Mission Earth 07: Voyage of Vengeance

by L. Ron Hubbard

  "Naw, you don't know nothing. That's her daughter."

  The first one looked back. "Oh, yes. I remember now. But she's prettier than her mother."

  The radio came live. "Officer Gris?"

  "Right here," I said.

  "Have I got the right woman? She's prettier than the photograph and she signed some funny name for those kids."

  "That's the woman," I said.

  "Good. Had me blinking for a minute."

  "Carry on," I said. "But be very careful. She's deadly and very deceptive."

  "I'll watch my step," he said. He clicked off.

  She had gone in a shop and Jeeb moved so as to keep her in direct view through the door.

  I could faintly hear her voice above the concourse clatter and chatter. I turned up the volume.

  She was buying silk scarves. I hadn't realized she could speak Italian now. She must have gotten coaching from Heller.

  She had a green one and was holding it up to the light. It was a very elegant scarf. "I will take it," she said, "it matches his eye color. Put it in a nice box. It's a present for a doctor friend of mine."

  Prahd. She was buying a present for him.

  She was looking at other scarves. Then she found a long cravat that was light tan. It had a pattern of antiques guns. It was pre-tied. "And I'll take this one for another friend so wrap that as a present, too."

  She meant it for me. I shuddered. Guns to shoot me and a noose to hang myself. Oh, the implication was very plain. It was a good thing I was acting!

  When she had her wrapped gifts, she went to a restaurant and ordered and began to eat her dinner.

  Jeeb, clear across the airport cafe, was eating his and

  keeping an eye on her. He annoyed me a little bit by choosing such a fancy dinner for himself with my money. I would speak to him about it when this was done.

  Right now it was coming up to deadline for my own departure.

  I went to my room and dressed in a warm, electric-heated ski suit and boots and hood. It can get pretty cold at thirty thousand feet.

  I looked at myself in the mirror. The jet black of the costume would minimize me as a target in case there was shooting.

  I buckled on some guns. I put some other items in my pockets I might need. This time I didn't forget the control star which would bring the Antimancos to heel if they got out of line.

  I picked up the radio and viewer.

  I went down into the underground hangar.

  The line-jumper crew was all ready and eager to go.

  I clambered up the ladder to the cabin.

  COUNTESS KRAK, I'LL GET YOU THIS TIME!

  Chapter 9

  The line-jumper leaped up through the illusion of the mountaintop and out into the inky night.

  The two Antimanco pilots were hunched silhouettes in the glow of their instruments and screens.

  Captain Stabb sat beside me on the crew bench. Behind us the other engineer crouched.

  We were swiftly at seventy thousand feet and racing at two thousand miles an hour through the night, westbound for Rome.

  Through Jeeb's camera viewer came the call, "Flight 931, Mediterranean Airlines for Istanbul, boarding now at Gate Five."

  Captain Stabb looked at me, his beady eyes glittering in the reflection from the viewer that lay between us. "I wonder if there's anything in her cargo hold."

  "It's the woman we want," I said. "The banks come afterwards."

  "We might just be lucky," he said.

  "That's the hostage there," I said, pointing at the Countess Krak standing in the line to board. "The one with the two gold wrapped packages under her arm."

  "Is there anything valuable in them?" he said.

  "I'll leave it to you to find out," I said. "But getting the hostage is the thing."

  "Don't worry," he said, "we're experts at this sort of thing. I could tell you some tales that would curl your hair."

  I was not interested in having my hair curled. All I wanted in my hands was Krak!

  We flew and very shortly, far below, with the aid of the viewscreen, I could see the lights of Rome.

  Stabb was looking at his watch. He stood up on the seat to see over the pilot's shoulders. "Got the airport runway on their screens."

  He looked back at the viewer. The passengers were boarding. Now we would see if our luck was still holding.

  The passengers were taking their seats. Jeeb was holding back. The Countess Krak put her presents in an overhead rack and sank down into a window seat on the left of the aisle. She was about at the center of the plane.

