Richard Krowl’s voice was low, slightly menacing. “Are you arguing with me, Bernard?”
“I’m just saying to your face what everybody else is saying behind your back. Just having this guy around spooks everybody. Now you’re up to your ass in alligators here, and if you don’t get things together real soon, you’re going to be out of business.”
“That would be rather unfortunate for you, Bernard,” Richard Krowl said dryly. “Then you’d have to find a job.”
“If the Russians find out what’s going on here, they’ll never—”
“Shut up, Bernard!” Krowl shouted. “And get out! I’ll call you if I need you!”
Again, Chant sensed tremendous reluctance and resentment in the burly man standing behind him. Then Bernard grunted angrily, wheeled, and stalked out of the office.
Richard Krowl stared over Chant’s shoulder at his departing brother, his eyes now cold, calculating. Finally, Krowl sighed, then reached beneath his desk and pressed a button. The steel cuffs on Chant’s wrists popped open.
“The battery terminals are to your right,” Krowl said almost absently. “I suggest you don’t press on the arm of that chair too hard when you lean over.”
Chant reached to his right beneath the chair, disconnected the battery terminals. “Are the Russians coming to visit?” he asked casually. “Frankly, that surprises me; they certainly have enough torture doctors of their own, and I wouldn’t think they’d patronize an operation that seems to cater to your kinds of clients. They must think a lot of your skills.”
Krowl said nothing. Feather, as usual, said nothing and did not move. Krowl leaned back in his chair, folded his hands across his stomach and stared absently up at the ceiling.
Food and cold beer were brought. Chant ate and drank in silence, with Feather remaining motionless as a statue and Krowl continuing to stare at the ceiling.
“What’s all the excitement around here?” Chant asked as he finished and set the tray down on the floor beside his wheelchair. “I thought I noticed some new faces on my way over. More students, Krowl?”
Now Krowl looked at Chant, sighed. “Sinclair, tell me about Operation Cooked Goose.”
Chant shrugged. “I did. I got my shoulder burned for my effort.”
“You lied.”
Now Feather shifted her position on the divan, and when Chant glanced in her direction he found the woman looking at him. Her face, now visible under the hood, was badly swollen, and her right eye was almost shut. The left eye was fixed on a spot somewhere around his chest.
“What can I tell you, Krowl?” Chant said quietly as he continued to stare back at Feather. “I thought you were a scientist. Your machines indicated I told the truth. One shake of this woman’s head, and I get burned. It doesn’t make sense that you shouldn’t believe me.”
“It makes sense. Feather senses things no machine can; she sees into the human heart. She always knows.”
“Not this time. I thought we agreed I didn’t have any good reasons for continuing to resist.”
“You chose to resist by different means—and considering the fact that you had my dim-witted brother waving a hot iron in your face, I don’t blame you. The fact that you were able to pull it off with that iron in your face is what I find absolutely astounding. I’ve seen people beat lie detectors, but never for such a prolonged period of time, and never under such stress where a single mistake could have cost an eye, or worse. I wouldn’t have thought it possible.”
“It isn’t possible. I told you the truth. I think your girlfriend here was off her feed.”
“You lied—as you’re doing now. You heard me tell the others how the human nervous system can be compared to a musical instrument that, when played properly, will produce the music you want to hear. You are the most unusual instrument I’ve ever come across. Indeed, you are probably unique. But I will learn to play you, John Sinclair. Whatever it takes, I will hear your music.”
“Are those men in black outside your guest conductors?”
“No. As a matter of fact, they’re mercenaries I’ve been forced to hire as temporary guards.” Krowl paused for a few moments, staring hard into Chant’s face. When he spoke again, his voice had taken on a sharper edge. “I have a problem, Sinclair. I think it may interest you.”
“If you have a problem, Krowl, I know it will interest me. I hope it’s a really big one.”
“It’s bothersome. It seems somebody on this island is a murderer and a thief.”
Chant opened his eyes wide in mock horror and astonishment. “A thief and murderer here? I find that impossible to believe.”
Krowl grunted, then lit a cigar and blew a smoke ring toward the ceiling. “Two guards are missing. Feather’s jaw was broken. Two men were decapitated, and one was drowned in his own shit.” The torture doctor’s tone had become almost casual, conversational.
“Mmm,” Chant said with a grimace. “Sounds gruesome. Any suspects?”
“Everybody on this island except the mercenaries, Feather, and myself.”
Chant nodded toward the empty earthenware jars. “I see your pearls are missing. Maybe the two guards did it.”
Krowl shook his head. “They were fed to the sharks. Pieces of clothing were found floating in the lagoon. In any case, nobody can get on or off this island, except by helicopter—and nobody’s going anywhere until I find the person responsible. That’s why the problem is only bothersome, not critical.”
“I’m really sorry to hear that. It sounds like Feather got off easily.”
“Yes,” Krowl said, squinting at Chant through a cloud of aromatic, blue smoke. “Curious, isn’t it? It’s almost as if this butcher were a man with some sense of honor who might have had some qualms about killing a woman.”
