He began to shiver. The light glared in his eyes. He began to imagine all kinds of shapes between the brightness. Faces loomed up, eyes shifted, floated about, watched him. The silence went on. Sooner or later, he knew, they would come back with the needle and drug him. He hated the thought. He could blow too many items of top security for K Section. He touched his broken tooth with his tongue. If it had been the next molar, he might have died in ten seconds. That was where the K Section dentist had installed the poison pill. He hated the thought of the pill. Hunger, pain, filth, and cold were better than eternity.
“Mr. Sam?”
He thought the whisper was in his imagination. He kept working at the leather thongs that held his wrists. Perhaps if he could hump over to the desk and abrade them on a convenient edge of metal . . .
“Mr. Sam?”
The glaring light moved, danced, creaked a little at the end of its chain. He saw a lovely, glowing, peaches-and-cream face lower toward him. The almond eyes smiled with complete compassion.
“Can you hear me?” she asked.
“Lotus?”
“It is I.”
“Flower of a Chinese Garden, I love you."
She smiled sadly. “I wish I could help you.”
“Did Ta-Po send you?”
“Naturally. I was happy he thought of it.”
“Are you supposed to soften me up?”
She giggled. “Perhaps the opposite.”
“Yes, you’re very desirable.”
“I love you, Mr. Sam.”
“That’s convenient.”
“From the moment I first saw you, I loved you.”
“I’m cold,” he said.
“I’ll warm you.” ‘
“And whisper questions in my ear?”
“You really should tell him where that awful cold stick of a Tanya is. Really, you should. Why sullen?”
“Why not?”
“I do not understand you, Mr. Sam.”
“Once I speak, he’ll kill me, right?”
“I think not.”
“Then he’ll smuggle me secretly to Peking for a long and leisurely agony in L-5’s dungeons. You work for L-5?”
“I am only Madame Hung’s assistant.
“I’ll bet.”
“I am not Ta-Po’s concubine. That’s old-fashioned and bourgeois and stupid. In socialist societies, women have equal freedom to work, study, and love.”
“You’re a dear,” Durell said.
“Let me make you warm.”
She slid to the floor beside him. Her robe was very thin. She was shivering, too. She smelled of flower petals and lemon. Her breath was delicately spiced with an elusive fragrance. Her soft underlip crushed itself against his mouth. Her body was deliciously curved and rounded. He felt the heat of her through his borrowed slacks and decided she either enjoyed her work thoroughly or was sincere.
“Help me get away,” he whispered.
“I will."
“Now.”
“It is not the right time. I cannot. Later, tonight. Near dawn.”
“Lotus, you’re a bit too much.”
She giggled. “You like me, a little?”
“Obviously, more than a little.”
She giggled again. “Always, I dream of a man like you. I hear such tales of American men. You are brave. You are like a tiger. I know your dossier complete, from memory. And I hate Ta-Po, oh, so much! And I’m afraid of her.”
“Madame Hung?”
“She is a monster. Oh, I am afraid of what she will do to you when she loses patience! . . . Do you like that?”
“Very much.”
“Have you had many lovely women?”
“None like you, Lotus. None like this.”
She laughed. “You feel helpless, because your hands are tied?”
“I’m missing so much,” he said. “Why not take oil the straps?”
“Tell me where to find Tanya.”
“To hell with Tanya. That cold stick can take care of herself.”
“But I must have something to tell Ta-Po. Otherwise, he will be very angry with me.”
“All this was his idea?”
“It amuses him to think so.”
“You suggested it?”
“I am too modest to say.”
“I like your modesty. Keep it that way.”
Her body trembled above him. She put her face to his and he was amazed to feel the warm slide of tears on her young cheeks. Then she pushed herself up and reached with one hand for something she had placed on the floor nearby, and he saw the glitter of a knife. It looked very sharp. A clutch of cold fear grabbed at his groin.
“You know what Madame Hung suggested I do?”
