The Guest of Honor

by Irving Wallace

  Siebert absorbed it all and uttered one word: “Incredible.”

  “It is incredible, kidnapping the president of a country in broad daylight,” agreed Underwood. “Now that you’ve heard it all, I’m hoping you can shed some light on it.”

  Siebert made a gesture of surrender. “I’m as much in the dark as you are.”

  “Think back. Not even a hint from anyone at any time that this could have happened?”

  “I swear to you, Mr. President, I don’t have a clue.”

  Underwood considered what Siebert was saying. “Then, you may have a clue to something else. Who could have done it and with what motive?”

  Siebert spoke instantly. “I think that’s rather obvious.”

  “I think it is, too, but I’d like to hear it from you.”

  “All right. Noy reverses herself and announces to the nation she will run for election against General Nakorn, and immediately—”

  “According to your information, would she win such an election? You were present when she showed her confidence in winning.”

  “Polls have her a shoo-in. So do my best contacts. People like her. Of course, Nakorn has a following, but not equal to Noy’s.”

  Underwood was satisfied. “Very well. Let’s go back to what you started to say. Noy announces for election and immediately… immediately what?”

  “She’s kidnapped. The ransom is a stiff one. She must withdraw from the election.”

  “And who benefits?”

  “General Samak Nakorn. He would have the field to himself. It would be a Ya vote—a Da vote —he’d be the new president. Most people in Lampang, the majority, would be displeased. But those in our own government—yourself excepted—I mean Ramage and Morrison, would be mightily pleased. They could have an ally to massacre the Communists and be true-blue to the United States.”

  Underwood blinked at the last. “You’re not suggesting that Director Ramage or Secretary of State Morrison engineered this kidnapping?”

  “Good God, no. Ramage and Morrison are capable of many things, but not an act like this, especially when they know how you’d feel about it.”

  “So what you’re saying is that the real winner in this, the one person to instigate the kidnapping and demand Noy’s withdrawal from the election, is the Lampang Army chief of staff.”

  “General Nakorn. He’d come out the winner in this.”

  “Are you accusing Nakorn of doing this?”

  “I’m not accusing anyone, Mr. President. I’m merely suggesting who stands to gain by it. Maybe Nakorn didn’t do it. Maybe one of his overzealous aides decided to do him a favor. That’s a possibility. But a greater likelihood is Nakorn himself. He’s a ruthless son of a bitch, capable of any act of violence.”

  “So if I want to get to the bottom of this and save Noy, all roads lead to Nakorn.”

  “You have nowhere else to go. All other roads lead to a dead end. It’s Nakorn or nothing.”

  Underwood weighed the possibility. He did. not like it.

  “You think a meeting with Nakorn provides any hope?”

  “As president of the United States, give him the go-ahead to wipe out the Communists for your sake, and give him the added weapons to do so, and he may be cooperative enough to investigate this kidnapping. But not a certainty. He still wants to be president.”

  “And I want to retain the president who’s been kidnapped.”

  “Difficult.”

  “I guess there’s nowhere else to go but meet with General Nakorn.”

  “You may get lucky,” said Siebert dryly. “Don’t count on it.”

  President Underwood was in Noy’s office in Chamadin Palace, seated behind Noy’s desk, seated rigidly in Noy’s leather swivel chair, awaiting his visitor.

  Earlier, Underwood made his next move. He had telephoned Marsop in Chamadin Palace and spoken to him.

  “I want to see General Nakorn,” Underwood had said. “In Noy’s office in the palace in an hour. Do you think you can arrange that?”

  “I can try, Mr. President.”

  “I think Nakorn will come around. I’ll be waiting for him.”

  “Uh, Mr. President—”

  “Yes?”

  “If Noy should call again to find out what progress is being made, what should I tell her?”

