Mission Earth Volume 7: Voyage of Vengeance

by L. Ron Hubbard

  “Maybe they thought I drowned,” said Madison hopefully.

  “I’m afraid not,” I said. “Three Corleone gangsters were pointing at the chopper as we flew away. They were shaking their fists.”

  “I saw them with my own eyes,” said Teenie, her own oversized ones very round.

  “Who’s this?” said Madison, staring at Teenie.

  “Miss Teenie Whopper, J. Walter Madison,” I said. And then a cunning plan popped into my head. If I could get them interested in each other, Teenie would leave me alone. After all, he was a very handsome young man.

  “I just graduated from college,” said Teenie. “He tells people I am his niece. But there’s no point in getting chummy if the Corleone mob is after you, Mr. Madison. You won’t be around long enough to bother with.”

  “What am I going to do?” said Madison, looking pretty white.

  “You’re not safe yet,” I said. “We’ve got to get you gone, Mad.”

  He appeared very agitated. “Yes,” he said. “The Corleones are tough. I’ve read all about them in the papers. They thirst for blood even more than money!”

  “With luck,” I said, “we’ll get you away. I can spirit you off so nobody will ever hear of you again. So don’t worry.”

  “Wow!” said Teenie. “Real white slavery.”

  Madison looked rather disconcerted. So I said loudly to the pilot, “Land as fast as you can. We don’t want to be shot out of the air!”

  We swooshed down to the West Thirtieth Street Heliport.

  Right there, at Pier Sixty-eight, a few hundred yards to the south of us, was my objective. The Golden Sunset!

  If luck was with me, I was going to steal my own yacht.

  For it had occurred to me that, after all, I owned it. It had been bought on my credit card!

  I paid off the pilots. Raht and Teenie unloaded the baggage and got it into two cabs, necessary even for that short haul.

  We sped over and along the dock. I glanced anxiously up and down to be sure Krak and Heller weren’t there yet.

  “Wait,” I told the cabs.

  I raced aboard.

  Captain Bitts was in the ship’s officers’ wardroom drinking coffee. Now came the real test. Would he believe me?

  I pulled out my passport and threw it down in front of him. He picked it up languidly. Then he saw the name Sultan Bey. He stood up like he’d been goosed.

  “You’re the owner!” he said incredulously. “I thought you were in Turkey!”

  “People have got to go on thinking that,” I said. “That CIA man, Haggarty, stole my concubine. We must keep this hushed up to avoid any scandal. Don’t even tell Squeeza I am aboard. Say no word to anybody. I am going to go to sea and try to mend my broken heart.”

  “Well, that’s how it goes in these rich families,” said Captain Bitts. “I will say that CIA man was awful good-looking and that concubine was sure beautiful. Looking at you, I can see how it must have happened.”

  He was convinced! He was not going to query the Countess Krak! For once my unprepossessing looks had stood me in good stead!

  I glanced nervously through a port at the dock. No sign of Heller or Krak.

  “Sail at once,” I ordered Bitts.

  “Well, we’re all right for fuel and water,” he said. “But we don’t have any fresh provisions. It will take a little while to get some from the chandler.”

  “My heart is so broken,” I said, “that I can’t stand the sight of this town another minute. Sail without them.”

  “How many in your party?” he said. “Just you? I ought to file a crew list.”

  “Omit it,” I said.

  “Where we going?” he said.

  “Anywhere outside the United States.”

  “Bermuda. I can get provisions at Saint George, Bermuda.”

  “Good,” I said, glancing out the port. “SAIL!”

  “You didn’t tell me how many there were in your party.”

  “Two. My niece and her boyfriend. SAIL!”

  “Do you have any baggage?”

  “It’s on the dock. Send your crew racing down to grab it and get this ship to sea. My heart won’t stand much more of this. SAIL!”

  “You’re the owner,” he said.

  At last!

  I raced out. I looked up and down the dock. Still no sign of anyone pursuing. I saw a telephone cable to the ship. Oh, gods, the Countess Krak might phone the captain.

  Four crewmen came down the gangplank, followed by the chief steward. They began to shift the tattered baggage aboard.

  “Hey, what’s this?” said Teenie, having finally gotten my attention. She was pointing at the Golden Sunset.

  “It’s my yacht,” I said.

  “Well, Jesus Christ,” she said. “That’s the biggest god (bleeped) yacht I ever saw. Man, you run this white-slave ring in style!”

  “Go aboard,” I begged her. “And take Madison with you.”

  The chief steward said, “The young lady, sir. I take it she goes in the owner’s suite?”

  “No way!” I said. “Give her one of her own. And give that young man another one.” My eyes were on that phone cable going up to the ship. It was still connected! Krak could still call.

  I grabbed Raht. I had seized Krak’s activator-receiver and 831 Relayer from a box. I pushed them into his hands.

