Death Island

by Nick Carter

  Owen waved him over. "You look a little less frazzled than before," he said pleasantly.

  Carter sat down, and Owen introduced him to the thin man who, Carter noticed, wore a.357 magnum revolver strapped to his hip.

  "Richard Fenster, chief of station security."

  Carter nodded, but the man made no move to shake hands. Carter decided he didn't like him. He seemed shifty; his eyes refused to remain on one object for more than an instant.

  An Oriental came from behind the bar and laid out several plates of sliced corned beef, thickly sliced rye bread, and all the trimmings, plus a round of cold beers.

  "How long have you been out here, Mr. Fenster?" Carter asked, making himself a sandwich.

  "Too long. And I don't mind telling you that I resent interference."

  "What interference is that?" Carter asked, looking up.

  "I've been doing my job out here. I could use more men, not some hot shot investigator from Washington."

  "Yes?" Carter said, smiling. He was certain now that he did not like this man.

  "We're being counterproductive here…"Owen started, but Duvall leaned forward.

  "I just want to know how and when you're going to do something about what is happening here." He looked toward the door. "For Christ's sake, we're sitting ducks out here."

  "Who attacked the base this time around?" Carter asked the station manager.

  "Natives from Natu Faui, we're assuming."

  "You're assuming that they were natives, or about their origin?" Carter asked.

  "They were natives, all right. But we're assuming they came from Natu Faui."

  "That's the island our Navy has cleaned out a few times already?"

  Fenster smiled faintly. "Invasions, they called them, although that would hardly have been my choice of words. More like shore missions, and not very extensive at that. A couple of the patrols were sent inland, and interpreters spoke with the native government."

  "And?" Carter prompted after a moment or two of silence.

  Fenster shrugged. "Our people were assured each time that the attacks, if they had been mounted from Natu Faui, were the work of a few youngsters who had gotten drunk on whiskey."

  "I see," Carter said. "Where do they get their whiskey?"

  Fenster curled his lip. "The French… we believe."

  "Our problems are not isolated to native attacks," Owen interjected.

  Carter turned to him.

  "There have been plenty of other incidents in the past. Including the attack on Handley in town by his section aide."

  "A Chinese man?"

  "Yun Lo." Duvall spat out the name.

  "Is the man in custody?"

  Owen shook his head. "We can't find him. The French have their people out looking for him, of course, since it happened in town. But neither their people nor Fenster's have come up with a clue."

  "Nor will we ever," the security chief said. "Yun Lo has disappeared into the bush like the others. He's living back up there in the hills with his wife and mother and father and grandparents and probably a dozen kids and as many mistresses. They've got it made here. They own these islands."

  " 'Others'?" Carter asked.

  Owen sighed deeply. "We have had a problem with our help out here. They steal things, then disappear. But until the attack on Handley, we felt they were no serious threat to us."

  "You don't believe they have anything to do with your ongoing problem?"

  "Not with the attacks on the base," Owen said. "They may be a pain in the ass, but they aren't… weren't dangerous."

  "Where are they recruited?"

  "Here on the island. There's a fairly extensive population of Orientals."

  "I thought the Japanese…" Carter started, but Owen cut him off.

  "This was a POW camp during the war. A lot of the prisoners from Manchuria and then later from Hong Kong were brought down here. Men, women, children."

  "The Japanese were driven out and the Chinese remained."

  "Exactly."

  "If you're having so much trouble with them why don't you hire your subcontract people from the States?"

  "Too expensive."

  "I see."

  Carter ate his excellent lunch as Owen briefly went over the history of the satellite receiving station's troubles. He added nothing new to what Carter had already learned from AXE records. But sitting there now at the station, he felt a sense of continuity with the story that he had not picked up back in Washington. He got the sense that the troubles here over the years had been caused by one group for a specific purpose. He also got the feeling that their troubles had picked up in frequency and intensity during the past year or so. He voiced that opinion to Owen.

  "You're damned right it's been getting worse.

  Much worse," the station manager said.

  "Why?" Carter asked.

  Owen was nonplussed for just a moment. He looked to Fenster. Then back. "It beats the hell out of me, Carter. I don't know."

  "Has anything different been happening with operations over the past year or two? Any new intelligence seam? New equipment?"

  Owen suddenly seemed uncomfortable. "Yes to all counts, but it's not something I 'd care to discuss here in the open."

  "I'm finished with my lunch," Carter said, getting up.

  "We can go to my office, then."

  The four men left the club and went back across the street and into the administration building. Owen's office was near the back of the building, large, carpeted, and air conditioned. A large window looked out over the fenced area that contained the shortwave and some of the microwave antennae for communications with various ships and planes throughout the Pacific and Far East.

  At the door Duvall excused himself, saying he had to return to work. "I hope you will finally put a stop to this, Mr. Carter," he said. Then he left.

  "Handley is having a hard time of it here, I'm afraid," Owen said as they entered his office and took seats.

  "Because of the attack?"

  "That too, but he's not fit in since the day he arrived. He counts the days until his contract is up."

  "You've offered him the option of quitting?"

