The Betrayers

Chapter Thirteen

WE CAUGHT THE late afternoon plane to Kahului with a few minutes to spare and even managed to get seats together. Taking off, we had a good view of Honolulu harbor from the air and caught a glimpse of the naval installations at Pearl Harbor to the west. I would have liked to know more about those. After all, that was where the Japs had struck in 1941. It wasn't inconceivable that the Chinese had hit on the notion of perpetuating a good old Oriental custom, with Monk's help.

We straightened out over the ocean and flew along in a more or less easterly direction past Waikiki and Diamond Head, discovering that what had looked like a solid mountain from the ground was actually an extinct volcano with a definite, hollow crater. There were more boats out than there had been that morning, but the seas around Oahu were still by no means crowded.

"Matt?" Isobel's voice indicated that, having punished me sufficiently, she was willing to stop being mad at me.

I turned from the window, reminding myself that I was still playing a role. My cover as an agent in disgrace killing time in the tropics hadn't, as far as I knew, greatly impressed anybody who really mattered-I'd never been as sold on it as the man who'd thought of it-but I couldn't just drop it without warning the opposition that I had something new and tricky in mind. And as a gentleman of enforced leisure, setting out to spend a couple of glorious Hawaiian days, and nights, in the company of an attractive woman, I wouldn't normally be paying a great deal of attention to the view.

Isobel asked, "Did we… did we make it, Matt?"

I frowned. "Did we make what?"

"Well, you were trying to lose them, weren't you? I mean, drugging that boy and dashing for the plane!"

I laughed. "Isobel, I'm afraid you're an optimist. You don't think that kid was the only one, do you? Pardon me for flattering myself a bit, but to keep watch on an old curly wolf like yours truly, you'd generally figure on using your shadows at least two deep, maybe three."

"You mean there's somebody else-"

"There's a hook-nosed gent four seats to the rear, a dark man in a dark business suit with a briefcase. I spotted him at the hotel this morning, using binoculars industriously. Apparently he's taken over the watch from our sleeping young friend. And you can bet there'll be somebody waiting to back him up when we get to Kahului, in case we should manage to ditch him, too."

"Then what in the world was the point of-" She checked herself, and held up her hand quickly. "AIJ right, all right! Don't bite. I withdraw the question. Just give the orders, Master, and they shall be obeyed. But may I ask where Kahului is, since I'll presumably learn that much when we land, anyway?"

"It's on the island of Maui," I said. Isobel looked blank. I grinned. "You should have done some homework before coming out here. Maul is the second island down from Oahu, just beyond Molokai. In addition to Kahului, where the airport is, and various other communities, it's got an old town on it called Lahaina. The whalers used to anchor in the roadstead and come ashore to get drunk and cohabit-I'm quoting the book-with the native girls, who were apparently both beautiful and willing. But the missionaries came along and spoiled everything. Now there are several luxury hotels just up the coast. You can still get all the liquor you want, I gather, but these days you have to bring your own girl."

Isobel's eyes narrowed slightly. "And I suppose we've got a reservation at one of these hotels?"

"That is more or less correct, ma'am," I said. "I called around while you were packing and found a place that wasn't full. But the word is reservations, plural. Two rooms. Just as chaste as can be, ma'am."

She regarded me for a moment, and smiled slowly. "All right, Mart. Thank you. I didn't mean to be stuffy, but I don't believe it was part of the final agreement.

Of course I did say I'd do anything. But I don't like to be taken for granted, in that respect. I want to be asked."

"I'll ask," I said. "Don't worry, if it becomes indicated, I'll surely ask. But regardless of how many beds actually get slept in by how many people, I'd like us to present a nice immoral image to the world. I hope you don't mind."

She shrugged. "Well, I'm not quite the society whore my husband likes to tell me I am, when he's in a mood to enumerate his many afflictions. On the other hand, I'm hardly pure enough to qualify as a Vestal Virgin tending the sacred flame, or whatever they tended. So by all means, let's tear my poor reputation to tatters, what's left of it."

On acquaintance, she showed a kind of humorous honesty that tended to overcome the first impression created by her arrogant mannerisms and snooty good looks. I was annoyed to find myself beginning to like her. It was about time, I told myself, that I learned to keep my affectionate nature under control. I was an agent on a mission, not a friendly puppy out for a romp. Still, a little precautionary briefing wouldn't hurt me and might help her.

"One suggestion," I said. "Or maybe you could call it a warning. I don't know how this will break. But you might just possibly wind up in an awkward spot with people asking questions. I don't expect it, but it could happen. If it does, I think you'll be best off if you just give them your straight sister-in-law act, without frills."

She asked calmly, "And what do I say about you, Matt? If I'm asked?"

"As far as I'm concerned," I said, "you can tell them anything you want. Anything you know."

