Dr. Death

Thirteen

There was a long moment of silence. Finally, Li Chin broke it.

"See, Carter?" she said. "We should have known. Never trust a woman who knows too much about French cooking."

Michelle's eyes blazed. She whipped her head to the general.

"I want that girl disposed of!" she said viciously. "Now! And painfully!"

The general held up his hand and made a reproving sound.

"Now, now, my dear," he said, in Oxford-accented English, "that hardly would be hospitable. No. In fact, I think we are quite fortunate to have Miss Chin as our guest. She is, after all, the representative of a large and powerful business concern. A concern with many interests in oil. They would hardly care to have those interests destroyed. So I'm sure that she'll find it to her advantage to cooperate with us."

"For a man who's just lost about twenty of his troops, you're pretty genial," I said.

"Do not trouble yourself on that score," said the general calmly. "They were incompetent, therefore they died. It is one of the risks of being a soldier in any army."

He turned to the lieutenant.

"I take it you have made sure they are unarmed?"

The lieutenant made a brisk salute.

"Oui, man General. They were thoroughly searched."

The general waved his arm at the door.

"In that case, leave us. We have business to discuss."

The lieutenant executed a clean about-face and went through the doorway, taking his men with him. The door closed quietly.

"Please, Mr. Carter, Miss Chin," said the general, "sit down. Won't you join us in a cognac? It's rather good. Forty years in the cask. My private stock."

"Seasoned with prussic acid?" said Li Chin.

The general smiled.

"Both of you are far more valuable to me alive than dead," he said, pouring out cognac into two crystal snifters and handing them to us as we sat down on a couch opposite Michelle. "But perhaps it is time for me to explain a few things to you."

"I'm all ears," I said dryly.

The general leaned back in his chair and took a slow, savoring sip of his cognac.

"As you have probably realized by now," he said, "neither President De Gaulle nor his successors ever managed to completely destroy the OAS, even after the failure of our assassination attempts against him and the forced exile of most of our military leaders. Indeed, that forced exile simply led to a complete change of tactics on our part. We decided to build up our organization outside of mainland France, and when we acted once again, to attack from the outside. Meantime, we continued to increase the number of underground sympathizers within the government, and to increase the number of active members outside France. These activities came to a head some time ago, with the acquisition of Mont Pelee as our base, and the acquisition of Fernand Duroche as our — shall we say, technical advisor?"

"The acquisition of Fernand Duroche?" I repeated dryly.

The general glanced at Michelle. She shrugged.

"Tell him," she said casually. "It doesn't matter now."

"M'sieur Duroche was, I am afraid," said the general, "kidnapped. Michelle had long been a sympathizer of our cause in secret. M'sieur Duroche was strongly opposed to us. It was necessary to requisition his services under duress."

"And the letters he wrote to you, which you showed to Remy St. Pierre — fakes," I said, rather than asked.

"Yes," Michelle said. "As were the letters which my father received from me while he was in captivity. Letters in which I said I too had been kidnapped, and would be tortured to death unless he did as he was asked."

"Wow," said Li Chin, "this kid is some loving daughter."

"There are some things which are more important than family ties," said Michelle coldly.

"Indeed, there are," agreed the general. "And with the reluctant help of Fernand Duroche, we are going to achieve those things. But suppose I let M'sieur Duroche personally explain precisely how we shall achieve those things."

The general picked up a phone on his desk, pushed a button, and snapped an order into it. He put it down and sipped at his cognac. No one spoke. I glanced covertly at my watch. After a moment the door opened, and a man stepped into the room. I say stepped. I should say shuffled. He was slumped over as if totally defeated, his eyes on the floor. I couldn't help thinking how ironic his old name, Dr. Death, really was.

"Duroche," said the general, as if addressing a lower order of servant, "this is Nick Carter, an American intelligence agent, and Miss Li Chin, advisor to a large financial concern. They are interested in learning what you have developed for us, and how it works. Come over here and tell them."

Duroche shuffled forward without a word, to stand in the middle of the room, facing us.

"Talk!" snapped the general.

Duroche raised his head. His eyes met Michelle's. She stared coldly back at him. A look of anguish came over his face, then faded. He squared his shoulders slightly.

