Collected Fiction (1940-1963)

by William P. McGivern

  Matsubi paused apologetically. “I’m afraid I digress. Anyway, to come back to Major Kok. He was hard working and talented, but his talent lay in destruction. One day Major Kok was sent to the town of Hiroshima, late in nineteen forty-five. He was there when the Atom bomb was dropped on the city. Major Kok was found several days later and he was in serious shape. One of his eyeballs had literally melted and run down his cheek. One arm was burned off the elbow and his whole body looked as if it had been turned for hours on a spit above hot coals. He suffered a great deal, I imagine, since he lay in the wreckage of a home for several days before he was found. Major Kok didn’t lose consciousness. He remained conscious all that while and he thought considerably about the things that happened to him and who had done them to him.

  “When Major Kok was released from the hospital the war was over. He was a travesty of a human being and since he had once been quite handsome this almost drove him insane. I was instrumental in having him brought here. That took considerable ingenuity but I won’t bore you with those details. I did what I could for Major Kok but he had become quite a hopeless case. His delight in destruction, which had resulted from some feeling of insecurity or inadequacy, had become a raging flame that was literally maniacal. He lived for vengeance, but only, for a specific kind. He wanted to inflict on his enemies the same pain he had suffered. I worked with him tirelessly for months but it was hopeless. He was becoming more and more dangerously unstable so I was forced to have him locked away before he harmed himself or one of us. I made him a prisoner, but to prevent his getting any worse I let him use a laboratory and continue his experiments. His experiments, gentlemen, men, are horribly unpleasant. He has done things to occasional rats and birds which would make your mind stagger with loathing. But perhaps I have said enough of Major Kok.

  “We will come back to you. I need the information you have. Unless I get it quickly I will give Major Kok the great satisfaction of a live subject to work on. Now,” Matsubi paused and smiled again. “Has my little story frightened you? Will you save us all such an unpleasant prospect and tell me what I must know? Or are you unmoved?”

  PETER glanced down and saw that the backs of his hands were sweating. He swallowed hard.

  “I don’t know anything you’d want to know,” he said stubbornly.

  Matsubi smiled dreamily at the ceiling. “When I tell Major Kok you are Americans he will be insane with delight. Perhaps it’s unkind of me to deny him such joy after all. The Major has suffered greatly at your hands, gentlemen. Maybe I am being too humane. Perhaps the major’s maniacal urges are normal and my forebearance abnormal. I am an amateur psychiatrist and I could easily be wrong. But I have a horror of violence. I wish to prevent suffering if possible. Won’t you reconsider?”

  Deveer looked at the back of his nails and said nothing. His square stubborn face was white. Peter stood up suddenly and his chair crashed to the floor. The light in his eye was fanatic.

  “Do whatever the hell you want to,” he yelled. “I haven’t got anything to say.”

  “We will see,” Matsubi said quietly.

  He pushed a button on his desk and the door opened immediately. Kato stood there with three soldiers at his back. “What is it, Professor?” he asked blandly.

  Matsubi nodded at Peter. “This young man is anxious to meet Major Kok. See that he is not disappointed.

  Leave him there but see that the major’s enthusiasm doesn’t carry him away. That is all.”

  Kato closed in on Peter’s side, one hand on the gun at his belt. The three soldiers moved quickly around him, cutting off any futile hope for a break. “Come along,” Kato said.

  Peter flashed a look at Deveer. “Don’t worry about me. They won’t get anything. We’ll stick this out.”

  He was hurried across the room and the door slammed behind him. Deveer hadn’t moved; he still sat looking at the backs of his nails, lips clamped tightly together.

  Matsubi walked around and sat down behind his desk.

  “You’ve had nothing to say,” he commented.

  “No point in talking,” Deveer said. “You’ve got all the high cards.”

  “Oh, yes,” Matsubi smiled. “That is what you say in the games of cards you play.”

  “That’s right. When you’ve got low cards you don’t do much talking. You wait until you get some high cards yourself.”