  “Try to tell her I’m here from China and doing my best. Better, for the sake of the others holding her, let her know you are going to comply with the ransom demand. Assure her you will address the nation tomorrow evening and withdraw her name from the election—on one condition. That in no more than a half hour after your address, her captors will release her unharmed on the very corner where she was kidnapped.”

  Marsop had been quiet. “They can promise anything.”

  “Worth trying.”

  “Mr. President, do you still mean for me to give that television address to the nation?”

  “Prepare for it, plan on it. Between us, I’m no closer to finding out who kidnapped her. But I’ll keep trying.”

  “Please.”

  “Then the next step is General Nakorn. Get him for me.”

  “I’ll get him,” Marsop had promised.

  Now President Underwood was seated in Noy’s place, awaiting his visitor.

  More than an hour had passed since Underwood had instigated the meeting, and he was becoming apprehensive.

  That instant the inner phone on the desk buzzed, and Underwood snatched up the receiver.

  “Yes?”

  “Your visitor is here, sir,” Noy’s secretary announced.

  Relieved, Underwood said, “Show him in.”

  He rose just as the side door from the reception room opened, and General of the Army Samak Nakorn entered in full uniform.

  The president had forgotten that, while Nakorn was much shorter than he, Nakorn was much broader. He was a barrel of a man in an immaculate uniform, his chest filled with ribbons, and he was holding his braided cap.

  Nakorn crossed over quickly, grasped Underwood’s outstretched hand and, following Underwood’s gesture, sat down alongside the desk.

  Underwood returned to Noy’s chair, disconcerted that Nakorn revealed no significance in where the president had chosen to sit.

  “Aren’t you surprised to find me here?” Underwood asked.

  “No,” said Nakorn calmly. A smile flicked his face. “We have very good intelligence in Lampang. Even if it were not so good, Air Force One is impossible to overlook.”

  “Aren’t you curious as to why I am here?” Underwood wanted to know.

  “I am most curious,” said Nakorn. “I haven’t the slightest idea.” His gaze wandered around the office. “I half expected President Noy Sang to be with you.”

  “If your intelligence is so good, you must know that she is missing.”

  Nakorn had been phlegmatic, but momentarily he seemed taken aback. “Missing? What do you mean by that?”

  “Kidnapped,” said Underwood evenly. “She’s been abducted.”

  “I can’t believe that. Who would dare—”

  “That is why I wanted to see you. To find out if you can tell me who would dare to do this.”

  “Me?” said Nakorn. “I know nothing about any kidnapping. Why should I?”

  Underwood was stony. “Because you stand the most to gain by it.”

  “In what way?”

  “You’ve announced you are running for election. After that, she announced she was running against you. If she can’t run against you, then you are elected.”

  For the first time Nakorn showed some animation. “Are you implying I had her kidnapped?”

  “I am saying you could profit by it.”

  Nakorn was grim. “Much as I respect your high office, Mr. President, I feel that I deserve an apology. You do me a grave injustice. You insult me.”

  “I will apologize when I am convinced you are not involved. At the moment, I am less than certain. The kidnappers have relayed word that they will hold President Noy unt
il she publicly withdraws from the race against you.”

  “This is news to me. I am looking forward to the election campaign against her. I do not want her to withdraw.”

  Underwood’s irritation had mounted. He came out of the swivel chair. “Then find her,” he said harshly to Nakorn.

  Nakorn remained unmoved. “Do you have any clues to her whereabouts?”

  Underwood considered informing Nakorn how it had all come about, but then he thought better of it. If Nakorn had any involvement, it would be unwise to let him hear what was already known.

  “I have no clues,” said Underwood. “Surely, with your vast military resources, you could find a means of tracing her.”

  Nakorn came to his feet. “In kidnappings there are limited means of searching. One goes to the victim’s enemies, to begin with. In this case, through our computers I can find a list of persons who have threatened her in letters and speeches. I can also interrogate members of the opposition parties who stand the most to gain by her withdrawal. There is only so much I can do until I find a useful lead. But I’ll certainly try.”