Chant looked at Feather, smiled thinly. “Obviously, he’d never had any dealings with her.” Shadows moved in the woman’s good eye, and Chant looked back to Krowl; as always, the mute woman made him distinctly uneasy. “Maybe it’s one of your guests.”
“Yes, that could very well be. Something like this happened once before, although there weren’t any killings involved. An agent for Amnesty, Inc., an investigator, got very brave and managed to get on this island posing as … someone else. He stole some records without my even being aware of it, and managed to leave with the group he’d come with. Fortunately, the theft was discovered. I did some quick checking, and my people were able to capture him in Peru before any damage had been done. I decided an example had to be made to discourage future interruptions of my work, so he was brought back here for special attention. His name was Harry Gray—the man who was in Vietnam the same time you were. I asked you about him. Do you still claim you didn’t know him?”
“That’s what I said.”
Krowl looked at Feather, who gave a slight shrug of her shoulders.
“Feather isn’t certain you’re telling the truth,” Krowl continued, turning back to Chant, raising his eyebrows slightly.
“If I were you, I’d trade her in on a new model. Why the hell would I lie about something like that?”
“An excellent question. But I haven’t come to the most interesting part—actually, it’s the reason I’m telling you all this.”
“Oh, good. You’ve had more bad news?”
“I’ll leave that for you to decide. Naturally, I suspected that I’d been infiltrated again, and that one of my guests was an agent for somebody.”
“Why an agent? Maybe he’s just a garden-variety madman.”
“No. Again, records were taken.”
Chant laughed. “Along with the pearls? He was really a busy beaver, wasn’t he?”
“Oh, he certainly was. Naturally, my guests also suspected it, was one of them—at first.”
“At first?”
“Yes. But after their initial shock and panic wore off and they started talking with each other, they came up with another suspect. In fact, they’re in unanimous agreement on who’s responsible.”
“Wh
o?”
“You.”
“I love it. You come up with some pretty good material yourself.”
“It’s not my material; it’s theirs.”
“Is this some kind of new interrogation technique, Krowl? If it is, I have to tell you that I prefer it to your other methods.”
“Oh, they’re quite serious. Indeed, I find their awe of you most intriguing. They talk about the strength, stealth, and cunning of the ninja. In fact, the thought of you wandering around at night lopping off heads and drowning strong men in their own shit so unhinged one of my guests—Chester Norham—that he demanded he be taken off the island immediately. When I told him that was impossible, he went back to his room and hanged himself with a bed-sheet.”
“Really? He never did have good nerves. Have you informed his mother?”
“Of course, it couldn’t have been you,” Krowl said around his cigar, still squinting through the smoke. His voice was flat. “No man, ninja or not, could walk away from shackles and through a locked door.”
“Hey, I’d just as soon you didn’t discourage their fantasies. Maybe a few more will hang themselves.”
“Even assuming it was possible that you’d done it, it would seem logical for you to kill everyone.”
“Frankly, I’m a bit disappointed that didn’t seem logical to the person who did do the killings.”
“You’re disappointed, I’m curious,” Krowl said in the same flat tone. “If it had been you, I’d have been the first victim on your list.”
“I won’t deny that.”
“And, obviously, once you were free, with me in your power, it would have been insane for you to go back to your cell and return yourself to my power.”
“That’s for damn sure.”
Krowl removed his cigar from his mouth, turned, and looked at Feather. The woman, who had been staring at Chant throughout the conversation, continued to stare at him, and she did not move.
“Tell me, Sinclair,” the torture doctor said, abruptly changing the subject as he stood and stretched, “what would happen if you and Bernard fought?”
“With or without my wheelchair?”
“Would you be able to kill him, even after all I’ve put you through? If even a fraction of what I’ve heard about you in the last few days is true, it seems you actually could.”
“Why don’t we find out?”
“Perhaps we will.”
“It sounds to me like you’re trying to find a way to solve another of your problems, namely the aforementioned dim-witted brother.”
“It’s Bernard who keeps insisting he wants to beat the truth out of you.”
“And it’s you who may be looking to make him an object lesson to your pals. Bernard has a big mouth, and he has a natural kinship with those others. They like their brutality straight up, with none of the bullshit you’re so fond of. The fact of the matter is that Bernard has been watching too many old Westerns; he thinks that if he knocks me off, he’ll inherit what he perceives to be my reputation as top gunslinger.”
“He’s a killer, Sinclair.”
“Sure he is—of people who weren’t trying to kill him. Your brother is a coward, Krowl, and probably mildly retarded. He’s big and brutal, but he’s really a child who’s wildly jealous of both of us, and is looking for a little attention. I’m telling you this up front, because I don’t want to end up getting any extra-special attention because I’ve killed your brother in a game you set up. I’ve got enough grief trying to convince you and your human lie detector here that I’ve been telling the truth.”
Krowl threw back his head and laughed. “You know, Sinclair,” he said, still chuckling, “you really are a most amazing man. Most men would have been finished an hour or two after their arrival here. Here you are, days later, sitting here and warning of the consequences of possible acts. What’s more, I enjoy our conversations. In fact, sometimes I enjoy them so much that I forget why it is you’re here in the first place.”