  There were not all that many passengers. I tried to count them and estimated forty. The night flight to Istanbul, scheduled to arrive there at dawn, must not be all that popular. They were businessmen and tourists and women and kids. A coach flight.

  LUCK!

  The seat directly behind Krak was empty!

  The lapel camera moved. Jeeb was settling himself just behind the Countess Krak.

  "That's wonderful!" I said.

  "Good man, Jeeb," said Stabb. "Didn't you see him bribe the counter clerk?"

  I groaned a little bit. He was certainly spending my money!

  One of the Antimanco pilots said over his shoulder to Stabb, "Give us the word so we can identify it when it taxis out."

  Stabb was watching the viewer. The mutter of plane engines was coming from it. "Now!" he said.

  "Got it," the Antimanco replied. "It's moving on my screen."

  Presently, watching the viewer, Stabb said, "Taking off!"

  "Verifies," said the Antimanco pilot.

  Shortly, the other pilot said, "He's heading easterly. That's the one!"

  Captain Stabb had out his map and turned a subdued flashlight on it. "Now it has the width of Italy to cross. Then it's over the Adriatic Sea. Then it would hit the coast again over Lake Scutari on the border between Yugoslavia and Albania and then over the Dinaric Alps. But I elect for the sea. It will be over that stretch of water for more than half an hour. All right?"

  "Excellent," I approved.

  He waddled ahead and bent over the pilots, showing them the map.

  I looked back at the viewer. I could only see the top of the Countess Krak's head.

  The Antimancos were watching their viewers. Captain Stabb came back. "They've got about a hundred and fifty miles to go," he told me. "Then they'll start over the sea." He turned to the engineer behind us. "When I give the word, blanket their radio."

  The engineer nodded and looked down at the device he had on the floor.

  Tense minutes ticked by.

  "They'll be over water in three minutes," an Antimanco pilot said.

  "Start dropping down," said Stabb. "Blanket their radio," he told the engineer.

  The line-jumper was dropping so rapidly the viewer tried to float.

  "Range two miles and closing," said an Antimanco pilot.

  "Pace their speed exactly when we hit," said Captain Stabb. "We don't want shore radar to see anything odd." He turned to the engineer. "Stand by tractor beams."

  "Range two hundred yards and closing," said an Antimanco pilot.

  I looked at the viewer. All was calm aboard that flight. An attendant up near the door was getting a pillow for a child.

  Captain Stabb grabbed Jeeb's radio. "NOW!" he barked.

  The viewer showed that Jeeb's lapel camera was rising up.

  Jeeb reached over the seat. He shoved the back of the Countess Krak's head forward with his left hand.

  He raised his right and savagely struck a paralysis dagger into her shoulder.

  The Countess Krak tried to rise up.

  The flight attendant screamed.

  "Range zero!" barked an Antimanco pilot.

  "Tractor beams!" roared Stabb.

  The airliner's back was gripped and slammed up against the line-jumper underside. There was a lurch.

  I looked down. The engineer had thrown the hatch open. The back of the airliner's fuselage was visible, held to the line
-jumper's bell.

  "Maintain that ship's speed!" shouted Stabb.

  I looked at the viewer.

  BEDLAM!

  People were trying to get out of their seats. Children began to scream.

  Jeeb backed down the aisle.

  "Cutters!" shouted Stabb.

  The engineer went down through the hatch.

  A pilot was coming through the airliner flight deck door.

  "Can I shoot?" shouted Jeeb into his radio.

  "Fire away!" I shouted back.

  Jeeb raised a glass blastick and let drive. The pilot fighting his way toward him and three people around him dissolved in electric fire!

  "I've got it!" shouted our engineer.

  I looked down. He had opened a large circular hole in the top of the airliner.

  Captain Stabb was instantly scrambling down the ladder the engineer had used. Stabb dropped through and out of sight.

  The bedlam increased from the viewer and I could hear it coming up through the hole.

