"Pescara is about 120 miles from the Palagruza where the plane crashed, and it took us some time to get out there. The Adriatic is pretty stormy, lots of waves and tides.
"The plane went down in about a hundred feet of water. The Italian navy was trying to raise it with a tug and crane. It was pretty buried on the bottom in yellow mud and sand and lying upside down.
"A plane like that weighs forty or fifty tons and the crane they had just wasn't up to it.
"The Royal officer was helping them. They tried to pump some kind of foam into it but it was so broken up the foam just floated away. So the Royal officer went down in scuba gear and they began to send up bodies.
"Did you know there were a lot of kids on that plane? Well, anyway, they had to get another craft up to take the bodies. They had a priest there making the sign of the cross as each one came up. I counted thirty-five. The airline people said there were forty-nine on the plane including crew. But the crash had opened the side of the ship up and fourteen of the bodies, they figured, must have floated away. They spent a lot of time trying to find them and couldn't.
"The Royal officer had helicopters searching the sea and beaches, but they only found some bits of wreckage. So he went down again and they started passing up cabin hand baggage. They found a couple scarves identified as having been bought by the woman in the Rome airport and I think that was the first time he began to believe she had been aboard, because he started caving in.
"Finally the navy got some cutting tools up from Taranto and they opened up the baggage compartment and he found her suitcase. He seemed to lose interest after that.
"The authorities are trying to investigate the crash. The pilot recorder is missing..."
"(Bleep) you, Raht," I snarled. "Did you kill him or didn't you?"
"Now I know how you got poor Terb tortured and murdered. No planning. That place was completely swarming with Italian navy. If I had fired, I would have had to cross 120 miles of water in a slow boat with patrol craft on my tail. In order to do a job like this, you have to have the subject in some secluded place where nobody can witness it and you can get away."
"So you didn't kill him."
"Not yet. I'm just giving you a report."
I knew I would have to give firmer directions. "Where is he now?"
"Leaving the area. That's why I'm giving you this report."
"Raht, if you don't do this job, you're through. I'll kill you myself! You missed your opportunity!"
"There WAS no opportunity!" he snapped.
"Are you going to kill him or aren't you?"
"Of course I'm going to kill him. I think he is heading back for New York and I'll be right on his heels. The moment I get him alone, he's dead. But I need help."
"What kind?" I said suspiciously.
"When he's back in New York he'll be on your viewer again, right?"
"Right," I said.
"The first moment you pick him up, you've got to tell me. And you've got to tell me, if you can, where he is going. All I have to have is just a few minutes in a secluded place. I shoot, he's dead. And I can get away."
Delays, delays. I couldn't afford them. But there was hope. "I'll help you," I said.
He clicked off.
Then I cheered up a little. I had tried several times to get the Countess Krak and had failed. But now she was my prisoner and simply by dropping a couple gas pellets down her air chute, I could kill her.
I decided it would be the same with Heller. Even he couldn't survive with me directing the assassin every step of the way, right up to the final fatal shot from a well-planned ambush.
Chapter 5
I could not be absolutely sure Heller had gone back to New York. Raht had said nothing about him getting on a New York plane. He might come here to Turkey instead.
Nervously, I wondered if I could do anything to prevent that catastrophe.
I went out and checked the alarm bell at the gate. Musef and Torgut were alert, armed and ready to gun down any intruder.
In my secret room, I ran a check on the floor tile which, if pressed, sounded a general alarm to the hangar and assembled the whole base in battle order. It was fine.
I checked Krak's viewer. She was eating space emergency rations and studying the Voltar Confederacy Combined Compendium section on "Royal Proclamations." I knew she was thinking about those two forged Royal documents I had foisted off on her. I wished I knew what she had done with them. But never mind, if she tried to present them they would execute her.
Still, I thought I had better make sure her door was safely closed. I went down to the hangar and up the tunnel to the detention cells. From afar I looked at the outside of her door.
Even if he got here, Heller would never suspect I had her. They hadn't even written her name in the log.
I wondered if I had left any other clues lying around.
I ran into Captain Stabb. "We're all keened up for those bank robberies now," he said. "If it's in Europe or Africa, we can use the line-jumper. But if you're going over to America, I think it's better we take the tug. So we checked out her water and air today. She's got fuel enough to make it to the fifteenth Hell and back twenty times over."
"If you take Tug One" I said, "the assassin pilots will be tagging us with their two flying cannons."
"They won't touch us unless we try to leave the planet. By the way, we cut out your share of the wallets. It's in here."
I followed him into their stone-walled sleeping rooms. With a shock I saw they had laid out on the table the valuables of the passengers and crew. Evidence!
There were wristwatches, rings, travellers checks, money and I.D. cards!
"Devils," I said. "We can't have this stuff lying around. It would connect us to the crash!"
"Well, we were just waiting until you came down. We'll pry the stones out of the jewelry, melt the gold...."
"And throw the watches away," I said.
He shrugged.
"And don't try to forge those travellers checks," I warned him.
He frowned.
I was about to take it up further when my eye lighted on something.
Krak's purse!
Talk about leaving evidence around! I grabbed it.