“Not to worry. I assume you taped everything I said, so you can play it back at your leisure. In the meantime, did you hear the one about—?”
“The tape is bullshit,” Krowl said, suddenly very serious, his eyes glinting dangerously. “But you’ll tell me the truth, eventually. That is, if Bernard doesn’t kill you.”
“Ah. You’re still thinking that over, I see.”
“Mmmm.” Krowl puffed on his cigar, and his eyes once again became hooded. “In the meantime, I have this other aggravation to attend to. What would you do in my place, Sinclair? What do I do about this stray murderer and thief?”
“Why ask me?”
“I’m interested in your views.”
“Why should I do your work for you?”
Krowl smiled thinly. “Because I have to assume that indulging me with this little chat beats hanging around in your cell, so to speak.”
“What about Bernard? Maybe he went over the edge.”
“And stole his own pearls?”
“The guards?”
“Most unlikely, but a possibility—for whatever reason. But I don’t think so.”
“Then you’re left with your guests. Put them all under constant guard, search everything.”
“Done.”
“Get on the radio and have their respective governments do a thorough background check on every one of them. Make sure physical descriptions of the men they sent match up with the people you’ve got here.”
“Done. Every description matches up, and each man is vouched for—in the strongest possible terms.”
Chant shrugged. “Then one of them is either a maniac, or a deep-cover agent carrying out a careful plan which only seems crazy to us. Or maybe one of them had a grudge nobody knows about, and he stole the pearls and records to make it look like someone else.”
“But what if my nervous guests are right, and it’s you who’s the murderer and thief?”
“There’s a simple solution to that. Put me in chains inside a locked cell. That should make them feel better.”
“What is this ninja business, Sinclair? Precisely what is a ninja?”
“Ask your guests.”
“They describe you.”
“How do they describe me?”
“As a man with almost supernatural powers.”
“Do you believe in men with supernatural powers?”
“No. Not supernatural. But you are a man with demonstrably remarkable talents—and I’ve only observed you as a prisoner. To tell you the truth, the question of what you can and cannot do with your body and mind has come to intrigue me more than any other question we’re supposed to be dealing with. I’ve come to look upon you as a great opportunity for learning that’s literally been dumped in my lap.”
“I hate to think that I’m distracting you from your work, Doctor. If it’s all the same to you, I’d just as soon be ignored.”
“But secrets of the body and mind—secrets that I believe you possess—are my business.”
“Oh, yeah. I keep forgetting. For some reason, I keep thinking of you as a chickenshit torturer with delusions of grandeur.”
Krowl puffed on his cigar, studying Chant, then abruptly dropped it on the floor of his office and ground it out with the toe of his shoe. “I’m going to be frank with you, Sinclair,” the other man said at last, sitting back down behind his desk.
“Oh, please do.”
“I’ll find out who’s responsible for this other business; it’s only a matter of time. When I do find him, I’ll do the same thing to him that I did to Harry Gray. However, it presents a problem because it couldn’t have happened at a worse time.”
“Why not?”
The torture doctor shook his head. “I’m not prepared to tell you that. But I am prepared to offer you a deal.”
Chant grunted. “What’s the deal?”
“Save me the time that your problem presents. Tell me what the Americans want to know; tell me the truth about any documents you may have, and give me a means of ver
ifying what you tell me.”
“I did tell you the truth.”
“Don’t give me that,” Krowl said with an impatient wave of his hand. “Here’s my proposition: Tell me what I want to know, and I won’t kill you.”
“I liked your other material better—the business about my walking away from my chains to wreak bloody vengeance and steal pearls, then going back again.”
Krowl hissed with annoyance. “Of course, I could lie to you. But what would be the point? We’ve both agreed that, sooner or later, I’d get what I want from you.”
“You have what you want; you just won’t accept it.”
“Sinclair, this is an honest offer.”
“You can’t release me,” Chant said carefully. “If you did, the CIA would kill you”
“I didn’t say I’d let you go free; I said I wouldn’t kill you”
“Interesting proposition. But, as lovely as this island is, I suspect I might find it boring after a time.”
“Are you admitting that you lied before?”
“You want to chat; I’m chatting. Like you said, I prefer it to hanging around on the wall of my cell.”
“We won’t be on this island.” Now it was Richard Krowl’s tone that was guarded.”
“Where?”
“Russia.”
Chant said nothing. He glanced at Feather, who was still staring, her unswollen eye slightly out of focus, at his chest.
“That caught you by surprise, didn’t it?” Krowl said, more than a hint of satisfaction in his voice. “Would I make up such a thing? Maybe that will convince you that my offer is genuine.”
“Why the hell do you want to go to Russia, Krowl? The food’s terrible.”
Another thin smile, a fresh cigar. “The Russians, in the past, haven’t taken my work too seriously. They prefer their own rather crude methods—which work quite well for them under normal circumstances. But they’re not fools, and they’re certainly not a stupid people. They’d heard of my work, and from time to time they would send me subjects. They were impressed with my work. Now I’ve been given an unparalleled opportunity. If I pass one last … test … I’ll be given unlimited access to the best facilities, as well as unlimited funds, in Russia to continue my research. That’s always been the most important thing to me.”
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