  “Do you think that will happen?”

  “It’s happened before.”

  “Do you think it can happen now?” Deveer took out his cigarettes and Crossed his legs. He looked directly into Matsubi’s face. “Yes, I think so,” he said.

  “Where will you get them?” Matsubi’s voice was politely puzzled.

  “From you.”

  MATSUBI laughed, a strangely shrill laugh. “You are so humorous,” he said.

  “Think so?” Deveer stood up and flicked ashes on the floor. “That kid you took out of here is a baby. He doesn’t know the score when it’s staring him in the face. Maybe he’ll talk but he won’t tell you anything you don’t know right now. The thing you have to know he doesn’t know. And you don’t even have an idea of what the one important thing is that you’ve got to know. How do my cards look now, Matsubi? I think they’re changing spots. I think they’re getting higher.”

  “Do you want to go on?” Matsubi asked gently.

  “Sure. There’s one thing you’ve got to know. And that’s how to keep the good old U.S. from coming after us.

  And unless you keep them from coming they’ll be here with an airborne army pretty quick. You know what else they’ll bring? Little eggs like they dropped on Hiroshima. B-29’s with bellies full of four thousand pound bombs. Flame throwers and Cork screws and blow-torches to dig you out of this rat hole. That won’t make you happy.”

  “Do you know what would keep all that from happening?”

  “No.” Deveer laughed. “How does that sound? You can’t pull it out of me because I don’t know.”

  “Why are you telling me this then?” Matsubi said.

  Deveer put his cigarette out on the floor and put his hands On Matsubi’s desk. He leaned forward and smiled without any humor. “Because I think we can make a deal.”

  Matsubi pursed his lips and began to nod his head. “I see,” he said softly.

  “I see.”

  “How about it?”

  “You’re cards aren’t that high. I want details.”

  “Okay. We’re on an army mission to find you, Matsubi. That we’ve done.

  Our next order was to report immediately if we did find any Japs in this area. If we don’t report they’ll know something’s Wrong, and they’ll come in after us.”

  “Then you should report right away.”

  “That’s it.”

  “You should report that you didn’t find us. Is that what you mean?”

  “That’s it. But all radio contact must be by code. And “there’s a code signature that only Rick Mason knows.”

  “Rick Mason? Who is he?”

  “He’s the man in charge. If I sent the message without the code signature they’d know something was wrong. He has to send it.”

  “Maybe we should find Rick Mason and send him to talk with Major Kok.”

  “No good. You could kill Rick Mason but he wouldn’t talk. He’s tough as whalebone.”

  “But to try is healthy,” Matsubi said.

  “There’s an easier way. Pick up Mason and let me talk with him.”

  “Oh, I see. You would—”

  “That’s it,” Deveer nodded. “And it won’t be hard. Here’s the pitch . . .”

  CHAPTER IV

  RICK stopped and glanced up at the sun. “How about a break?” he said to Clare Holloway. “We’re only about fifteen minutes from the plane and we’ve made good time.”

  “Even with me along?” she asked.

  “You’ve kept up,” he said.

  He sat down on a stump and put a cigarette between his dry lips. Taking off his cap he ran h
is hand over his face. The girl leaned against a tree and slapped irritably against a mosquito that settled on her ankle. She was hot and dirty. Brambles had scraped her legs, the sun had been like the touch of a hot knife after the first hour and every mosquito in Asia had apparently discovered that she was wearing shorts and an armless blouse.

  “Damn!” she said bitterly, as one buzzed hungrily around her knees.

  Rick lit his cigarette and kept his face straight.

  “Don’t be so noble,” she said. “You’re dying to say ‘I told you so’, aren’t you? Why don’t you, then? I’d like that better than your tolerant, forebearing silence.”

  “I told you so,” he said mildly.

  “Oh, you’re impossible.”

  “Good logical point of view. Here, take a cigarette. The smoke may help a little.”

  “Thanks,” she said sulkily.

  He lit the cigarette for her and then dropped his own on the ground arid crushed it with his heel.