  “The woman’s eye bug,” he said. “I’ll put it with the man’s, back on the Empire State antenna. You better keep Crobe’s. He’ll be back at the base by now.”

  “I’m giving the orders around here,” I snarled at him. “Take this.” I pushed the Teenie letter to Adora and Candy at him. “See that it is mailed in two days to the apartment: that won’t make the disappearance coincidental.”

  “Ah,” he said. “You ARE kidnapping her. I swear, Officer Gris, you do the craziest things. Of what possible use to you is a teenage Earth girl? Thin as a rail. No (bleeps). Leaping around. You could get into trouble, kidnapping her.”

  “You got no idea how much trouble she could be if I DIDN’T kidnap her,” I said. “Shows you’re not experienced in this profession at all. In addition to the charms you mention, she’s also a pathological liar and even believes she sees things that aren’t there. It’s NOT kidnapping her that would cause trouble. So when I need you to teach me my business, I’ll tell you.” Riffraff. Always getting out of line.

  I hastily wrote out a note. “Now see that this gets to Fatten, Farten, Burstein and Ooze, the advertising firm, today without fail.”

  He took it and read it. It said:

  FFBO,

  The jig is up on Madison. He has just been murdered and his car is at the end of the dock under Brooklyn Bridge, fathoms deep. Know positively the enemy is going to blow up 42 Mess Street. Close that operation at once.

  Smith

  “Why this?” said Raht.

  “Covers the trail,” I said.

  “Yes, but doesn’t that leave this whole Whiz Kid campaign up in the air?”

  “You knew about this?”

  “I have a bug on the Royal officer,” said Raht.

  “Well, the Whiz Kid double is in their hands,” I said. “They know who has been shooting at them. We’ve got to cover the trail.”

  “I get it,” said Raht. “You’ve abandoned your orders from Lombar Hisst.”

  I peered at him. With a sudden shock it occurred to me that he might be the unknown spy that was supposed to kill me if I failed. I snarled at him, “No, I haven’t! This is just a strategic withdrawal to regroup forces. I mean to counterattack.”

  “It looks like you’re the one getting attacked,” said Raht. “And if you take this yacht the woman bought, she’ll have you followed!”

  He had a point! Hastily, I scribbled another note.

  “Send this as a radiogram,” I said. “To her condo address.”

  He read it. It said:

  MADAM.

  REGRET TO INFORM YOU, YACHT

  HAS BEEN INDUCTED INTO THE

&nb
sp; TURKISH NAVY.

  THERE’S NOTHING ANYONE CAN DO

  ABOUT IT.

  HAVE SAILED FOR TURKEY. SORRY.

  CAPT. BITTS

  I thought it was pretty clever. The last place in the world I would go was Turkey.

  Captain Bitts himself was at my side now. “Sir, the pilot is aboard and the tug is on its way. We’re singled up on lines and ready to cast off.” He saluted and went up the gangway to await me on the deck.

  I said to Raht, “I’m sailing now. I won’t be back to the US.”

  “Can I count on that?” said Raht.

  I ignored his insolence. “You can count on the eventual demise of that Royal officer and that (bleeped) woman,” I said.

  I glanced along the dock. There was no sign of Heller or Krak. And then something caught my eye. The dock telephone man had parted the cable!

  I could make it!

  I rushed up the gangplank and they swung it away.

  The tug was there.

  Lines came off the dock bollards.

  Space gaped wider and wider between the hull and the pier.

  Still no sign of Heller or Krak.

  I had made it!

  The props were stirring a froth of river water at our stern.

  We were headed for sea!

  I stood and watched Manhattan fade away.

  For the first time in weeks my heart began to beat normally.

  I WAS STILL ALIVE! I WAS FREE!

  Yes, I had outwitted them.

  Not only that, but I had escaped the vile clutches of those ex-lesbians who had become my wives.

  What I had told Raht had not been a lie. I had time now to regroup my forces and return to the attack.

  And I would have been even further cheered as I boarded the ship—had my premonition cells been more active—cozy in the knowledge there would come a time when the vicious Countess Krak would be lying, helpless as putty, in my vengeful hands.

  I was still master of the fate of Earth.

  Lombar and Rockecenter still reigned in the heavens.

  I chuckled. I had won this round. And because I had, millions would suffer.

  It was a lovely spring afternoon.

  It promised a future very bright for me. And very dark indeed for Heller and the Countess Krak and Earth.

  PART FIFTY-SIX

  Chapter 1

  The Golden Sunset plowed through the gentle swell, a white dream ship on a blue ocean, followed by the flashing wings and calls of gulls. We were headed southeastwards for Bermuda and had already left Sandy Hook behind.

  To a man just freed from bondage, it was glorious to be aboard, even though I usually hated the sea.

  When the coastline seemed too far away for me to be stopped, I went along the paneled passageways to the owner’s suite.

