Assassination Brigade

Thirteen

It was raining when we landed at Orly. As soon as I had deposited Elsa at the George V, where Hawk had reserved adjoining suites for us, I took a taxi to the Paris AXE office, which was located above a cafe on the Place St.-Michel. The offices were on die three top floors of the building and were soundproofed from the noise below. The proprietor of the establishment was an AXE agent whose code name was Bonaparte.

He greeted me at the door and led me to the stairs in the back that led to the offices above. As we passed through the smoky diningroom and bar, I was surprised to see that although there were many customers in the place, there were also some thirty or forty security police and AXE agents whom I recognized from previous encounters. I knew that something important must be taking place.

Hawk met me on the second floor. His face was grim, and he barely nodded as he led me into a private office and shut and locked the door.

“It looks like there’s no end to this business,” he said as he took an envelope from his pocket and passed it over to me. He stood with his back to me, looking out the window at the dark rain beating against the panes, while I read the letter inside the envelope.

The letter was typewritten:

The envelope had no address on it. Hawk, who had turned from the window, saw me frowning at die envelope and explained, “It was shoved under the door of the Chinese Embassy yesterday morning.”

“And it’s true that a Chinese nuclear missile disappeared?” I asked.

“All too true,” Hawk answered bitterly. “It happened within hours after you turned over the money from Satane Roc. You will note that the sum requested is exactly the same as the amount recovered from the casino.”

“You mean that a Chinese nuclear missile actually disappeared?” I was incredulous.

“Apparently,” Hawk pointed out, “there is no limit to our enemy’s ingenuity. Soon after your experience on the island, the Chinese were flying a nuclear missile to a secret testing site when the plane simply vanished. Until this note arrived, the Chinese thought the plane had crashed.”

“What about the crew?” I asked, puzzled. “They must have been well screened before they were picked for an assignment like that.”

“Oh, yes,” Hawk agreed. “But it may be a significant lead that only a few weeks ago, the pilot, who was one of the most trusted and loyal men in the Chinese airforce, was out of China on an assignment to Albania. He wasn’t watched closely while he was there, and, in fact, the Chinese cannot account for his activities during several days of the visit. They are still checking. It’s probable that during that time he was reached by our adversary who might have tampered with his brain.”

“Are the Chinese going to pay the ransom?” I asked, handing the letter back to Hawk.

He nodded. “That’s why we’re meeting here now. Come on upstairs.”

On the top floor of the building, four Chinese gentlemen, looking dour and a bit suspicious, were waiting. Their presence explained the tight security in the building. One of the men was an interpreter and, through him, Hawk introduced me to the other three whose names I recognized as being high-ranking members of the Chinese Communist party. Each gave me a penetrating look as we exchanged handshakes. Then all three spoke in rapid Chinese to the interpreter.

“They say,” the interpreter said to me, “that they are honored to have such a distinguished representative aid them in recovering the nuclear missile. They also say that the chairman of the party has spoken with your president and that he has instructed them to cooperate with you in every way.”

“I, too, am honored,” I said to the interpreter. “I shall try to be worthy of the trust of the People’s Republic.”

That formality done, I asked, “Has a decision been made about paying the two million dollars?”

The interpreter conferred with his countrymen again and then handed me a large leather satchel that was engraved with Chinese characters and equipped with a lock. The interpreter unlocked it and opened to reveal packets of bills inside.

“Two million dollars,” he said. “Tomorrow’s edition of the London Times will carry the classified ad worded as the note instructed.”

“All right,” I said. “Lock the money up again. I want it to remain in your possession until we receive further word.”

After the interpreter had translated my words, the three men bowed their heads gravely, and we again shook hands. Hawk told me that arrangements had already been made to have the Chinese representatives remain in the living quarters at the AXE office until there had been a response to the London Times ad. In that way, the ransom money would be well guarded until payoff time came.

Hawk rode back with me in a taxi to the hotel. It was dusk. The rain and the depressing weather seemed a perfect match for our moods.

“Whoever’s behind this,” Hawk muttered, “must be enjoying our predicament. Imagine stealing a nuclear missile and offering it back for ransom!”

“He chose some clever names for the ad,” I remarked. “Alexander and Kublai Khan.”

“He’s a madman, but a very cunning one,” Hawk observed. “What I wouldn’t give to get my hands on him.” He glanced at me.

When we reached the hotel, Hawk dropped me off and continued on to the American Embassy where he would be staying while in Paris.

When I reached my suite, I was surprised to find a note from Elsa. It said that she had been invited to a party in Montmartre and that she was going ahead. She left the address for me so that I could join her if I liked. I decided, instead, to have a couple of chilled martinis and a good dinner in my room. Before I went to bed, I phoned the desk to have a copy of the London Times delivered to me early the next morning.

Elsa still hadn’t returned to the hotel by the time I received my copy of the newspaper early the next day, and I couldn’t tell if there was anything significant in her overnight absence. The ad was there in the Times, though, worded exactly as the ransom note had instructed. As I read it, I imagined a pleased “Alexander” reading it too. He could be in Paris, or in London, or in Monte Carlo, or, for that matter, in Tibet.

I was anxious to get to the AXE office, which, I knew, would be the first place to know if further instructions were received. I was dressed and leaving the suite when Elsa returned.

She was still in an evening gown, with a mink coat slung over her shoulders. She looked drowsy, but she smiled and kissed me, letting the coat fall to the floor. Then she turned for me to unzip the back of her gown.

“I missed you at the party, Dumplink,” she said. “It was great fun. Lots of Frenchmen. The party’s still going on, if you want to go.”

“No thanks,” I said. “I have some business to attend to. You sleep, and I’ll phone you later.”

“Business, business, business,” she said, patting my face. “Remember, all work and no play makes Tony a dull boy.” She stepped out of her gown and crossed over to the connecting door to her suite, looking very desirable in her sheer bra and pantyhose. She paused briefly in the doorway and beckoned to me with her finger. When I shook my head, she blew me a kiss and disappeared.