The Betrayers

Chapter Eighteen

AT LEAST THAT WAS the way it seemed out there in the foothills. When I got to Lahaina, I discovered that there were actually quite a few people still alive on the island; in fact, the streets were full of them. At the edge of town I got off the main thoroughfare to park the jeep, figuring that it was probably known and might attract attention, driven by a stranger. At that, it was better than the rental sedan, full of blood and bullet holes. Besides, it had a plain old foot-powered brake and a real gearbox, the kind you stirred with a big stick. I could drive it fine.

I walked into town and found a phone booth down by the dock and stood inside watching the colorful, sunburned people, local and transient, circulating through the joint on the corner, a frame hotel, restaurant, and bar that seemed to be a relic of the old whaling days when the whole Pacific came to this port to get liquored and laid. I was waiting for an overseas connection. Normally I'd have called our Honolulu relay and he'd have put me straight through, but I had to assume that the whole Hawaii apparatus was in Monk's hands, so I was calling direct. It took a while before I heard the voice of the girl in Washington. Then Mac came on.

"Eric here," I said. "Uncover."

This meant that I was through playing games and we didn't have to waste time pretending to be what we weren't.

"Very well, Eric. Proceed."

"The background first, sir."

I gave it to him fast, everything that had happened to date. As I talked, I watched a piratical character in dirty white pants and a striped jersey who'd come wandering out on the veranda of the old hotel and seemed to be very carefully not looking in my direction. All he needed was a wooden leg and a patch over one eye.

"There you have it, sir," I finished. "If you really want to keep all this quiet, as you once intimated, you'd better get a cleanup squad here from somewhere before daybreak. Let's hope nobody uses that road for a lover's lane tonight. Tell them to turn at the tourist-bureau sign pointing to some petroglyphs up the canyon. The Olowalu Petroglyphs. In case you're wondering, a petroglyph is an inscription or picture story carved on rock. We've got some good ones back home in New Mexico."

"Indeed? I wasn't really wondering, Eric. Proceed."

"Yes, sir. They should have no trouble finding the car and its contents where I told you. The other body is back down the road about two hundred yards and off to the south in the cane about thirty yards. The jeep tracks will lead them there. Tell them to look around for Hanohano's gun; I didn't take time to find it. Incidentally, how does it happen these Pacific people are getting the new stainless steel model while we've got to make do with the old blue job that rusts on sight?"

Mac said, "At the rate you reportedly go through guns, Eric, they don't have time to rust, so what difference does it make? Hold on while I get some people moving."

Waiting, I glanced toward the veranda, but the pirate in the striped jersey had disappeared. Some pretty girls in muu-muus were talking to some handsome young men in the long, baggy swim trunks that seem to be fashionable nowadays, a change from the glorified jockstraps of a few years back. The men reminded me of Rog, which was nothing in their favor.

"They'll be on Maui by midnight," Mac's voice said in my ear. I made note of the fact that he must have had some trustworthy people standing by somewhere in the Islands, or he could not have hoped to get them here so soon. He confirmed this by saying, "What is your plan, Eric? Will you need help?"

I said, "The only help I'll need, where I'm going, is already there-or it isn't. As for my plan, it's essentially the old Trojan Horse routine: get yourself hauled inside the enemy citadel somehow and hope for the best. If Jill has made it, it should work out, with a little luck. If she hasn't…"

"Precisely," Mac said. "You are gambling three times, Eric. You are gambling that this place, K, is actually on Molokai. Also, you are gambling, I gather, that if you get yourself captured near enough to it, you will be taken inside alive instead of simply being killed-" I said, "Of course, if I can locate the hideout without being spotted and slip into it unseen, I'll do it. But those are two big ifs."

Mac went on as if I hadn't spoken, "And finally you are gambling that if you are brought into the place, the girl will be there and in a position to help you."

"My luck's been running pretty good so far tonight, sir," I said. "I'm just going to have to take the chance that Jill gave me the right general location and that Monk will react to my presence the way I expect. I mean, he's hated me for a long time, sir. And you can't gloat over a dead enemy like you can over a live one. It isn't nearly as much fun."

"Very well, but you are dealing with a man who's acquainted with all our techniques and equipment, a man who's even been on assignment with you and knows the way you work. As his prisoner, you aren't likely to outwit him without help. If the girl is not there, or if she fails you-" He was silent for a little. "Perhaps it would be better if you leave her to do what she can there, while you try to pinpoint the location cautiously, after which you call up reinforcements."