"Here, here," said Stabb. "You can't do that. There's a lot of money in it."
"If that Royal officer came in here and found this, he'd shoot us to bits!"
"Is he going to come here?"
"He might."
"I thought he was going to be killed."
I said, "That's in progress this very minute."
"Oh, well, then. Why worry?"
"He might come here first."
"Oho!" said Captain Stabb. "In that case I'll order my men to go armed even in the hangar. You don't have anything to worry about, Officer Gris. We'll shoot him on sight. Okay?"
I was somewhat mollified.
By giving up my share of the loot and the money, they agreed to destroy the evidence and let me take Krak's purse away.
Back in my room I went through it.
MY SQUEEZA CREDIT CARD!
After all the trouble that had caused, I had it back!
It cheered me up for hours.
I regarded it as a portent, an omen of good fortune. To me it looked like things were really on the mend.
Chapter 6
Just as my nerves were about to snap like overtightened wires, Heller showed up on his viewer.
What a relief!
He was debarking from a Pan Am plane at John F. Kennedy Airport in New York. It was very early morning there.
He was walking very slowly. At immigration they had to ask him twice for his passport. At customs the stone-faced official had to open his bag himself.
Heller walked out to the lobby. His name was being called and he went over to the message desk.
The chauffeur from the condo was waiting for him there.
"Did you bring the bag?" said Heller.
"Yes, sir," said the chauffeur. "And the Porsc
he is in the parking lot."
Heller reached into his pocket and came up with a banknote. He handed it to the chauffeur. "You better catch a cab back. I'm not returning home."
"Sir, I do not mean to intrude, but do you think that is wise? We all think you would be much better in familiar surroundings."
"That's the trouble with them," said Heller in a dead voice. "They're too familiar."
"Sir, Mr. Epstein said..."
"I know, I phoned him from the plane just after I phoned you. I know you all mean it kindly. But all
I want is to go off by myself a little while and try to get over this."
My luck was holding! This was exactly what I needed!
Hastily, I called Raht on the radio. "Where are you?"
"I'll be at JFK in about an hour. I'm on TWA from Rome via Brussels." I could hear the background roar of the plane engines.
"He's going to be off by himself. Call me the instant you land."
"Will do," said Raht. He clicked off.
My attention went back to Heller. He was following the chauffeur across a parking lot. The Porsche was sitting there.
The cat!
He was at the window.
The chauffeur unlocked the door and the cat sprang for Heller's chest. Heller petted it and put the cat on his shoulder.
"At least he'll be some company for you," said the chauffeur. "He's just been moping around the house. I put his food and things in the back like you said."
Heller got in, took the keys and started the car. The chauffeur saluted and Heller drove away.
"Well, cat," he said, "I guess we've got to get used to her being gone." There was a catch in his voice. My screen went misty.
Oh, this was ideal. Heller wouldn't be alert at all! He was even driving kind of slow and wooden. I had planned much better than I thought. I had depressed him beyond belief. He would be a sitting duck!
He was driving north up the Van Wyck Expressway. It did not tell me yet where he was going.
He passed the turns that would take him into New York and drove straight on.
He entered the Whitestone Expressway and shortly crossed the Bronx Whitestone Bridge. He continued north on the Hutchinson River Parkway. At Exit 6 he turned into the New England Thruway.
Suddenly I understood. I could not believe my luck! He was heading for the roadhouse in Connecticut! I was sure of it!
Despite old blind ladies and deputy sheriffs I would have to pilot Raht in there.
Well, I could do it.
I grabbed a map. The whole trip up there from JFK Airport was only about forty-five miles.
He turned off the expressway and went through a town. He went along the state highway and turned onto the cow path. He came up to the abandoned service station and the old lady came out.
"Where's your sweetheart today?" she said.
Heller couldn't answer her. My viewer misted.
He got the jeep out and put the Porsche in the garage. He transferred his baggage and drove off.
I had realized before that this old highway, long since grown over, was the same one which used to serve the roadhouse. And sure enough, he drove along over brush and between trees and came to the creek with the broken wooden bridge. He put the jeep in four-wheel drive, went through the creek bed, pulled up the far bank and was shortly stopped under the huge maple trees.
He unlocked the door, carried his baggage in and with very slow movements, quite unlike him, began to straighten up one of the old bedrooms so that it could be used for sleeping quarters.
My radio went live. "I've cleared in," said Raht.
"Oh, are you in luck," I said. "Now listen carefully." And I gave him very explicit directions to rent a car and where to go. "And when you get in sight of the abandoned service station, leave your car and continue on foot. The old lady will come out. She carries a shotgun for intruders. Shoot her. Then proceed on foot." And I gave him the rest of the directions to get to the roadhouse. "When you get across the creek, hide under a bush and call him. He is certain to come to the door, thinking it is one of the deputy sheriffs. When he does, shoot him."
"I've got all that," said Raht. "There's something else. I want you to give me the direct order, very explicit, to kill a Royal officer, by name. I have a recorder on right here in the terminal. In that way, if this ever comes to trial, it's your responsibility."