“Don’t tell me what that bitch thinks of doing.”
“She said when I have you like this, I should unman you. Ssst! One quick slice with this blade—”
“Lotus—”
“It frightens you?”
“Yes.”
“Then tell me about Tanya.”
“She’s on the moon,” he said quickly.
Lotus looked blank. Her thick, scented hair made a screen beside her face, brushing his brow. “The moon?”
“She went back.”
“Oh, that’s not so.”
“It is. That’s why she can’t be found.” Durell spoke with quiet care. “Now, put away that knife. You’ve lost your chance. Fear does that to men.”
“I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have done it, anyway.”
She rolled aside and sat up. Her robe was gathered about her waist, She looked at him thoughtfully, then stood and shook the robe down demurely, not smiling. Without a word, she left the stone room. The door bolts shot home with solid thuds.
He did not have long to wait. It was Madame Hung’s turn. He did not even hear her come in, until he caught the faint hiss of her pearl-embroidered slippers on the hard floor. Then there came a sudden gasp, and the quick stumble of footsteps, and Lotus was thrown down beside him. She lay there with her glossy hair loose and tangled. There was blood on her right hand, and one finger looked broken. She breathed in and out with her pain and would not look at him. Durell lifted his head and tried to sit up, but the leather thongs made it difficult.
“Such a fool,” Madame Hung whispered.
Durell said nothing. He was afraid, again. She was a woman who could inspire fear in anyone.
“Lotus is a romantic,” Madame Hung said. “I always suspected it. Her training has been futile. But until now, she was useful, although one cannot always predict human behavior. One day, it will be perfected. The stupidity of the human race will make it possible. The masses will be controlled and conditioned into docility. For their own good, of course. For the greater glory of the communist state.”
“Cheers,” said Durell.
“Your morale remains high?”
“Not really.”
“Lotus really should have mutilated you.”
He said nothing. His fear deepened. It was a primitive, atavistic emotion that he couldn’t help.
“Now tell me where to find my beloved daughter.”
“Tanya?”
“Tanya is my daughter. I want her back.”
“She returned to the moon.”
The woman seemed to dissolve into a writhing fury. Durell didn’t even see what she hit him with. There was metal in it, a whip with a score of biting, slashing, agonizing tips. His shirt was torn to ribbons in seconds. His chest, belly and groin became one vast, incredible pain. Through the whistle and thump, he heard Madame Hung’s breath hiss in and out with the effort. Her face came and went, shadowed by the lamp. He had never believed such malignancy could exist in human features.
She paused at last, and gasped, “Well?”
“It would be easy for you to join her,” he whispered.
“How? Tell me, quickly!”
“Just get on your broom and take off for the sky.”
More pain. He blacked out, mercifully, for a time. He a
woke, shuddering. His body was a mass of agony. Even if he were free of the straps, he didn’t think he could move. He knew he was going to die if it kept up. He cursed Madame Hung feebly. He didn’t even have much strength for that.
She was still there. But Lotus had moved. He wondered if Lotus still had the knife.
“American spy, imperialist agent, I will ask only once more. Do not tell me that my poor, deluded daughter has gone back to the moon. I am in no mood for your Western humor. I am never amused. You made stupid Lotus believe it, and she paid for her foolishness. I am not stupid. I am not weak. Do you understand?”
“I’m afraid so,” he said quietly.
“Then tell me where Tanya is. For the last time.”
“I don’t know,” he sighed.
“So.”
There was a finality about the word. He tried to see beyond the glare of light in his eyes. She was a gaunt shadow, a shadow of death, impossible to avoid, inexorable. She would enjoy killing him. She might do it slowly, but he hoped, dimly, through his pain, that it might come fast. . . .