  “You might try one more thing,” said Underwood.

  “What would that be?”

  “Interrogate closely your own aides and confederates, those who would like to see you elected above anyone else.”

  “I could not do that. Each and every one is loyal to me—and to their president, Noy.”

  “General Nakorn, I speak to you as commander in chief of the United States, and as an ally of Lampang. Unless I know that you are doing everything in your power to rescue Madame Noy, I am afraid our future relationship will be gravely impaired. Do you understand me?”

  “I understand you. I can only do what is possible. I am not sure rescuing President Noy is at all possible before she withdraws.”

  “You will do what you can,” said Underwood icily. “And I will do the same, you can be sure.”

  He paused. “You know where to reach me if you should suddenly find the impossible, possible. Good day.”

  On the way back to the Oriental Hotel, Matt Underwood felt stymied. He’d seen Siebert with no luck. He’d met with General Nakorn with no give. He wondered to whom he could turn next. He considered returning to Chamadin Palace after a brief rest and questioning Marsop thoroughly. They could draw up a list together—the very list General Nakorn had spoken about—of Noy’s enemies and her opposition. He’d discuss the names and possibly try to see several of them.

  At the Oriental Hotel, once more accompanied by the Secret Service, Underwood took the elevator up to his penthouse suite.

  Going along the corridor toward his suite, he could see Director Frank Lucas posted at the stairwell that led to his door, and someone, back turned, talking to him or questioning him.

  As he neared them, Underwood could make out the second man. He was Hy Hasken, the television correspondent.

  Lucas had gone ahead and unlocked the president’s door and opened it, and as the president started inside, Hasken tried to follow him. Lucas blocked the way.

  “I thought we might have a talk,” Hasken said across the Secret Service director.

  “I don’t think so,” Underwood replied. “I’m too busy to discuss China.”

  “Not about China,” Hasken said.

  “No? Then what about?”

  “Lampang,” said Hasken evenly.

  “What about Lampang?”

  “Something I’ve found out.” Hasken glanced at Lucas and the other Secret Service men. “Do you want me to discuss it out here in the corridor—or would you rather discuss it with me in privacy?”

  Underwood considered the television reporter briefly, with undisguised distaste.

  He directed himself to Lucas. “Let him in for a minute, Frank. I want to find out what’s on his mind.”

  Lucas unbarred Hasken’s entry and let him through the metal detector. Hasken tracked after the president, shutting the door behind them.

  The two stood in the middle of the living room. “What is it?” Underwood asked.

  “This may take a little time,” said Hasken. “May I sit down?”

  “Sit down,” said Underwood brusquely.

  Hasken settled in a corner of the sofa, and Underwood came down edgily in the armchair beside it.

  “I’ll tell you why I wanted to speak to you,” said Hasken.

  “I can’t wait,” said Underwood.

  “You’re not here on state business,” said Has-ken. “I have a good hunch it is something personal.”

  “Is this what you’re taking up my time to tell me?” said Underwood with considerable annoyance.

  “There’s more,” said Hasken.

  “There is? Fill me in on it.”

  Hasken drew in his breath. “What I have to say to you concerns Madame Noy Sang.”

  “Yes?”

  “Madame Noy is unavailable or missing. My bet is on the latter. I say she’s missing.”

  “That’s a wild shot,” said Underwood. “Where’d you pick up that nonsense?”

  Hasken’s gaze was fixed on Underwood. “It’s not nonsense, Mr. President. I believe it’s a fact. I can’t prove it, not yet, but I’m sure it’s a fact. Noy is missing, and my guess is that you’re here to find out what is going on.”

  Underwood met the reporter’s gaze. “I repeat, where’d you pick that one up?”

  “By hanging around Chamadin Palace. By listening. By asking questions and hearing the answers. By checking out Madame Noy’s usual routine for two days. By learning that such a visible person is suddenly not visible. I think you’d be wise to confirm it and let me in on it.”

