One soldier tapped Den on the shoulder. “Let her go, kid. You can get going. She will stay.”
“No—” Den protested.
The nearest soldier tore Den out of her arms. “Go, while you can!”
“But where?…”
Noy had risen upright. “Do as they tell you, Den. Walk in that direction. You will find a taxi. Have it take you to the palace.” She dug into her skirt pocket for some change. “Take these to pay the taxi. When you get to the palace, go directly to my office. You will find Marsop. Tell him I will try to see him soon.”
“Enough talk,” the second soldier said harshly, fingering his revolver. With his, free hand he gave Den a shove. “Go, leave, at once!”
Den turned away and began to run.
Noy watched him, her eyes filling with tears of relief.
The soldiers had flanked her now. Each had her by an arm. Roughly they swung her around toward the trees.
“Come, Madame,” one said.
“Where are we going?”
“To have a talk with someone waiting for you,” the first soldier answered. “Now, get going, faster, faster!”
Den Sang had found a taxi and taken it straight to the palace. Inside, he had hurried to his mother’s office, where Marsop was seated on a corner of her desk with his eyes fixed on the phone.
The second that Den entered, Marsop rose and embraced him.
“What happened?” Marsop wanted to know. “Where is your mother?”
“They took her, two men took her. They sent me out to see her on the corner, and then they followed and grabbed her and let me go. She told me to find a taxi and come here.”
“But where did they take her?” Marsop begged the boy.
“I don’t know. They made me run away for a taxi. Then they started taking her toward the trees—”
“What trees?”
“Trees at the edge of the park. I could see them after they took off the blindfold.”
“You were blindfolded?”
“Yes, then they untied it and there she was. Then they grabbed her.”
“They had guns?”
“Yes, Marsop, each of them, under their army uniforms.”
Marsop had been standing over the boy, and now he bent toward Den and took him by the shoulders.
“All right, Den, now tell me about yourself from the start. You were in school. You left—”
“With my friends. I ran to the car and went inside.”
“That wasn’t your car. Your car is still here.” Den lifted his hands. “It was the same car, Marsop.’,
Marsop understood. “They substituted another just like the Mercedes. Then what?”
“I didn’t see Chalie at first. I was busy waving to my friends. The driver started the car away, and then I saw that he wasn’t Chalie.”
“No, he wasn’t. What happened next?”
“We drove away from the school. A big man who must have been hiding on the floor in back jumped up, crawled over the front seat, and pushed me to the middle. He took a handkerchief and blindfolded me.”
“Did he say anything? Did the men speak?”
“No. They drove on and on and then stopped.”
“How long did the drive take you?”
Den was lost. “I don’t know.”
“Guess.”
“A long time. Maybe fifteen minutes. Maybe more.”
Marsop tried to analyze the drive, the distances beyond Khan Koen and Bot Roads, but it was impossible.
“Then what happened?” Marsop asked.
“It felt like we went down in a garage like ours. They pulled me out of the car. We went through a door to stairs. They helped me go up the stairs.”
“One flight? Two?”
“Two flights. I counted the steps. They pushed me into a room. When I was inside they took the blindfold off.”
“Tell me what you saw.” said Marsop. “Try to remember, Den.”
“Four men in the room, in uniforms.”
“Did you recognize any of them?”
“Did they use each other’s names?”
“No, they were quiet, except for one of them. He asked for Mother’s private number. He said he’d kill me if I didn’t give it to them. I gave it, and he went into the next room to call.”
“Yes, I answered the call,” said Marsop. “It was for your mother to go to see you alone.”
“Then they tied the blindfold back on and took me down the stairs to what I guess was the garage. We drove around many corners. Then we stopped, and they dragged me out and put me behind some trees, until the blindfold was untied. Then I saw Mother.”
Marsop sighed. “And they took her away. And made you run off.”
“Yes. Why did they want Mother?”
Marsop stared at the telephone on Noy’s desk. “I expect we’ll know soon enough.”
They sat talking about inconsequentials, about school, Den’s classes, and soccer football—although Den was worried about his mother.
When the white phone on Noy’s desk rang, they both started.
Marsop went quickly behind Noy’s desk, perched on the front of her swivel chair, and lifted the receiver.
“President Noy’s office,” he said.
“This is Noy,” the strained voice on the other end said.
“Thank God it’s you!” exclaimed Marsop. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. The important thing is Den. Did he return safely?”
“He’s with me now. Unharmed.”
“Tell him I love him.”
Marsop called over the telephone to Den. “Your mother sends her love. She says she’s all right. Noy, is anyone listening to you?”
“Yes and no. In the room, not on an extension.”
“Do you recognize anyone?”
There was a silence.
Marsop pressed on. “Is Colonel Chavalit one of them?”
“No.”
“You’re kidnapped?”
Noy hesitated. “I’m told I’m being held in custody.”
Marsop could hear an indistinct male voice from somewhere beyond Noy.