"Thanks to the woman I thought was my daughter," he said, his voice trembling but clear with his recital, "but who is instead a traitor to both her father and her country, I have been blackmailed into working for these scum. I have produced for them, I admit with shame, a unique underwater propulsion device. It is no more than five feet long, and one foot in diameter, containing over thirty pounds of TNT. It need not be fired from tubes, but can be dropped over the side of any craft, and becomes self-propelled when it reaches a depth of one hundred feet. At that time, a self-contained computer, programmed for the target, sends it on a random course to target. Its course is programmed not only to be random, but to avoid obstacles and pursuing devices.

Duroche looked at me.

"Once this device is launched," he said, "it is impossible to stop it. Because its course is random, it cannot be predicted. Because it can avoid obstacles and pursuers, it cannot be successfully attacked. The computer sends it to its target every time."

"It has been tested," said the general. "Tested many times."

Duroche nodded in unhappy agreement.

"So you see, Carter," said the general, waving his cognac snifter expansively, "there is nothing you can do to stop us. In less than two hours, a few dozen boats of all sizes and types will leave Martinique. They will scatter throughout the Caribbean and the South Atlantic. In some cases they will transfer our weapons to other boats. Then they will become lost in the vast small-boat population of the seas. You could no more find them in a year, let alone a week or so — let alone before we strike Curaçao in eight hours — than you could find a few dozen particular grains of sand on a large beach."

He paused for effect.

"Skip the dramatics, General," I said. "Make your point."

He flushed slightly, then recovered.

"My point," he said, "is that the Curaçao refinery is for all practical purposes, rubble. That is to show you what we can do. And what we will do, unless the United States, shall we say, cooperates."

"The point, General," I said. "Come to the point. What's the blackmail?"

He flushed again.

"Blackmail is not a word to use about soldiers fighting for their cause. Nevertheless. The terms are these: The United States will, in two days, acknowledge Martinique as no longer a part of France, but an independent republic."

"With you and your flunkies in charge, no doubt."

"Again, I object to your terminology. But no matter. Yes, the OAS will govern Martinique. It will be protected both by the United States, and by its position as an independent country in the United Nations."

"And, of course, you'll be satisfied with Martinique," I said sarcastically.

The general smiled.

"As an independent country, Martinique will send a diplomatic representative to France. For the first time, our native land will be forced to deal with the OAS as equals. And soon — soon after that, a situation analogous to that of Generalissimo Franco's revolt against the Spanish Republic will arise."

"The French military will come over to the side of the OAS, headquartered in Martinique, and take over France," I said.

"Exactly. And after that — well, it is not only Frenchmen who sympathize with our cause and our philosophy. Certain others…"

"A few Nazis left over from the Second World War, no doubt?"

Again, the general smiled.

"Much maligned individuals, who share our desire for a disciplined world, a world without troublemakers, a world in which the naturally superior take their natural place as leaders."

"Today, Martinique, tomorrow, the world," said Li Chin, with disgust.

"Yes!" cried Michelle fiercely. "A world ruled by the aristocrats of nature, the truly intelligent, who will tell the stupid masses what is good for them, and eliminate those who would make trouble!"

"Sieg Heil," I said softly.

The general ignored me. Or maybe he just liked the sound of the words.

"So, Mr. Carter, we come to your personal part in our plan. The part for which we have left you alive so far."

"That's funny," said Li Chin. "I kept getting the feeling you'd kept him alive so far because you weren't able to kill him."

The general flushed again. He had the kind of fair complexion that flushes very obviously and very rapidly. It must have embarrassed him, and I enjoyed that.

"Several times you were getting too close too fast. That was Michelle's failure. She was supposed to see that didn't happen until the appropriate moment."

It was Michelle's turn to show embarrassment, but she did it with a toss of her head.

"I told you. Those idiot lepers failed in their assignment. By the time I learned what had happened he was working with the Chinese girl, and I never found a chance to get them together until the Carnival. When that failed…"

The general waved his hand.

