The Devastators

chapter NINE

Les disapproved of me. He'd watched Vadya come out of the building with me, a bit unsteadily. She was wearing my raincoat to cover the more spectacular damage, but it couldn't conceal her wrecked hairdo and ruined nylons. It was hard to believe there was an agent around who still believed in a chivalrous double standard, but Les shot me a reproachful glance as I helped her into the Rolls and got in beside her. He was obviously regretting his part in this ungentlemanly affair.

We rode away in silence. After a while I asked, "Have we still got an escort, driver?"

"Yes, sir. They waited up the street, but they made no attempt to interfere in the lady's behalf. They are behind us now."

I glanced questioningly at Vadya. She shook her head to indicate she knew nothing about the car astern. It could even be the truth. She could be playing this as straight as she'd claimed-with a few mental reservations, of course. As for the car behind, the purpose of this open surveillance, and the identity of the shadowers, would probably become apparent sooner or later. In the meantime, I had to let Washington know what was going on.

I said, "Driver, please let me off at a pay phone somewhere near the hotel. Then you can take the lady wherever she wants to go." When the car stopped near a phone booth, I got out and turned to look at Vadya. "If I was wrong," I said, "I'm sorry. But only a little."

She was back in control again, if she'd ever been out of it. She laughed and managed to make her hoarse voice sound quite sexy as she said, "If you come by my room in the morning, darling, I'll give you back your coat. I might even give you breakfast, to show there are no hard feelings."

"It's a date," I said.

She pulled my coat collar closer about her neck. "You can let me off at Claridge's, Sir Leslie," she said, just to let us know that our childish play-acting hadn't fooled her: she'd known who he was all along.

I stepped back and watched them drive away. The little Mini went by as I was entering the phone booth. It was a neutral tan color and there were two men in it. I didn't recognize the driver, and I couldn't see the man in the left-hand seat clearly. The throaty sound of the exhaust made me look more sharply at the car itself, realizing that it wasn't a run-of-the-mill Austin 850, but the souped-up version known as an Austin-Cooper, modified by a race-car manufacturer for British drivers who wanted to make like Stirling Moss but who couldn't afford the price of a Lotus or an Aston-Martin.

Well, it was Les's problem now. London was his town, and he could presumably take care of himself in it. If he'd wanted my advice or help, he'd have asked. I got into the booth, called our local relay man-a guy I'd never met and never expected to meet-and told him to put me through to Washington. A few minutes later I had Mac on the line. I gave him the story fast. After I'd finished, he was silent for several seconds.

"Do you believe her?" he asked at last.

"Vadya? Hell, no," I said. "That is, I don't believe I scared her nearly as badly as she pretended. I mean, that on-the-knees please-kill-me-now routine was pretty corny. On the other hand, she could be telling the truth for reasons of her own. Like she just figured we'd played enough sadistic games for one night, at her expense, and it was time to toss me a bone. Or like she'd wanted to point me in the direction of this comic-strip Dragon Lady character all along, but figured she'd first better take enough of a beating to make it look as if I'd forced the information out of her. Which still leaves the question of whether a Madame Ling really took Winnie, or Vadya just decided to frame her for the job. Do we know Madame Ling?"

"We should." Mac's voice was dry. "I do. And you would, if you'd done the required amount of work in the recognition room."

"Yes, sir," I said. "I confess my negligence, sir. I may have concentrated on the nationalities I expected to have to deal with here in Britain. Besides, I don't have a very good memory for Asiatic names or Asiatic faces, even good-looking female ones. Vadya says this one works out of Peking."

"Yes. That is another reason I assigned Claire to you. There had been some unconfirmed rumors of Chinese involvement, and I thought her experience out there might be useful to you."

"Yes, sir," I said. "In the future, I'd be flattered if you'd share your unconfirmed rumors with me, sir. The British seem to have heard the same rumor, judging by the fact that they apparently hauled Crowe-Barham in from Hong Kong to work on the case. And there's no doubt that the knife-man working with Basil was Oriental, which seems to make a link between Basil and Madame Ling. Do we have any further evidence along those lines? Is there any suggestion, for instance, that when Basil escaped that Moscow firing squad, he headed east?"

"Not that I know of. He was supposed to be dead, remember. But it's certainly a possibility, and it would explain how he managed to drop out of sight so completely for so long. I will check our Far Eastern sources."

I said, "Vadya says Ling, female, is one of Peking's top agents, a very handsome, intelligent, and nasty wench of indeterminate age, unprintable character, and no scruples at all. That's just one woman's opinion of another, of course. The point is that Madame Ling seems to be fairly high-echelon material, maybe high enough to be given this whole McRow show to run, with Basil hired as a kind of field assistant. And if we make the wild assumption that Vadya was telling the truth for once in her life, these are the people who have Winnie."

Mac said, "Let us hope so. With a little luck, that could work out very well. At least it would put one of you in the enemy camp, so to speak."