  Stabb moved into sight in the viewer. His huge arms were flailing out left and right, knocking passengers back. A child got in his way and he hurled it screaming at the flight deck door.

  Then Stabb had something in his hand. He wrenched the door wide open.

  The copilot struck at him. Captain Stabb's club smashed his face to bloody pulp.

  Stabb was in the flight deck for a long minute while the screams went on. A businessman sought to tackle Jeeb and Jeeb fired again.

  The view went clear.

  Stabb came out of the flight deck. He was holding the pilot recording box on which they record last minute occurrences before they crash.

  Another child, struggling up, got in his way. He smashed its skull with the box he held.

  Stabb came opposite Krak's seat. A man clawed at him and he smashed him with the box. The captain was looking in the rack for the gold wrapped packages. He found them and tore one's wrapping off. He looked at the silk scarf and threw it away. He ripped up the other one, found another scarf. He tossed it aside in disgust.

  Several passengers were still moving. Systematically, Stabb battered them to death. Then he and Jeeb began to rip watches off wrists and wallets from pockets. They emptied a bag full of baby clothes and threw their loot in.

  Then Stabb bent over in the center of the ship and lifted up the Countess Krak. He threw her over his shoulder and walked back toward Jeeb. The Countess Krak's hair was hiding her face. Her arms trailed, limp.

  Stabb made a gesture and Jeeb went up the ladder.

  Jeeb appeared at my level. He put the bag of loot aside and reached back. He picked Krak off the captain's shoulder and tossed her on the floor.

  Stabb came up.

  "We still over the sea?" he shouted.

  "Miles to go to shore," an Antimanco pilot shouted back.

  "Stand clear!" roared Stabb. "Engineer, let go the tractor beams!"

  I looked down through the opening as the ladder was pulled in.

  The airliner suddenly fell away from us.

  It went over on one wing. It began to spiral down.

  I felt very heavy and then realized we were climbing at a rapid rate.

  An Antimanco pilot called, "There's islands below us. It says on the map they're called the Palagruza."

  That wasn't so good. I didn't want it crashed on an island. "Track that airliner carefully!" I ordered.

  I looked down through the open hatch. It was black. I could not see anything. Suddenly it snapped closed. I got up and looked at the screens.

  They had the airliner in clear view with nonvisible light bands. It was swooping, its engines still going.

  "It won't pull out," said Stabb. "I wrecked the controls."

  It seemed to be heading in a general, floppy way toward a large island. I held my breath. It had to crash in the sea and leave no traces.

  Suddenly it went into a vertical power dive and did not come out.

  It struck with a huge explosion of spray just offshore of the larger island.

  I sighed with relief.

  I turned my attention to the floorboards.

  There lay the Countess Krak. She would be out for another three hours, at least.

  I did not want to touch her. I began a gesture to Captain Stabb. "Tie her hands and feet and tie them well."

  The Countess Krak was deadly no more. She was in my hands!

  PART SIXTY-ONE

  Chapter 1

  We returned to the Earth base in the mountain at Afyon, Turkey, well before dawn.

  We dropped through the electronic illusion that even radar reflected as part of the mountain's peak. We came to rest on the hangar floor.

  I did not want to touch the Countess Krak. I signalled Stabb to pick her up.

  He threw her over his shoulder and clambered down the ladder. "We got our hostage," he said to me. "Now, when do we start robbing the banks?"

  "I have to make sure they have gold shipments in them," I said. "I'll get my lines out and let you know first thing."

  "Where do I put the hostage?" said Stabb. "We want her in a safe place."

  "Oh, I've got one," I said. "Follow me."

  I walked into the prison block and all the way to the end. Here lay the big cell I had built for Crobe, completely escape-proof even for the Countess Krak.

  I worked the combination lock on the outer door. I unlocked the inner door. I threw on the lights. The place was filthy: it had never been cleaned up. And Crobe didn't care where he did what he did.