"How? I mean, hell, we could call in the whole U.S. Navy and have them search all the Islands, and do you think Monk hasn't thought of that? They'd eventually find where he'd been, but they'd never find him. One man he'll maybe let come in close, particularly if that man is yours truly. He knows you almost invariably work me more or less alone. And he's got a score to pay, or thinks he has. But the minute signals start flying and it begins to look like a group operation he'll be long gone. And what could you tell the Navy anyway, sir? That one of our men has been acting a bit funny, and we think he's up to something kind of big, but we don't know what it is? But we'd like to have them turn out the Fleet and muster the Marines just the same. Hell, they'd laugh in your face, sir. Besides, he'll have arranged to be notified of any unusual naval activity, you can bet on that."

"The Navy was not my suggestion, Eric. Of course, I have considered it, but as you say, persuading them to take appropriate action under adequate security would be very difficult since we really don't know what we're up against." He paused. "You still have no idea what Monk's intentions are?"

"No, sir. He seems to be going in all directions at once. On the one hand, we've got his tame peace-in-Asia front; and on the other, we have the two mysterious specialists from Peking with whatever they brought in their luggage. I can't imagine what technical project it could be that would have Monk asking help of a bunch of Chinese. Explosives of some kind would be the logical answer, but he's pretty competent along those lines himself. Of course if it's something real big and nasty and nuclear, he might not have adequate facilities-"

"That's mere guesswork," Mac said. "And I can't see the Chinese, with their limited nuclear capacity, turning any material of that nature over to an American agent, even a turncoat one."

"I hope you're right," I said. "But what it amounts to is that we simply don't know which way he's going to jump. We just know he'll jump soon. After all, he shut up the Honolulu place with a dead man on the floor, and he knows as well as anybody that there's a limit to how long a body can lie around without getting itself discovered. Incidentally, I should have had you tell the boys to take care of that one, too, when they get a chance."

"I did tell them," Mac said.

"Yes, sir," I said. "We can assume, therefore, that Monk intends to act within, say, the next forty-eight hours. Are you still in official contact?"

"The routine Pacific reports are still coming through on schedule."

"Sure. He wouldn't alert you by cutting them off. But I bet you can't reach him personally."

"I haven't tried. It seemed best to leave him alone." Mac hesitated. "You are counting heavily on this girl, Eric. You realize that, of course."

"No, sir," I said. "On the contrary, I am counting on her very lightly. That's just the point."

"What do you mean?"

I said, "Hell, I don't like to stick my neck out any better than the next man. If I knew for sure she'd got there, and if I thought she could handle it alone, I'd be strongly tempted to leave her to it. Putting myself in Monk's hands isn't something I really look forward to, sir. But the fact is, our Jill is a fairly weak reed. In spite of my final instructions, I'm willing to bet she won't do the job without me, even if it's right there to be done and she's right there to do it. She's a nice girl, and her intentions are swell, and she looks like a brave young goddess, but there's something strangely lacking in the fortitude department, if you know what I mean. Look at the way she tried to pin you down with that no-risk agreement. Look at the way I had to shame her into cooperating at all. She's just a college kid playing secret agent; she won't act without somebody right there to hold her hand. Even then, all I'm really hoping for is that she'll have guts enough to bring a knife when the time comes to cut the ropes."

"I see." Mac was silent, thousands of miles away. I could visualize him frowning. "That makes the odds still heavier against you."

I said, "However, there's one factor I neglected to mention."

"What's that?"

"I promised her I'd come if I could possibly make it." He made some kind of sound. It sounded like a snort. Apparently he thought no more of my promises to Jill than he did of his own. Well, honor isn't taken very seriously in our line of work. I said, "Yes, sir. I will give your regards to the Monk, sir, if the opportunity arises. Eric, signing off."

Leaving the booth, I saw my skulking pirate lounging in the doorway of the saloon. He resolutely paid no attention to me as I went into the place and got the barman to steer me to a young fellow who, for a fairly substantial consideration, was willing to take a lady and a gentleman for a cozy midnight boat ride. Having made the arrangements, I walked back to the jeep, discreetly shadowed by the gent in the striped jersey, but he made no attempt to get a car and follow me further. Apparently his jurisdiction ended at the Lahaina city limits, and now all he wanted was a phone from which to report to Pressman that I'd run my errands and was on my way home.

I glanced at my watch when I reached the hotel and was surprised at how early it was. Men had died and plans had been laid upon which might depend the fate of nations, but it was only a little past nine o'clock. I looked myself over for dirt or bloodstains that would make me conspicuous inside. I made sure I'd got my belt back through all the loops. I took out my gun. I'd got it back from Rog, who'd never fired it, which was just as well, since it was still loaded with more-or-less blanks.

I'd debated taking Francis' gun, too, but I'd decided that I was better off with just a single gun that could be fixed not to shoot. After all, I still had to deal with the lady who'd caused me to rig it that way in the first place-but first there were some details to take care of. I loaded the weapon with real ammo and went in to take care of them.