  “Let’s be going,” he said. “Peter and Deveer will beat us back if we don’t shake it.”

  “Thanks for the smoke,” she said. “Your idea of a ten minute break is two drags off a cigarette.” She took two or three deep drags and blew the smoke along her arms. “Maybe that will help. But I’m sure cigarette smoke will turn out to be something mosquitoes here just love.”

  They hit the trail again and in shortly over fifteen minutes came to the edge of the plateau in which the plane had landed. The sun was dropping out of sight and its last rays coated the plane’s wings with a silver burnish.

  They walked through the stubble that grew in the plateau, covering the last hundred yards to the ship.

  “I never saw anything so beautiful,” Clare said tiredly.

  When they reached the plane Clare climbed inside and Rick looked around. Obviously they were the first back. He checked his watch. The other two had been gone well over two hours.

  He climbed inside the ship then and broke out canned meat, coffee and an electric stove. While he was setting the stove up to operate off the ship’s batteries Clare joined him. She was wearing slacks and white shirt with sleeves. She hadn’t washed her face but she looked surprisingly good.

  “The floor show is over,” she said. “The flora and fauna of this area have seen the last of my charms. I’m going to dress like a cocoon until we get out. I was pretty much of a pain in the neck, wasn’t I?”

  “Pretty much,” he said, watching the coffee simmer.

  “You make apologies so easy,” she said, dryly. “What I’m trying to say is I’ve been acting like a spoiled brat, which is just what I am.”

  “Okay,” he said, “Let’s start all Over. Get a can of biscuit and some mustard out of stock.”

  THEY had sandwiches and coffee sitting at the edge of the hatch watching the night crowding down on them with incredible swiftness. With the night came a cold damp wind.

  “You’re worried, aren’t you?” she said.

  He nodded slowly. “Peter and Deveer should have been back by now. I don’t like the idea of trying to hunt them up. I’d probably get lost myself.”

  “Couldn’t we set off a flare?”

  “We could. I’ve been thinking about it. It’s a pretty garish way of advertising that we’re here.”

  “Is there anyone else in this neck of the woods?”

  “I don’t know.”

  The darkness was complete now. A few stars were breaking through the black curtain of sky but their shine was not illuminating.

  “Get a bedroll,” Rick said suddenly. “We’re going to pitch a camp away from the plane. If anyone comes snooping around I don’t want to be where they expect me.”

  She hesitated a moment as if about to ask a question. Then she said, “Right away,” and went inside the dark plane. Rick took the forty-five from his holster and checked its action. He was worried now. Fighting shadows was a quick way to wear out and accomplish nothing.

  Clare was back in a moment or two. “I brought yours, too.”

  “Thanks.”

  They walked a hundred yards from the plane until Rick stumbled across a shallow depression. He explored around and found that it was about a foot deep and ten feet square.

  “This will do,” he said. “If there’s starlight we can see the silhouette of the plane. And we’ll be hard to see.” Clare dropped a bedroll on the ground and sat On top of it.

  “Do I have to turn in?” she asked. “No. I’m going to sit up for a while and wait for Peter and Deveer. They may be along yet.”

  He made a pillow of his bedroll and propped it against one side of the depression. He settled his back against it and stretched his legs out. For an hour they sat without talking.

  Then Clare said: “Can I sit close to you? I’m no softy but this is creepy.”

  “Sure.”

  She draped her roll beside him and sat with him. She was close enough so their arms touched.

  “What do you think happened to them?” she asked.

  “Could be a number of things. One of them might have sprained an ankle. They might be lost.”

  The night got colder and a whipping wind made scurrying sounds through the stubble. The stars were pale and lonely in the sky.

  Clare thrust her feet into the opening of her sleeping bag, then wormed herself into its depths. “I’m not deserting you,” she said. “But I’m frozen.”

  “You’ll be asleep in ten minutes.”

  “I will not.”