The shadows blurred and flashed, and there came a clang of tin from the lampshade, a wild scintillation of light and shadow, flashes of impossible color. There was a scream. There was a sudden gush of vituperation and Chinese oaths. It came from Madame Hung, but rage and fear pitched her voice beyond her normal sibilant range, The scuffling went on. Durell tried to wriggle aside. Someone stepped on his belly. He rolled again, found himself face down, hands strapped across his kidneys, legs and thighs rigid with more straps. He smelled concrete dust in his nostrils. He smelled death. The light-shade clanged again. Dazzling blindness came, then swooping angles of black.
The lamp rocked on its wire tether.
Everything was silent.
His back crawled. He heard footsteps.
“M-Mr. Sam?”
“Lotus?”
“Are you all right?”
“No.”
“Can you walk?”
”I’ll try.”
“We will escape together. I told you, she is a monster.”
“Did you kill her?”
“No. She is only unconscious.”
“I wish you’d killed her. Cut me loose.”
“Will you help me later, Mr. Sam?”
“Anything you say. Hurry.”
The leather was slashed through. She was nervous, and nicked his wrists with the point of the knife. It didn’t matter. His arms came loose, but he couldn’t move them. Then his legs. They were a little better. Lotus rolled him over. She was weeping. Her eyes were dark pools of terror.
“Oh, what is the matter with you, Mr. Sam?”
“I’ve had too much exercise.”
He made a great effort, and found he could move his arms, after all, although his shoulders cracked and creaked. He sat up, and wished he hadn’t. His stomach didn’t want to bend any more. Lotus put her arms around him. She had changed her clothes, but they were a bit the worse for wear from having been thrown to the floor beside him. The blood had clotted on her hand. Her little finger still looked broken. He managed to take her injured hand and kissed it.
“Thank you, Lotus.”
“Oh, hurry, please!”
“As fast as I can.”
He stood up. After that, it came easier.
Chapter Eleven
HANNIGAN said, “For God’s sake!”
He pursed his lips, made clucking sounds, brushed his thick Iranian-type moustache. His homely face puckered with astonishment, His green eyes reflected amazement. Durell thought he looked beautiful.
“Why did you do it, Cajun?”
“I wanted to learn something. They think Tanya really was on the moon.”
“But of course she was!”
“And they want her very, very badly.”
“Who doesn’t?”
“The Russians,” Durell said.
“But they’re raising hell—”
“Quietly. Diplomatically. Politely. Why aren’t they banging shoes on their desks at the U.N.?”
“Things are different in Moscow now.”
“I wonder. Not that different.”
“So you went through it just to learn this?”
“Every ickle makes a mickle," Durell said.
“You’re delirious, man,” said Hannigan.
He was in his room at the Royal Teheran. It occurred to him that he’d only been in it long enough to drop his bag when he first arrived from Istanbul. How long ago had that been? He wasn’t sure anymore.
Hannigan had gotten a doctor from the embassy. The doctor was serious and discreet and told Durell he had to go to a hospital for at least two weeks. Durell asked him to tape up his ribs and prod his stomach.
“Your spleen may be ruptured,” the doctor said.
“I’ll vent it on her,” said Durell.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Madame Hung. I’m going to kill her.”
Hannigan ordered the doctor out. All through the examination, Lotus sat beside the bed, shivering. It was almost dawn. Hannigan had people out in the corridor, down in the lobby, and out on the street. The room was secure. Durell felt as if he were wrapped in cotton-wool and stowed away in a vault. He wondered what had been done with Colonel Saajadi’s body, and what would happen when Iranian Security missed one of their top offices. He might soon face a choice of deportation, jail. or a firing squad.
“I wish you hadn’t killed him,” Hannigan said worriedly. “Even if he was a traitor, you can’t prove a bit of it. Neither can you prove that Ta-Po is openly backing Har-Buri. Maybe I’d better signal for somebody to take your place, Cajun. You should be in a hospital, anyway.”
“No, I’ll stick with it. It’s personal, now.” Durell looked at Lotus, who sat with her hands folded in her lap, eyes downcast. “What I have to do now is find Professor Ouspanaya. He’s in Teheran, you say?”