  I thought I could detect a faint perfume and flinched. It reminded me of the Countess Krak.

  The steward was waiting for me.

  “The perfume!” I said. “You didn’t clean this place when the concubine left.”

  “A lovely lady, sir. But that isn’t a lady’s perfume. I’ve drawn the master a bath. You’re smelling the bath salts.”

  “I don’t need a bath!” I said indignantly. I had better get this riffraff in its place fast.

  “Oh, of course not,” he said. “But it would be so nice to wash the last vestiges of the shore away.”

  He had a point.

  I went into the beautifully paneled bathroom: the tub was feet high in bubbles. Before I could object he had stripped my clothes off and I was in the tub.

  Then he peeled the bandages off my face. “That’s a very nasty wound, sir. Mr. Haggarty give it to you?”

  “I fell on a skateboard.”

  “Well, that’s original anyway,” the steward said. “I saw it coming, you know. The way your concubine talked about him, it was obvious she was in love.”

  “Don’t talk about her!” I said.

  “Of course, sir. It’s pretty hard for somebody with only money to recommend him, to hold his own against a dashing figure like Mr. Haggarty.”

  “Don’t talk about him, either!” I shouted.

  “Ah, yes,” he said. “I can see it is a very painful subject. What did he hit you with?”

  “Will you shut up!” I cried.

  “Of course, sir. I didn’t mean to pry. But don’t be downcast. The world is full of women.”

  “Too (bleeped) full!” I grated. “That’s why I’m at sea.”

  “Then welcome to the club, sir. That’s why most sailors go to sea. Now, if you will just hold still, I’ll shave you and then we’ll rebandage that wound he gave you. Five stitches! My, my! Just lie there and soak in case you collected any more bruises. I put Epsom salts in the water along with the bubble bath just in case.”

  There was no handling this monomaniac. I was afraid to venture further remarks. I was puzzled as to where he got the idea there had been a love spat and a beat-up, but suddenly recalled that that was what I had told the captain. News certainly got around this ship in an awful hurry. I’d have to remember that.

  Wrapped at last in a huge bath towel, I was stood before the wardrobe. “I unpacked for you,” the steward said. “You seem to have left in a hurry, as you don’t have any yachting clothes. However, we can remedy that in Bermuda and I was relieved to see that you at least brought a dinner jacket. But we can dress later in that. Right now, I’ve laid out some hiking shorts and they’ll have to do.”

  The old Jew who had sold me such a large wardrobe hadn’t guessed I’d be going to sea. A German Tyrolean pair of leather pants and embroidered suspenders really didn’t fit the part very well.

  Stepping out into the passageway, I collided with the chief steward. “Oh, dear,” he said, “we’ll have to get you some proper clothes in Bermuda. But never mind, Mr. Bey, we’ll do all we can to make your cruise a success and mend your broken heart. Such a beautiful concubine. I don’t blame you for throwing it all up and tearing off to sea. But, never mind, what I have to know is for the benefit of the chef. We haven’t much that is fresh but we do have some things in the freezer. For dinner, he proposes Russian eggs, bouillabaisse, Rainbow Trout Montana, Venison Sauerbraten, Snow Peas Persian, Neapolitan Flambe with assorted Danish pastries, Gourmandise cheese and Bavarian Mocha. I know it is a little plain, but we were caught a bit short. Will it do?”

  “Yes,” I said, realizing suddenly I hadn’t really eaten well since I left Turkey.

  “Now, as to the wine . . .”

  “No wine!” I said. “I’m a teetotaler!”

  “Ah,” he said. “Against your religion.”

  “And everything else,” I said firmly.

  “Does that apply to your niece and her fiancé?”

  “Let them drown in it,” I said.

  “Of course, sir. Now, here is the sports director. I must leave you to enjoy your cruise.”

  “I have a program all drawn up for you,” said the sports director, pacing along beside me as I walked to the deck.

  “Tear it up,” I said. “I believe only in spectator sports.”

  “Well, now,” he said. “That is pretty drastic. I should have thought, from that wound he gave you, that you’d be itching to get in shape and take on that CIA man.”

  I shuddered with horror at the thought of going up against Heller hand-to-hand!

  “I am of a peaceful disposition,” I said. “Live and let live.”

  “Well, seeing that he stole your woman, sir, that’s a lot more peaceful than I could ever get. He won all our money, too. I was sort of hoping to arrange a return match.”

  “Not using me!” I said. “You have no idea how peaceful I am. A veritable dove. Olive branches spout from my teeth. Christian, too. Turn the other cheek.”

  “I thought you were a Moslem,” he said. “You just told the chief steward you were off liquor because of religion. No, Mr. Bey, you must realize that the physical well-being of our owner is my responsibility when he is at sea
. And when I see flab developing . . .”

  “What flab?”

  “The rubber tire you’re getting around your waist.”