  SHE was asleep in five. He listened to her regular breathing for a moment or two, then settled himself down more comfortably. He was worried. He didn’t like the absence of Peter and Deveer. He didn’t intend to sleep, but the long hours in the plane and the afternoon’s hike had tired him. He yawned once or twice and he felt his lids getting heavier. He roused himself but it did no good. In a few minutes he was as sleepy as ever.

  Finally he dozed off . . .

  He never knew what wakened him. A footfall, a sharp breath, perhaps a sudden cold wind against his cheek. One moment he was sleeping; the next instant he was awake, his senses alert and tense. The night was still; at his side he could hear the girl’s even breathing. He lay motionless until his eyes adjusted to the night. Then he found the butt of his forty-five with his right hand and got slowly to his feet.

  There was a noise behind him. A shod foot scraping on stone. A human noise. He wheeled, crouching as he turned, but he was too late. A dim figure hurtled toward him landing on his back. From around the shallow depression other figures materialized.

  There was no noise, no outcry. Just the rush, of their feet, hoarse panting breath. The figure on his back had locked one, arm about Rick’s throat. The other hand gripped Rick’s gun hand with steel strength.

  Rick shook furiously in an attempt to get the gun free before the other attackers reached him. But he didn’t have a chance. A wave of human flesh poured over him, knocking him to his knees.

  He heard the girl cry out. She screamed his name once and her voice choked off. Something hard hit Rick at the base of his skull and he felt himself sinking down. For a minute everything was unbearably bright; then it was completely black.

  CHAPTER V

  RICK came around slowly. The first thing he saw was a low concrete ceiling above his head. He was lying on his back, head resting on a coarse pillow. His head hurt. His tongue felt thick and furry. He closed his eyes again and the pain in his head got worse.

  “Feeling pretty bad?”

  The voice came from somewhere on his left. It was a voice he’d heard before, but he couldn’t remember where. His head hurt when he tried to remember.

  “Feeling like hell,” he said, because he had been asked a question and he had been brought strictly about things like that.

  “There’s nothing seriously wrong with you. You’ll be okay after a while. How about a cup of hot tea?”

  Rick opened his eyes then and rolled his head to the left. Deveer was sitting on a cot watching him. Deveer’
s hard square, face was sympathetic in a mild sort of way.

  “Tea sounds swell,” he said.

  Deveer took a tin cup from a tray at his elbow and poured tea for from a kettle. The tea was steaming hot and it smelled good. Rick tried getting up on one elbow and it worked all right. He took the cup and drank a little of the tea. It brought him back to life. He started feeling things again. That wasn’t too good because everything he felt hurt like hell. He remembered the attack in the night, the swarm of men, the sapping he’d taken. And he re. membered the girl’s frantic scream.

  “Okay,” he said to Deveer. “It’s okay.” He swung his legs to the floor and sat up. He was in a room about twenty feet square. There were two cots, a basin, some moldy looking matting on the floor. The One door was of heavy wood and looked stout and durable. He looked at Deveer. “Let’s have the whole story.”

  “This is a Jap supper club,” Deveer said. “They picked up Pete and me last night. They believed our story about looking for a good landing field for an American airline. Then they picked you and the girl up.”

  “Where is she?” Rick said.

  “They’re taking good care of her,” Deveer said.

  “They didn’t exactly pick us up,” Rick said dryly. “They were pretty drastic about it. Are you sure she’s okay?”

  “Yes, she’s fine. They’re sorry about roughing you up. But I guess you’re not interested in their apologies.”

  “How did they get you and Peter? Let me have the whole deal.”

  Deveer lit a cigarette and tossed the match carelessly on the floor. “We just ran into a party of Japs headed by a smooth cookie who calls himself Lieutenant Kato. He brought us here and we met a guy named Matsubi who seemed to be the big boss.

  “Matsubi wanted to know what we were doing here and I gave him the story about looking for alternate landing fields. He seemed to believe me. After that I asked him if we could Use his wireless. He said sure.”

  Rick put his tin cup down slowly. “He’ll let us wire the States?”