Immediately she said to someone, “Yes, yes, I will hurry. Marsop—”
“I’m listening.”
“I’ll be released,” said Noy, “but there is a condition. You must do what they want you to do. With my approval, of course.”
“Go on,” said Marsop anxiously.
“You must announce on television and to the press that I will not run for election,” said Noy. “Because of poor health,” she added. “You will inform General Nakorn that as president I have ordered a special election to be held a week from today. Do you have that right?”
“I’m afraid so,” said Marsop dully. “You will not run for election against Nakorn because of ill health. I am to call him and tell him it is your wish that a special election be held in one week. When am I to do this, Noy?”
“Now,” said Noy. “Call General Nakorn right now about the election. Arrange to appear on prime time on television tomorrow evening with a short statement that I am in the hands of my physicians.”
“When will you be released?”
“The day after the election,” said Noy.
Marsop wondered if he dared say more. “Is there anything else you want me to do?”
“It would be good if you could get someone from the outside to visit the palace and confirm to the world that”—she paused—”that I am sick.”
“Someone?” Marsop echoed. “Who?”
That instant the telephone rang off.
Marsop put down the receiver slowly.
He was on his own and afraid.
There were calls he had been instructed to make, but there was one he must make before any of the others.
Because he had understood Noy. He knew who the someone was. The person who must come visiting.
Immediately he picked up the telephone again.
In Beijing, President Underwood sat in the front row of the Great
Hall of the People with members of the Chinese Politburo Standing Committee.
He had just finished delivering his speech, a successful one, he thought, when he saw Ezra Morrison hastening along the front row toward him.
Morrison came before him, knelt, and said, “Mr. President, there’s a long-distance call for you.”
“Washington?”
“No, Lampang.”
“Who’s calling? Noy?”
“It’s Minister Marsop. He says it is extremely urgent.”
Underwood came to his feet immediately, worried. “Where do I take the call?”
Apologizing to those around him, he followed Morrison out of the Hall to a side door where a Chinese official was waiting for them.
The three hurried to a small room, empty except for a table and chair, with a telephone on the table. The receiver was off the hook. Underwood picked it up. “Marsop?”
“Yes, Mr. President. I’m sorry to interrupt, but I must speak to you. About Noy. She" The telephone went dead.
Underwood showed his irritation. “Disconnected.”
The Chinese official took the phone, punched a button, reached someone, presumably the operator, and began to speak in Chinese.
At last he hung up. “If you will wait here, Mr. President, the operator will try to get you the caller in Lampang again.”
“Je-sus,” Underwood said to Morrison, “what can that be? Well, not a thing to do but wait.”
“I’m sure it’ll only be a minute,” said Morrison.
It was five minutes more than a minute when the telephone pealed again.
Underwood snatched up the receiver. “Marsop?”
“I am here again.”
“You were beginning to mention Noy.” Underwood waved Morrison and the Chinese official out of the room, and when the door was closed, he clutched the phone tightly. “Marsop, is anything wrong?”
“Something is wrong, yes.”
“We are not on a safe line. Does it matter?”
“I cannot go into details. But I have spoken to Noy. She could not speak freely, except one thing. She wanted me to get in touch with you. I was afraid to interrupt, but—”
“You did the right thing,” said Underwood. “Noy can’t speak to me, yet you spoke to her. It makes no sense.”
“You will understand when I can explain.”
“You want me to come to Lampang?”
“If possible, before you return to Washington. I will be here waiting in the palace for you. When you are here, I will explain everything in person. It is better.”
Underwood felt a constriction in his chest. He did not like the sound of the call. He was gripped by anxiety.
“Is this a matter I can do something about?”
“I don’t know, Mr. President. At any rate, Noy seemed to think so. She feels you can be helpful.”
“Then I’ll come there at once.”
“When can I expect you, sir?”
“Overnight,” said Underwood. “I was going to leave China this evening. I still will. But I’ll come straight to Lampang, before going to Washington.”
“We would be most grateful,” said Marsop.
“I gather this is really urgent.”
“Yes, it is.”
Underwood inhaled and then exhaled. “I’ll see you sometime in the morning.”
He was immobile for half a moment, trying to imagine what was going on. He had a suspicion, yet he wasn’t certain. But he was certain what was to be done next.
He rose, left the room, and went into the corridor of the Great Hall, where Morrison was restlessly pacing.
Morrison came to him at once. “What is it, Matt?”
“I don’t know exactly. But something is wrong down there.”
“Something urgent?”
“Marsop left no doubt about that. I’m needed there as soon as possible.”
“You mean you’re going to take Air Force One to Lampang before going to Washington?”
Underwood took his secretary of state by the arm and moved him down the corridor.
“I must do this,” said Underwood. “I have no choice. It’s something I wanted to do anyway.”
Morrison showed his dismay. “It’s a drastic move, Matt. It screws up a lot of things. You’re expected in Washington.”