"It no longer matters. What matters is that we succeeded in tricking you into attacking the volcano in hopes of rescuing Michelle, and have now captured you and rendered you harmless. We will hold you here until the Curaçao refinery has been destroyed, and our weapons are well out to sea and undiscoverable. Then you will act as liaison to inform your government of our demands, and our firm timetable for their acceptance. Which was to be your role all along, with Michelle making sure you arrived when we wished, rather than when you did."

I felt anger coming to a boil within me. These Nazi hoodlums expected me to act as their messenger boy? It was with difficulty that I kept my voice low.

"There's only one trouble, General," I said. "I have arrived. And on my own terms."

He waved his hands.

"Admittedly, your arrival was more violent than I could have wished. But, as I said, it no longer matters."

"I think it does," I said. Then, turning: "Li Chin? How's the telephone working?"

Li Chin grinned.

"Bells are ringing. Have been for the last three minutes."

"Telephone?" said the general.

Michelle gasped.

"Her earring!" she said. "It's a trans-ceiver! And she only has one!"

The general was on his feet and across the room with remarkable speed for a man of his age. He lashed out his hand and whipped the earring from Li Chin's ear lobe. I winced. Her ears were pierced, and he had literally torn the earring from her flesh. A wide stain of blood immediately appeared on her lobe.

"Ouch," she said calmly.

"Where is the other earring?" demanded the general. The tone of affable hospitality had completely vanished from his voice.

"I loaned it to a friend of mine," said Li Chin. "A guy named Sweets. We like to keep in touch."

This time, Michelle's gasp was even sharper.

"The black man!" she said. "Hunter! He must have entered the volcano separately!"

The general shot a glance at her, then looked back down at the earring trans-ceiver.

"No matter," he said. "If he is within the crater, our television monitors will find him. And I will now destroy this fascinating little instrument, to cut off your contact with him."

"I wouldn't do that, General," I said. "Cut off our contact with him and this entire island may be blown halfway to France."

The general stared at me, then, with an obvious effort, relaxed his features into an unbelieving smile.

"I believe you are bluffing, Mr. Carter," he said.

I glanced at my watch.

"If Sweets Hunter doesn't get a signal on his trans-ceiver in exactly two minutes and thirty-one seconds, we'll all have a chance to find out," I said calmly.

"Much can happen in that time," said the general. He strode to his desk, picked up the telephone, and barked out a series of orders. General Alert. Find Hunter. Bring him here immediately.

"It's no use. General," I said. "That signal meant that Sweets has already found what he was looking for."

"Which is?" asked the general.

"One of two things," I said. "Either the armament for your weapons or their computers."

"The computers," said Fernand Duroche, before the general could silence him.

"Duroche," said the general, gritting his teeth in fury, "one more word and I will use the pistol at my hip to close your mouth forever."

"It doesn't matter, General, it had to be one or the other," I said. "I knew that you would wait until the last minute to add at least one vital element to your weapons, in order to make sure they weren't seized intact by a surprise raid on the boats. And the computers, being the most important element, are the likely choice to leave until last,"

The general said nothing, but his eyes narrowed. I knew I had hit home.

"You see, General," I said, "the 'kidnapping' of Michelle this evening happened at just a little too convenient a time. Convenient for her and you, if you were working together. If you knew we were here in Martinique, you must have known we were in Puerto Rico, and she could have been kidnapped much earlier. If she hadn't been working for you, that is. Because she was working for you, it was convenient to let her accompany us until she knew that our plans were to attack you. Then, she was conveniently 'kidnapped' in time to tell you everything."

I reached into my pocket, found my cigarettes, and lit one.

"Once I realized that," I went on, "I changed our plans. Li Chin and I came here to pay you a little visit. We knew it wouldn't come as a surprise, but we didn't want you to know that we knew. That's why we disguised our visit in the form of an attack, and then let you capture us."

Now the general's eyes were riveted to my face. He had given up all pretense of believing we were bluffing.

"You see, if we had just walked in and said we wanted to talk to you, Sweets Hunter wouldn't have been able to make his own little visit in another manner. Michelle would have wondered where he was right away and probably guessed that since it wouldn't make sense to have one man alone try to attack from outside in the crater, he must be inside. Inside in your computer storage room. Where he is right now."