She laughed. "That's very generous of you. Since you've been very careful to see that I know hardly anything."

"You may be grateful for that," I said. "The less you know-the less you appear to know-the easier time you're likely to have. I suggest, as a guideline, the following story: you came to Hawaii to find the other heir to the Marner millions-well, million. Your husband doesn't know you're here. He wouldn't approve, of course, but you were desperate, you saw grim poverty ahead for you and Kenneth, and you hoped you could persuade your unknown brother-in-law to share the inherited wealth. It developed that you could, by falling in with certain lewd suggestions. Well, what your husband doesn't know won't hurt him, and for a quarter of a million, to paraphrase your own words, you'd spend a weekend with the devil in the hottest corner of hell. That's your story. Stick to it and don't elaborate on it at all."

She nodded. "It should be easy enough to remember."

"Don't kid yourself. Nothing's easy, when you're being interrogated. Just keep in mind that you simply don't know there's anything mysterious going on. You don't know that I'm anything but a rather crude and common character who married your husband's impossible sister, now fortunately dead, whose taste in men was always deplorable. You have no idea that I brought you to Maui for any purpose but to collect what you'd promised me, in a somewhat more intimate atmosphere than that of Honolulu. You're even a little insulted at the notion that I might have had an ulterior motive. Okay?"

"In other words, I play very dumb," she said. She hesitated. "Are they… apt to beat me?"

"To a bloody pulp," I said cheerfully. "That should at least keep you from being bored, Duchess. You were complaining of boredom, remember?"

She made a face at me. "It seems like a long time ago. Matt?"

"Yes."

"There's one question I have to ask. If I continue to go along with this, if I do what you tell me-"

"You want to know about the payoff? I don't know what it would take to make it legal, but if you want to write something, I'll be glad to sign it."

A little anger showed in her eyes. "That isn't what I was going to ask, Matt. I don't think about money all the time. I'm a pretty good judge of men-I've only made one bad mistake in my life-and I'm fairly sure that if you can, you'll pay off. I'll gamble on that, without any papers that probably wouldn't mean anything legally, anyway."

I said, "Thanks. Then what's bugging you?"

"I want to know, if I do everything you ask, will I be a traitor to my country? I mean, I still have no proof of who you are."

I looked at her for a moment, but her expression told me nothing. I said, "Make up your mind, Isobel. Either you're a good judge of men or you aren't."

She shook her head. "It isn't that easy, where politics is concerned. I mean, a man may be quite dependable in every other respect, but he'll still do dreadful things if he gets it into his head that he's saving the world or something."

I said, "It's still a stupid damn question and I'm ashamed of you for asking it."

"Why is it stupid?" she demanded. "I think it's fairly important, myself. I'm not the greatest patriot in the world, but just the same-"

"Important, sure," I interrupted, "but look whom you're asking! You're not going to get an answer from me: not an answer you can trust. So all you're really doing is asking me to give your conscience a tranquilizer, so you can save yourself the trouble of looking at me and deciding for yourself whether I'm an immaculate Patrick Henry or a dirty Benedict Arnold. Well, to hell with that, Duchess. It's your conscience. Don't ask me to talk to it. You tell it what it wants to hear."

She said sharply, "You're not being much help!"

"Hell, it's nothing I can help you with, and you know it. Suppose I were to tell you that the fate of the U.S. depends on our efforts, and that if we're successful you'll be a national heroine and get your face on a postage stamp. That's what you want to hear, isn't it? But if I say it, will you believe it? If you do, you're better at fooling yourself than I think you are."

There was a little silence; then she laughed. "You're either a very honest man or a very clever one."

"Can't I be both?" I asked plaintively. Neither of us said anything for a while, and the subject kind of died by default. At last I pointed out the window. "Look, there's Molokai already."

"That's the leper colony, isn't it?"

I said, mechanically, "You're not supposed to call it leprosy these days. It's Hansen's disease. That makes it much more respectable."

We watched the island approach. Down below, I saw a white powerboat smashing through the trade-wind chop at a pretty good clip, judging by the wake. It could be a speedboat belonging to a man called Monk, I reflected, although he was supposed to pick night for the run as a rule. It could have aboard a girl called Jill, and if this had been a TV show she'd have been equipped with a convenient electronic gadget that would have allowed me to track her in my midget sub, if I'd had a midget sub.

Unfortunately, we were dealing with a smart and experienced man, not a TV villain. Asking Jill to plant a tracking device on the Monk would have been equivalent to asking her to commit suicide. He would have thought of all such logical possibilities, and he'd be ready for them all, somehow. 1 wasn't going to beat the Monk with gadgets. With his experience with explosives and detonators, he was a much better gadget man than I was.

The only way I'd trip him up would be by doing something quite untechnical and illogical. I still hadn't figured out just what.