“He was, yes. Not now. The Soviets moved him to their resort house on the Caspian. One of my people saw them hustle him away, early last night.”
“Can you give me directions to this place?"
“Sure, Sam, but what good will it do? They won’t let you talk to Ouspanaya.”
“I think they will. I have some pointed questions to ask about Tanya.”
Hannigan pulled at his moustache. “Where is she, by the way?”
“I wish I knew, but I don’t.”
“That’s the truth? Then what about Har-Buri’s hideout? Can you draw me a map to the place? It shouldn’t be kept just in your head, Cajun.”
“All right,” Durell agreed. “But use it only if I don’t come back. Then you can turn it over to Iranian I.S., if you know anybody there you can trust.”
Hannigan looked at Lotus. “What about this child? What can we do about her? We owe her something for helping you out of Saajadi’s house. But the C.P.R. people will raise hell about her, knowing she’s come over to us.”
“Lotus?” Durell said. She looked up, and her dark lashes made lovely black fans against her peach-tinted cheek. “Do you want to come with me?”
“I don’t know what to do,” she whispered.
“Can you drive a car?”
“Yes, I am very good operator. I drive Madame Hung, as part of my job.”
Durell considered his bandages. “Then you can do some driving for me,” he said.
The Chinese girl began to weep.
Hannigan got him his own car from the embassy garage. It was a small, blue Triumph with an extra petrol tank under the luggage rack. He was very dubious when Durell levered himself out of bed.
“You’ll never make it. I should send someone else. That woman made mincemeat out of you, Cajun."
“I’ll manage.”
The room began a slow gyration as Durell dressed. It was broad daylight now. Lotus helped him on with his socks and shoes. It was good to get back into his own clothing again. He had lost his sunglasses somewhere, and he asked Hannigan for his pair, Hannigan made out an expense c
hit for it. “They cost me six bucks.”
“And I’ll want another gun.”
“We don’t have the S&W’s you prefer.”
“I’ll take anything except a Colt .45. That’s military issue, and there’s too much red tape going with it.”
Hannigan produced a Browning for him. Breakfast was sent up, and Durell ate hungrily. After his third cup of coffee, he felt better. He took three aspirins to ease his aches and pains and made his last request.
“Money, Rafe. All you can spare.”
Hannigan looked agonized. “I don’t know if the budget can take it, Sam.”
“Bend a little. How much do you have on you?”
“Couple hundred, I think. I’m not sure.”
“Count it. It’s a sign of the affluent society when a man no longer can tell exactly how much cash he’s got in his wallet. You should be ashamed of your prosperity, Rafe.”
“It’s my own money,” Hannigan mourned.
He counted it out reluctantly.
It was after lunch before they left the Royal Teheran. Hannigan arranged it efficiently. They used the back stairs, going through the kitchens to a loading area. The blue Triumph was parked there. Lotus slipped quickly behind the wheel, frowned for a moment, and Durell eased into the cramped little bucket seat beside her.
“I’m a little nervous,” the girl said. “I don’t know what came over me, with you. I feel—lost.”
“How is your hand?”
“It only hurts a little now.”
The doctor had put a splint on her broken finger. She handled the wheel a little awkwardly, but once she adjusted to the Triumph’s power, she drove quite well. No one stopped them. No policeman flagged them down as they worked out of Teheran’s wide boulevards and took the road to the north. Durell slumped in his seat and kept on his sunglasses, hoping there were no barricades on the highway. They were in luck. If there was an alarm out for him, because of Colonel Saajadi, it wasn’t evident.
The highway bent east and then north to cross the Elburz Mountains. The distance to Babul on the Caspian coast was under two hundred miles. Lotus found a scarf in the map compartment and tied it around her thick hair. It streamed behind her like a gay pennant as she drove. Her young face was serious.
Assignment Moon Girl Page 10