“I’m also expected in Lampang. That gets top priority in my book.”
“Well, you have an idea what is going on, and I don’t. So whatever you say.”
“That’s what I say, Ezra. Lampang first. Look, you oversee our scheduled return. You and Blake get on the press plane and take off. Just go on as if nothing has happened. I’ll take Air Force One after that along with the Secret Service.”
“There will be a lot of questions,” Morrison said gloomily. “You insist on this, Matt?”
“I insist on it,” said Underwood.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Hy Hasken had taken a taxi back to the Great Wall Hotel in Beijing, and in the privacy of his single room he put through a call to Sam Whitlaw at the offices of The National Television Network in New York City.
Still suffering a hangover of jet lag from his endless flight to China, Hasken was mixed up about the time difference between Beijing and New York.
When a night editor made him aware that he had the time backward, and that Sam Whitlaw was at home, Hasken consulted his pocket address book and found Sam’s home number in Manhattan.
Once again Hasken put through his long-distance call, and after a handful of seconds Whitlaw answered it. He did not sound sleepy, but then Hasken remembered that his boss was rarely sleepy. He was accustomed to being awakened at any hour of the morning, and always alert for some sudden-breaking news.
“Hello.”
“Sam. Is that you? This is Hy Hasken in Beijing. It’s seven tomorrow evening where I am. Can you hear me all right?”
“Where?” said Whitlaw, less alert, momentarily befuddled, so that Hasken knew that he had been sleeping.
Hasken raised his voice. “I’m in China. Beijing, China.”
“Oh, yes. With the Pres. How did his speech go?”
“Excellent. He’s good at that, you know.”
“So he impressed them,” said Whidaw. “No news there. What are you calling me about at these prices?”
“The Pres,” said Hasken. “He’s doing it again.”
“Doing what again?”
“Changing his itinerary without telling anyone. He was supposed to leave Beijing for Washington tonight. He’s sending the press plane ahead, and he’s pretending he’s already left for Andrews Air Force Base. Only he hasn’t. He’s making a detour. He’s going to Lampang instead, before proceeding to Washington.”
“To Lainpang? On a schedule he hasn’t announced?”
Hasken confirmed it. “Like he did last time.
Remember when he came to Lampang for the funeral of Noy’s sister? Remember he gave himself an extra day to go sightseeing with Noy and went swimming with her? You remember the super pictures I got?”
“I certainly remember. That was great,” said Whitlaw.
“Only because I stayed over; refused to take the press plane back. Well, I’m doing it again. I’m dogging the president’s footsteps. I’ll have to take a commercial plane back, but I’m sure you’ll agree it’s worth the investment. Maybe it’ll cost a little more, but it could be worth it.”
Whitlaw didn’t speak a moment. Then he spoke. “Why is Underwood going to Lampang out of schedule?”
“I don’t know, Sam. But I’m suspicious.”
“How did you get onto this?” Whitlaw asked.
“I saw Ezra Morrison come into the Great Hall. He had a whispered consultation with the president. Then they both left. I slipped out of the press section and followed them. Actually, I was only hoping for an exclusive interview on the results of the China trip. I figured if I couldn’t see the president alone, I could corner Morrison. The two of them went into a room, apparently to take a telephone call. I got
out of sight and ducked into a phone booth, leaving it partially open—”
“A phone booth in China?”
“The coming of democracy. When Underwood and Morrison came out of the room, they walked up the corridor together, talking. I could hear them. That’s when I heard that the president was diverting to Lampang, and sending the press plane ahead to Washington. I heard the president tell Morrison to accompany the press and to take Blake with him. Afterward, Morrison announced that the president was too busy for a press conference, and that he himself would hold a press conference on the press plane. He promised to answer all the questions about the president’s China trip. The press accepted that as routine. But not me. I knew about Lampang, and I figured there might be a better story there.”
“So you’re letting the press go ahead, but you’re not going to be with them.”
“I want to go to Lampang.”
“With no idea what’s up.”
“No real idea,” said Hasken. “But it has got to have something to do with Noy. Everything that involves the president in this part of the world does. And way back, at the start, you told me to stick to the president, wherever he went, whatever he did.”
“I said that? I guess I did.”
“So now that he’s unexpectedly heading for Lampang, I believe I should be there to greet him.”
“Will he see you?”
“It all depends on why he’s there. If he won’t see me, I can hang in close.”
“If you think you can…”
“You know me, Sam.”
“So why are you calling me?”
“No press plane,” said Hasken. “I have to do this on my own. That means TNTN pays.”
“An ordinary commercial flight shouldn’t be much.”
“There’s no commercial flight until later this evening. I’d get into Visaka after the president arrived. It would be harder to see him.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“A charter flight from China to Lampang. If I left soon, I’d be there to welcome Underwood.”
“Hey,-that could be a helluva lot of money.”
The Guest of Honor Page 21