenchman did write that book about Captain Nemo and his weird fictitious submarine!”

  Greystoke said, “Unfortunately, the Germans have all-too-real new submarines. It’s true they still have a few problems with them, but each one they build seems to run faster and stay down longer. They’ve also stolen plans for the British Whitehead torpedo and they’re said to be working on a plan to fire them from under water.”

  Captain Gringo said, “All right, so what? They’re not about to invade Costa Rica with a fleet of submarines, are they?”

  “Of course not. Germany’s interest in Costa Rica, as a conquest, is nil. Colonel Delgado is right about it being a stable little country with a contented, patriotic population. But the Colonel overlooks one thing about his country. Nine out of ten Costa Ricans live up here, in the healthy highlands. The jungles along the coast are a green hell and, of course, nearly devoid of population.

  Gaston sighed and said, “True. We had a most difficult time hacking our way up to the mesa lands. Nobody with any sense would live down along the coast, if he had any choice.”

  Greystoke nodded and turned to Captain Gringo as he asked, “Do you remember what we were fighting about in Panama, when fortune placed us on opposing sides?”

  Captain Gringo said, “Sure. You limeys have a deal with Uncle Sam, giving you a piece of the action when and if they ever finish that canal.”

  “Exactly. One learns to think ahead in power politics. The Kaiser’s fire-eating navy men know the Panama Canal will probably be built and in operation by the time Der Tag arrives. The Royal Navy and Merchant Marine will funnel through Panamanian waters in the near future and, should a general war break out, I can hardly imagine a better place for a submarine skipper to be lurking. Can you?”

  Captain Gringo shook his head and said, “No. It’s wild as hell, but I’m starting to get your drift. The last I heard, the U.S. Holland boat can only run three or four knots at full submerged speed. Let’s say the Germans can do better. They still couldn’t travel very far under water. If the Kaiser’s submariners really have plans involving the Panama Canal, they’ll need a base not too far from the target area.”

  Gaston frowned and asked, “But why as far north as Costa Rica? Would not it make more sense to build a hidden base even closer to the canal?”

  Greystoke said, “It would if the Panamanian coast was deserted. As we all know, it’s not. Panama has no cool highlands to lure settlers in away from the lagoons and swamps. As you’ll remember, there are Indian
s along the Panamanian coast, too. Costa Rica has few Indians and the economy is based on highland crops, save for a few widely scattered banana plantations.”

  He hesitated, as if afraid they’d be overheard, before he added, very softly, “You may have noticed there are quite a few people here in San Jose with light hair and blue eyes, eh what?”

  Captain Gringo nodded and said, “Sure. Gaston, here, says they came from the north of Spain.”

  “Not all of them,” said Greystoke, adding, “Costa Rica has the largest population of German settlers in all of Central America!’

  Captain Gringo laughed incredulously and said. “Come on, are you saying all those pretty blonde señoritas we’ve been flirting with are frauleins?”

  “I am,” said Greystoke, soberly. “Colonel Delgado’s wife is one of them. The German arms his patrol stumbled over in the jungle was only a few miles from the banana plantation of a Costa Rican citizen named Von Sachen. Did you notice Colonel Delgado didn’t mention that detail as he insisted I was crazy?”

  Captain Gringo whistled softly and asked, “Jesus, do you suspect that Delgado’s on the Kaiser’s payroll?”

  “I don’t see why not. He’s on ours. Don’t forget that a German submarine base in some deserted lagoon along the coast poses no real threat to Costa Rica, herself. A sincerely patriotic Costa Rican official might not see any harm in possible future squabbles between two strange protestant navies, eh?”

  “Hmm, that could explain a literate officer demanding proof that a Spandau gun with German printing on it was really German. So, we can assume the Costa Rican Army isn’t going to help us very much, huh?”

  “They may try to stop you, as a matter of fact.”

  “Right. So who’s on our side, Greystoke?”

  “Nobody. As I told you, before, I’m hiring you and paying you off the books.”

  “Does the British government know we’re pulling their chestnuts out of the fire?”