  Owen nodded. "He says he needs the money and the reference."

  Carter turned suddenly to Fenster. "How long have you been here?"

  "Entirely too long," the man shot back darkly.

  Carter waited.

  "Thirty-two months," the man finally said. "I renewed my contract for an additional two years."

  Carter managed a faint smile as he turned back to Owen. "I was asking about your operations over the past year or two."

  "Yes," Owen said. "About two and a half years ago, as you may or may not know, we put up a new stationary-orbit satellite over the China Sea to keep watch on China as well as Vietnam, Cambodia, and Laos. The entire region. At the same time that system was being put into operation, we were installing new receiving equipment and new photographic analysis gear. State of the art."

  "Have we picked up anything from it?"

  Owen nodded. "The quality of our intelligence report has risen significantly."

  Carter's eyes narrowed. "Do you have intelligence evaluators and analysts out here?"

  "No," Owen said. "But from the raw data that we relay back to D.C., it's been very easy to see what the Spy-in-the-Sky system has been doing for us."

  Carter glanced toward the window. The day looked hot. "Is there a connection between our successes with Chinese intelligence and the fact that your subcontractors here are all ethnic Chinese?"

  Fenster broke in at that. "That was the first thing everyone thought, Mr. Carter. And for my time here I've looked into every rumor, chased down every lead, and tried to figure every angle."

  "Nothing?"

  "Not a thing."

  Carter got up and went to the window. "How far is the town from here?"

  "Fifteen miles."

  "How big is it?"

  "Hiva Faui? Three thousand that we know of. But
outside the town there may be three times that many Chinese."

  "How about the other islands… Natu Faui, Akau Faui, Tamau Faui?"

  "A total estimated population for the entire island group, not including the personnel of this station, is around fourteen thousand people… whites, Chinese, and other Oriental extractions, and of course the Polys."

  Carter looked puzzled.

  "Polynesians," Owen explained.

  "I'd like to see it all."

  "I don't understand," Fenster said.

  "The town, the islands. I'd like to have the services of a helicopter and pilot, and I'd like to begin by looking over all the islands in the group."

  "Of course," Owen said. "Dick can take care of that for you."

  Fenster smiled and got to his feet. "First thing in the morning…"

  "No," Carter said. "Now. This afternoon."

  Fenster looked at Owen. "It'll be dark in a few hours."

  "Then we'd better hurry," Carter said.

  For a moment no one said a thing, but then Owen finally nodded. "Have Bob Tieggs show him around."

  "I was planning on taking you into town myself, in the morning," Fenster said pointedly.

  "I'd just as soon do this independently, Fenster. Nothing against you, of course, but I'd like to form my own views."

  Fenster scowled and was about to say something, but Owen did not give him a chance.

  "Sounds like a good idea to me. Fresh perspective and all that. Tell Bob that Mr. Carter will meet him out on the pad in fifteen minutes."

  Fenster looked at them both, then stormed out of the office. When he was gone Owen shook his head.

  "You don't particularly care for our chief of security."

  "No," Carter said. He went over to the desk, picked up Owen's telephone, and unscrewed the mouthpiece cap.

  "What the hell…" Owen said.

  Carter soon had the instrument apart, and just behind the microphone was a tiny pickup and transmitting device.

  "Good God." Owen whispered.

  Carter pulled the unit out of the phone and put the instrument back together. He tossed the pickup across to the station manager. "Send that back to Washington. Have it looked at. Probably Chinese."

  Owen looked from the transmitter to the telephone. "How long?"

  Carter shrugged. "From the beginning, possibly. Or at least for the past two years."

  "Whatever was discussed in this office got to…"

  "Apparently. Whoever they are." Carter looked around the office. There were several file cabinets, two of them locked with heavy steel bars down the front of the drawers. "Who has access to your office?"

  Owen started to say something but then changed his mind. "Everyone," he said after a moment.

  "Change the locks on your safes, and at least once a day check your telephone. I'd also suggest you do the same in every office where sensitive material might be stored or discussed."

  "It's a little late for that," Owen said glumly.

  "They've got several slices of the pie, but that's no reason to give them the entire pantry."

  While he had been talking, Carter had worked his way slowly over to the door. He jerked it open. No one was out there.

  He turned back. "Bob Tieggs. How sure of him are you?"

  Owen didn't seem to understand the question.

  "Do you trust Duvall or Fenster? Completely?"

  Owen smiled wanly. "Not really."

  "How does Tieggs compare?"

  "I get you. Bob Tieggs is a good, no-nonsense man."

  "That's all I wanted to know. I'll see you later," Carter said. He left Owen's office, went down the hall, and stepped outside. A technician directed him across the compound back to the airfield where he was met a few minutes later in front of a hangar by a well-built young man with sand-colored hair and wide, deep blue eyes. There were laugh lines around his eyes.

  "Bob Tieggs?" Carter asked.

  "That's right," Tieggs said without warmth. "Fenster said you needed a pilot. I'll just get the chopper ready." He turned and went inside the hangar.

  Carter followed him inside.

  "Catch the doors, will you?" the pilot asked.