Sometimes he seems a bit cold-blooded even for this business. "Sure, it's great, sir," I said sourly. "Always assuming, of course, that Winnie's still alive and doesn't wind up full of super-streptococci or something before I can find her and give her a hand. I haven't got a lead worth mentioning unless…" I stopped, frowning.

"Unless what, Eric?"

"Unless they're still interested in grabbing me, too. If so, their obvious move is to use Winnie as bait, particularly if they're inclined to believe our marriage is genuine. The note they left hints at some such intention. I mean, it warns me not to try to find her. Now, they know damn well I'm going to try to find her-unless I have some hope of making a deal for her. I think that's what they're hinting at here. What they're saying is, in effect: don't call us, we'll call you."

"Maybe, but you could be reading too much into that note, Eric. And even if you aren't, it could be merely a way of trying to keep you quiet while they get far away with Claire. But if they should get in touch with you, what do you propose to do?"

I said, "Why, in that case, sir, my anxiety for my bride will of course be so great that I will eagerly obey any instructions given me, forgetting the most elementary precautions. I'll be caught with my pants down. It will be most humiliating, for an operative of my age and experience. That will put two of us in the enemy camp. Between us, we ought to get the job done somehow."

He hesitated briefly. "It's a risky plan, with both of you in their hands. And it depends entirely on their making contact with you. We can't wait too long for that. There are indications that Dr. McRow considers his work almost finished. Various friendly governments have reported feelers from underground sources. There have been hints of demands soon to be made-financial demands-coupled with veiled threats."

"We've got it from the other side of the fence, too, sir," I said. "Vadya intimated that her government was expecting some kind of international blackmail. Do we have any idea of just what we're all being threatened with?"

"The Black Death has now apparently been mentioned officially. You will recall that's what killed Buchanan, in a super-virulent form. In the fourteenth century, I am told, the old-fashioned brand wiped out twenty-five per cent of the population of Europe in a relatively short time."

"Well, I guess we've still got enough rats and fleas to pass the new version around, if somebody gets it started," I said.

"Precisely," Mac said. "Which brings us to Vadya's suggestion that our two nations cooperate for the good of humanity. Do you think there is any possibility that she could be sincere?"

"Vadya could never he sincere, she doesn't know how," I said. "But I think she means it up to a point, sir. I think her people are just as much in the dark as we are, but they'd like to know for sure how much that is, hence the frank and earnest approach. Anything they learn from us, under the circumstances, is gravy. Naturally, the minute Vadya and I, working together, turn up a good lead, she'll put a knife in my back, a bullet in my head, or a Mickey in my drink, and proceed, alone, to carry out her instructions concerning McRow, whatever they really are. Assuming I'm silly enough to let her."

"Precisely," Mac said. "Well, with that understanding, if she's still willing after tonight's experience at your hands, you have permission to make whatever deals with her you see fit, and keep them or not as you see fit."

I said, "She'll he willing. She's a pro, sir. She's not going to hold a little strangulation against me, any more than I hold a little toasting against her. She's already invited me to breakfast in her room."

"Very well. Of course you will keep in mind that the lady does not have to survive after she ceases to be useful to us. As for Madame Ling, and also Basil, I'll try to have some more information when you call in next."

"Yes, sir," I said. "Of course, that could be quite a while, if somebody does get in touch with me about my vanished bride. Well. I'd better get back to the hotel and start chewing my fingernails in public."

"Don't wait too long for a contact. If you haven't been approached by, say, noon tomorrow, you had better leave the inside angles to Claire, and head for Scotland and see if you can't turn up something around Ullapool. If they don't intend using her to trap you, we can hope they'll transport her up there. Dr. McRow seems to frown on the ordinary methods of homicide. He apparently prefers to have his enemies taken alive, so he can use them for experimental purposes."

I said, "I'm sure that makes Winnie feel real great, wherever she is."

I walked back to Claridge's. It was raining a little, the pavements were wet and shiny, and everybody was still driving on the wrong side of the street. You get used to it eventually, but I hadn't yet. I was pretty certain that nobody followed me, which was a little discouraging. I would have preferred some sign of active interest. Well, maybe they figured they knew where to find me when they wanted me.

Reaching the hotel, I climbed the stairs and let myself into the room. I must have had some kind of foolish hope that Winnie might have returned in my absence, because it was a disappointment to find the place as empty as when I'd left it. I tossed my hat on a chair, tossed the black belt back in the drawer where I'd found it, and was about to head back downstairs to drown my sorrows where people could see me, when the phone began to ring. I grabbed it quickly.

"Mr. Helm?"

"This is Mr. Helm," I said.

"There is a lady here to see you, sir," said the voice of the switchboard girl. "She is waiting in the lounge. A Miss Glenmore, from America."

It took me a while to remember where I'd heard the name, even though it was, in a sense, my own.