  There was a flooding lever that would wash the place out. I reached for it and then I stayed my hand. It served the (bleepch) right.

  I stepped in. A horrible stench. I gestured toward the bed.

  Stabb walked in and threw her on it.

  We withdrew. I securely locked the inner door. I closed the outer one and spun the combination.

  I looked through the small square port. What a delight! There she lay, tousled and defeated-my prisoner. At last I had removed her as a menace!

  When I thought over her list of crimes against me, I was appalled that I had let her live so long. What an oversight!

  A puckish whim hit me. I could not spit on her. But I could make sure that when she woke she would be chilled to the bone.

  I reached over and pulled the flooding lever.

  Sprays jetted out from the walls in a blinding rush. Their force was driving filth off the walls and along the floor and into the drains. I had not intended that. I only wanted the place soaking wet.

  I tried to shut the lever off but it was an automatic set. That (bleeped) construction chief had done his work too well when he had fitted out this place. The jet sprays ran their course. The water vapor hung in the cell. A hissing sound started up. The water was followed by jets of drying air! That was not what I intended at all! I wrestled with the lever but it was moving back at its own speed.

  Upset, I looked back through the small port. I could not believe my eyes! It was nearly time for the paralysis dagger to wear off but the cold water had revived her.

  She was looking at her bonds.

  Then she did something with her wrists. A turning twist.

  Her hands were free!

  She grabbed at her ankles, and faster than I could follow she had her feet untied!

  Belatedly I reached for the clamp which would pin her to the bed. I closed it. I stared back into the room.

  The clamps came down but they closed on a bed with nobody in it!

  She was standing, dishevelled, in the middle of the floor.

  She saw my face at the port.

  Her mouth framed, "You!" She pointed. Straight at me!

  I reeled back. No telling what that finger could do to my wits.

  Far down the corridor, I looked back at the door.

  Oh, she was dangerous! Part of her theater training must have been as an escapist. She had made nothing of those bonds.

  I would have to handle that port. Somebody else might look in. Nobody knew the
combination to that cell but me. Nobody had a key to the inner door but me. Still, I must not take any chances.

  I went into the hangar and found a square of cloth and some tape.

  I sneaked back up the passageway, staying very low so she would not see me.

  All in one motion, I taped the cloth over the port.

  I withdrew to a safe distance. The cell was soundproof and escape-proof. I would forbid anyone to go near her or to even take her meals. Ha! Maybe she would starve to death.

  Then I recalled that I had thrown a whole case of emergency space rations in there for Crobe, enough for a year or two.

  The air port.

  My wits cleared. When the time came to kill her, it was all right. My cunning design had taken care of that. Nobody could get out that air shaft. But poison-gas capsules could be dropped down it from outside the mountain.

  I felt easier.

  When I had killed Heller and no longer needed her for a bargaining pawn, a capsule or two could be dropped down and that would be the final breath of the Countess Krak.

  Only then did I permit myself to feel I had done well.

  The way was wide open now.

  All I had to do was kill Heller.

  And all my problems would be solved.

  I went to sleep congratulating myself on how clever I had been.

  I dreamed I was at a banquet, attended by a thousand Lords. It was the banquet of my inauguration as the Chief of the Apparatus, loyal servant of the redoubtable Lombar Hisst who now controlled all Voltar.

  Chapter 2

  The following morning I woke up and had a bright idea. I didn't have to go near the cell to keep an eye on the Countess Krak. All I had to do was get Raht to ship me the activator-receiver for her bugs.

  No sooner thought of than done. I picked up the two-way-response radio off the bedside table and called Raht.

  "For Hells' sakes, Officer Gris," he said, "don't you ever think of anybody but yourself? It's one o'clock in the morning here."

  "Time means nothing when duty calls," I said. "Get down to the Empire State Building and ship me the woman's activator-receiver."

  "Why? Isn't she in New York?"

  "We won't be needing them anymore," I said. "So step lively and get them out by International Spurt Express to me. I don't want them lying around. Possible Code break."