  Carter found the switch for the doors and punched it. As they began to rumble open he went back to where Tieggs was readying a small Bell helicopter. The NASA symbol was painted on its fuselage. Their work here was under cover as a satellite tracking and receiving station for the space agency.

  Tieggs had hooked a powered handcart to the front hitch on the helicopter, and he pulled the machine across the hangar and out into the hot afternoon sun.

  "Where do you want to go?" the young man asked.

  "I want to tour the islands."

  Tieggs looked at his watch. "We'll have to hustle to finish by dark."

  "I don't want to finish by dark."

  Tieggs looked sharply at him. "There's nothing to see out there once the sun goes down. This place, the town, and perhaps a few native fires on some of the other islands is about all."

  "We'll see," Carter said.

  Within ten minutes Tieggs had warmed up the chopper, and they were rising away from the tracking station's air field and turning out toward the sea.

  "Where to first?" Tieggs asked.

  "Natu Faui," Carter said without hesitation.

  Tieggs swung around toward the south, back over the island, and headed directly toward a group of islands several miles in the distance. Farther to the south, on the opposite end of their own island at the foot of a series of steep hills, the town of Hiva Faui gradually came into view. From here it looked like little more than a wide street that led up to a collection of white buildings scattered in and among the thick jungle growth. A thin plume of smoke rose from just beyond the town.

  Carter pointed it out. "What's that?"

  "Electrical generating plant. They burn everything from oil and coal to copra and wood."

  They made it the remainder of the way across to Natu Faui in a few minutes, and Carter directed the pilot not to overfly the island, but to circle it at a distance of a quarter mile.

  It was a very large island, even larger than Hiva Faui, but the western end of the island was dominated by a large volcano.

  Once they had gotten around to that end of the island, they climbed so that they could see down into the smoking crater. It seemed to Carter as if it were still an active volcano.

  "It is," Tieggs said. "But it hasn't blown its top for at least twenty-five years."

  "Is it due?"

  "The natives think so. Lots of superstition here."

  "But natives live on this island?"

  "At the eastern end," Tieggs said. "Not here. This end is very bad medicine."

  They dropped down again and circled to the southwest side, and Carter had Tieggs set down on the wide beach. He got out of the chopper and motioned for the young man to shut it off.

  "What's the idea?" Tieggs asked, climbing down.

  "We're staying here until after dark, then we're going to fly over in a grid pattern."

  "Listen, I don't know what you and Fenster have got cooked up, but as far as I'm concerned…"

  "Fenster is an idiot who is no friend of mine. It's why I didn't take him along."

  Tieggs looked at Carter for a moment. "No shit?"

  Carter grinned. "You owe me an apology, Bob."

  "I guess I do," Tieggs said, laughing.

  Three

  The sun went down in the west, and it was almost instantly dark. Unlike northern latitudes where there were long twilights, in the tropics there generally was only daylight or darkness with very little in between. The night insects were very loud, competing with the sounds of the surf crashing against the barrier reef a few hundred yards offshore and another, lower pitched, more ominous rumble.

  "Just what is it you have in mind to do up here, Mr. Carter?" Tieggs asked.

  Carter had trudged up the gently sloping beach to the edge of the jungle. Tieggs had followed him.

&nbs
p; "Quiet a minute," Carter whispered, straining to listen, to define the low-pitched rumbling.

  Tieggs looked at him quizzically, then glanced back toward the helicopter.

  "What is that?" Carter asked.

  "Sir?" Tieggs asked, looking back.

  "The rumbling. You can barely hear it."

  Tieggs listened. "The volcano, I'd suspect," he said.

  The volcano. Carter thought. Yes, but there was more there as well. Something steady, rhythmic, man-made. Something was running — some machinery was operating somewhere at this end of the island — and the ever present rumbling of the active volcano was meant to mask the noise.

  He looked back toward the southwest. The line between where the sea ended and the darkening sky began was nearly indistinct now. There was little to see other than an amorphous blackness.

  "Let's go," Carter said to the young pilot, who looked at him for several long moments.

  "Over the island? In a grid pattern?"

  Carter nodded.

  "What are we looking for, may I ask?"

  "You may not, but if you see anything, let me know," Carter said, smiling.

  They went back to the helicopter, Tieggs grumbling, and climbed in and strapped down.

  Tieggs switched on the motor, and as the rotors began to slowly gather speed, he flipped on the chopper's running lights. Carter reached out and shut them off.

  "No lights."

  Tieggs opened his mouth but quickly had second thoughts about what he wanted to say, and stopped himself. He nodded, increased the power, cranked the pitch control so that the blades bit deeper into the night air, and they rose slowly into the star-studded sky.

  Carter had to lean a little closer to Tieggs so that the pilot could hear him. "Bring her around to the western end of the island, and then give me a grid pattern, a few hundred yards on a leg, over the island past the volcano."

  Tieggs nodded, but still said nothing.

  They followed the beach to the western end of the island until it began curving north, then they climbed so that they were skirting the western slopes of the volcano. Carter watched intently as the dark jungle flashed by beneath them.