"Patois!" Michelle said suddenly. "He speaks patois! He could have been hired as one of the native laborers for the trucks!"

The general's eyes hardened. His hand flashed out toward the telephone. But before he could pick it up, it rang. His hand hovered for an instant, then snatched at the receiver.

"Qui?" he said curtly. Then his knuckles went white on the instrument and he listened in silence for several moments.

"Do nothing," he said finally. "I will take charge myself."

He replaced the receiver and turned to me.

"Our guards say that a tall, thin black man has killed two of their number, taken their automatic weapons, and barricaded himself in the computer storage room. He threatens to blow up the computers if we attack."

"That," I said, "is the general idea."

"Impossible," said the general, studying my face for reactions. "Possible to disguise himself as a laborer to gain entrance, yes, but impossible to smuggle in explosives. All laborers are searched."

"What if the explosives are high-impact mini-grenades, disguised as a necklace of beads?" I asked.

"I don't believe you," the general said flatly.

"You will," I said, glancing at my watch, "in exactly three seconds."

"Countdown," said Li Chin. "Three… two… one… zero!"

The blast came exactly on schedule, as we had agreed with Sweets. It wasn't exactly a pound of TNT, or even as big as that produced by a standard grenade, but in the confines of the cement-block bunker, which held the entire force of the explosion in, it sounded gigantic. The noise was deafening. And even this far away, we could feel the shock waves. The biggest shock, however, came on the face of the general.

"Mon Dieu!" he gasped. "This is insanity…"

"That's only the beginning, General," I said calmly. "If Sweets doesn't get a buzz from us on his trans-ceiver in another two minutes, he sets off another mini-grenade. They aren't big, but one's big enough to blow up a couple of your computers."

"You can't!" Michelle cried. Her face was white. "You mustn't! Not inside the volcano! It's…"

"It's insanity!" said the general. "Any blast in here can set off shock waves that would revive the volcano! There could be a major eruption which would destroy the whole island! Even when we dug out our headquarters in the volcanic rock we didn't use explosives, we used specially cushioned drills."

"One blast every two minutes, General, unless…"

"Unless?"

"Unless you and all your men lay down your arms, evacuate the volcano, and surrender to authorities in Fort de France. Authorities, I might add, who have been specially picked by the Deuxieme Bureau to be without OAS sympathies."

The general curled his lips in a sneer.

"Absurd!" he said. "Why should we surrender? Even if you should destroy all the computers here, how do you know that we have not equipped some of the weapons already, on the boats ready for sailing?"

"I don't know," I said. "That's why a special squadron of U.S. planes from the base on Puerto Rico is circling outside the Lorrain and Marigot harbors. If even one of the boats in that harbor tries to move to water deep enough to launch one of your weapons, those planes will blast it out of the water."

"I don't believe it!" the general said. "That would be a hostile act by the U.S. toward France."

"It would be an act approved by the president of France personally, as an emergency measure."

The general was silent. He bit his lip and chewed on it.

"You're finished, General," I said. "You and the OAS. Surrender. If you don't, there'll be one blast every two minutes until all those computers are destroyed — and maybe all of us along with them. It's a risk we're willing to take. Are you?"

"Mr. Carter?"

I turned. Fernand Duroche was looking worried.

"Mr. Carter," he said, "you must understand that one of the…"

The general was fast, but I was faster. His hand hadn't gone halfway to the holster on his hip before I had launched myself at him in a running dive. My left shoulder slammed furiously into his chest, and he hurtled over backward in the chair. As his head hit the floor my fist connected with his chin. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Michelle rise, a knife suddenly flashing in her hand. I smashed my fist against the general's chin again, felt him go limp, and fumbled for the.45 at his hip.

"Stop!" Michelle screamed. "Stop or I'll cut his throat!"

I pulled myself to one knee, the.45 in my right hand, to see that loving daughter with the knife blade pressed to the jugular vein in her father's throat. Li Chin stood a few feet away, swaying warily, looking for an opening.

"Drop it!" Michelle snarled. "Drop the gun or I'll kill your precious Dr. Death!"

And then the lights went out.