I almost laughed to myself. The order came from Lombar Hisst and he controlled Voltar, even the Emperor. I said, "I am Officer Gris. You, Agent Raht, are ordered to kill one Jettero Heller, Grade X Combat Engineer of the Fleet." I added the date and time.
"Now one more thing," said Raht. "If I do this I want ten thousand dollars cash. I'm not in this business for my health. You've had me on lowered allowance and pay for months and I mean to get my own back."
I almost laughed. He had just made it worth ten thousand to me to shoot him the next time I laid eyes on him. "Of course," I said. "I'll tell you what. I'll make it twenty thousand. How's that?"
There was silence at the other end. Then an excited, "It's a deal! But I'm not going to rent a car. I'm going into town first to steal one and also get a silenced rifle. It'll only add an hour to my schedule. I want to make awful sure of this. All right?"
"I hope it's a big caliber," I said.
"Will do. Officer Gris, you've made my day!"
He clicked off.
I polished my hands one against the other.
Heller dead!
This I was going to ENJOY!
Chapter 7
Heller was sitting in the main room of the old bootleggers' roadhouse in Connecticut. The door was open but the light was dim.
He was holding in his hands a handkerchief with the initial K on it. His head was down. He must be feeling very bad.
The cat seemed to sense his mood and was just sitting on the floor, looking at him.
Two hours had gone by and he had not moved.
My radio went live. Raht's muted voice. "I'm on the other side of the creek. I can see the roadhouse."
"Be very silent," I said. "He has good ears. He's sitting in the main room and the door is open. What kind of a rifle do you have?"
"Sako Safari Grade .300 Winchester Magnum. Thirty-two hundred feet per second muzzle velocity, more than a ton and a half foot-pounds of impact."
"Excellent," I said. "It will blow his head off."
"Yes. And just to make sure, I've got specially loaded explosive bullets. The rifle is silenced."
"Did you get the old blind woman?"
"I sure took care of her," he said. "You're on the level about that twenty thousand now, aren't you?"
"Indeed so," I said. "Now listen, just angle around until you can see in the door and let him have it. Shoot to kill, first shot."
"Got it. Be sure and tell me if he hears anything or moves."
"I will," I said.
I watched the screen carefully. Heller was just sitting there. A perfect target.
Minutes went by. Then my radio went live again. Raht's voice was a barely audible whisper. "I am under a bush about twenty-five yards from the house. But I can't see in the door. Trees are in the way. Is it all right if I call to him and get him to come out on the porch? The second I see his head, I can fire."
"Do it," I said impatiently.
I tensely watched my screen.
Then I heard a faint voice through my speaker: "Hey, whitey engineer!" Oh good, he'd think it was a deputy.
Heller's head lifted. He was looking toward the open door.
The call repeated: "Whitey engineer!"
Heller put the handkerchief in his pocket. He reached around to the back of his belt and drew the .45 Llama automatic. I hadn't realized he was armed or would be suspicious.
He got up.
He went to the door.
He didn't see anything and stepped further out on the porch.
BLAM!
An explosive bullet crashed into stone to his left.
Raht had m
issed!
Heller went down on one knee. He was looking at a bush.
He raised the .45 and, without sighting, fired!
There was a yelp of pain!
Then a blast of fire from the bush.
BLAM!
The visio on my screen went dead!
There was the sound, metallic. The pistol dropping to the stone. Then the thud of a body falling.
BLAM!
My speaker was dead.
I sat there for an eerie moment.
No visio.
No sound.
Gradually it was borne in upon me that Heller had been hit in the temple, destroying the visio. Then he had dropped his pistol and he himself had fallen. And Raht, taking no chances, had fired again, hitting him in the head and destroying the audio bug.
I sat very still.
I could not believe my luck.
HELLER WAS DEAD!
Chapter 8
I sat there in a daze.
For all these long months he had made my life a mess of assorted Hells. And he was gone.
I had expected to feel surges of jubilation. Instead, I was sort of numb.
A fantasy that his ghost might come and haunt me passed through my mind.
I shook it off. Psychologists and psychiatrists were all agreed men had no souls. They were just animals, just a bunch of cells. There was no life after death. Thank Heavens for that! It sort of steadied me.
Maybe if I shared this news the expected joy would come.
I got to my feet. They were festered and painful. I picked up the radio and limped down the passageway to the hangar. I found Stabb.
"I've got good news for you," I said. "The Royal officer has just been executed. He's dead!"
Stabb's beady eyes flared. "You don't mean it!"
"Fact," I said. "He's just had his head blown off."
Stabb gave a bark of joy. He yelled to his crew. He told them and they cheered.
"Oh, Gods," said Stabb, "that should happen to every condemned officer in the Fleet! Them and their high-and-mighty ways. How can an honest pirate do his job with (bleepards) like that around! So he's dead, is he? Well, let's get cracking on the bank robberies, now that that is off your mind."
My radio went live. "Officer Gris! I've got the blood staunched now. He got me in the leg. I'm in bad shape, Officer Gris. I can't walk. You've got to get me out of here."
Mission Earth 07: Voyage of Vengeance Page 32