  Underwood shifted restlessly in his chair. “There’s not a thing to let you in on. You’re taking a wild shot, and it’s wide of the mark.”

  “You won’t help me?”

  “Even if! could, I wouldn’t.” He paused. “Not you.”

  “You’re making a mistake, Mr. President.”

  “I’m not, but if I were, it wouldn’t be my first. You’re really fishing, Hasken, and there’s nothing to catch.”

  “One more chance, Mr. President.”

  “Good-bye, Mr. Hasken,” Underwood said firmly.

  With an elaborate shrug, Hasken came to his feet. He stood over Underwood. “Let me say this, Mr. President. I’m going to find out why you’re here. I’m going to find out why you’re in Lampang when you’re supposed to be on your way to Washington. When I do find out, I won’t have you to thank for it. I’m going out on my own to run down Madame Noy. I’m just going to remind you of one thing, Mr. President. Fm the best investigative reporter in the business. Of the three thousand journalists covering Washington, there’s no one better, no one who can do what I can do. I’m going to learn the truth about Noy with or without you.”

  Hasken’s certainty shook Underwood. He watched the reporter head for the door, and one sentence that Hasken had spoken stuck in his brain. I’m the best investigative reporter in the business.

  Underwood had been trying to play investigative reporter himself; but without success. He did not have that kind of imagination or devious turn of mind He didn’t and he was at his rope’s end. Desperation time.

  He knew he had to hold on to Hasken. It was time to put aside differences, get himself an ally who possessed the armament to give him hope.

  Hasken, hand on the doorknob, was about to depart when Underwood called out. “Mr. Hasken!”

  Hasken’s hand left the doorknob and he turned. “Yes, Mr. President?”

  “Come back here. I wait to talk to you after all.”

  Without another word, Hasken made his. way back to the sofa and gingerly sat on it.

  “I’ll make no bones about our relationship,” the president began. “I’ve never particularly liked you. I’ve always found you too snoopy. But it is this very quality in you that appeals to me now. I’m willing to let bygones be bygones and settle into some sort of working relationship, presuming I can trust you.”

  Hask
en nodded solemnly. “If you have to trust me to go on with me, if that’s what stands between us, I assure you that you can trust me totally.”

  “I take your word,” said Underwood. “What caught my attention and turned me around, made me call you back, was the remark you made that you are the best investigative reporter in the business. You have no doubts about that, do you?”

  “None whatsoever. I have the skill and the patience. If something must be found out, there is every likelihood that I can get to the bottom of it. If not always, then ninety percent of the time. So you can have faith.”

  “I’m going to depend on you for something extremely important.”

  “You can do so.”

  The president nodded. “I’m not an investigative reporter, and you are. I’ll discuss the outline of the problem with you, thoroughly, fully, if I have your pledge once more that you will not use what I tell you in your work. You will be tempted, but I must have your pledge not to make it public until the problem is resolved. Will you promise strict confidentiality?”

  “I promise it,” Hasken said sincerely.

  “I had best pose the problem as a hypothetical case, and learn if you can suggest any way to approach it.”

  “Go ahead, Mr. President.”

  Underwood found it difficult to know how to begin, then at last he began. “There’s a local woman who has a son. She drops the boy off to school. She does not pick him up. She sends her car and driver to do so. Before he can make the pickup, the driver is knocked out, another driver substituted for him, and a similar car used for the pickup. The boy is abducted, held hostage in the city, and his mother is ordered to come alone to a certain street corner to get him. She does so and is kidnapped. She is held for ransom. I would hate to see the ransom paid.”

  Hasken shook his head. “You’re not leveling with me, Mr. President.”

  “How so?”

  “I don’t want a hypothetical case. I want the real case. I want to hear the facts. It’s obvious to me that the mother is Madame Noy Sang and her son is Den Sang.”

  Underwood sighed. “I found it difficult to bring their names into this—even with you.”