The Liquidator

Two

For all the cover a short distance away, the place where we were didn’t have enough to hide a rabbit. This time it was my turn to do the running, dragging Monica in my wake; somehow she had managed to grab her clothes as I shoved her over the dune, and the knit shirt was streaming out behind her like a flag. Not that it made any difference; the guy in the chopper couldn’t have missed us, anyway.

He made a low pass over us, the wind from the rotors blasting sand up in our faces. Monica stumbled as she tried to cover her eyes; I stopped to help her, looking back, and at that moment the helicopter dropped to the ground a couple of dozen feet ahead of us.

It was time to quit running. I squinted against the sunlight reflected off the swishing blades, moving instinctively to put myself between the girl and the chopper; and it wasn’t just to conceal her nakedness. The near door of the round plastic bubble opened, and a man got out slowly. He was only a silhouette, but as soon as he started to walk toward me, I relaxed.

“Climb into your things, honey,” I muttered to the girl, and waited while David Hawk made a discreet approach. Fortunately for him, Monica was the kind of girl who needed about a second and a half to get dressed, so he didn’t have to avert his eyes any longer than that.

“Well,” he said at last, not quite harrumphing. The chief of AXE not only looks as though he should be preaching hellfire and brimstone to his congregation in a New England village, but he sometimes acts that way too — understandably in the presence of a naked female.

In the pause that followed I put on my own shirt. “What brings you to glorious Ocracoke?” I asked.

“You,” he said bluntly. “Why didn’t you leave word where you were staying here?”

“Because when I left Washington I didn’t know.”

“And when you did find out?”

“For only a couple of days it hardly seemed to matter.”

His flinty eyes flicked from mine to Monica’s, then back to me again. “You know better than that, Carter.”

There wasn’t any arguing with him. My only excuse was that I’d had too many of my brief vacations interrupted like this, but that was no excuse at all. We’re a small organization, as those things go, and when I’m needed I’m needed. Period.

“Sorry,” I said tersely. “Anyway, we were just heading back to D.C. when you... ah... spotted us.”

He grunted. “Mmm. Fortunate for all of us that we did, I suppose. If you’d been anywhere else but this end-of-the-world island I doubt we’d have made contact. But it was worth the attempt, and it worked. You’ll have to send the young lady to wait for you by the car.”

I didn’t ask why, just turned and nodded to Monica. To give her credit, she didn’t pout or protest. She just waved and trotted away.

Hawk didn’t waste time on preliminaries. “We need you in Washington right now, Nick; I won’t go into details until we’re back at the office, but the fact that I came here myself should tell you how important this matter is.”

“I see.” Not that the old man was just a desk commander, but you don’t often see the head of one of the world’s most important intelligence organizations out running errands.

“Does the young lady drive?”

“Yes.”

“Good. She can return the car to Washington then. You’re flying back with me.”

“I can drive and get there by nightfall.”

“Too late. By this evening you’ll be on your way.”

“Where?”

“Later. Get in the helicopter, and we’ll drop you out by your... fortunately conspicuous vehicle.”

I shook my head. “I’ll hike; it’s the least I can do after making the girl do it.”

Hawk gazed at me for a second, sucking on his cold pipe. “Don’t tell me,” he said with a twitch of the lips that served him for a smile. “Are you becoming a gentleman these days?”

There was no point in answering.

Monica took the news decently, though she made it clear she didn’t like the idea of missing the rest of our vacation. “I’ll see you as soon as I can,” I told her, meaning every word of it; girls like Monica are a rare find, especially for a man in my business. I grabbed my luggage, kissed her goodbye, and climbed into the helicopter. She waved once, then took off as if ready to race us all the way to Washington. The way she drove, I wouldn’t have bet against her if it hadn’t been for that long, slow ferry ride.

Hawk didn’t say another word to me until we were in his office at AXE headquarters on Dupont Circle. Behind the front of a worldwide news service lies a complex of sterile little offices, all painted the same depressing shade of jailhouse green and lit by endless rows of pale neon tubing. Hawk has one of the few window offices, but that doesn’t make it any more cheerful; it faces a blank brick wall that’s almost within touching distance.

I sat down in the hard, straight chair across from his plain steel desk. As usual, there were only a few neatly stacked folders on it, a couple of ordinary black telephones, plus the one you can’t see, a red one in a special compartment built into the side of his desk. Like Hawk, the office was strictly for business. No one was ever encouraged to linger and pass the time of day.

“You’re getting jumpy, N3,” the old man remarked.

“What makes you say that?”

“Just because a... let’s say... voyeur decides to take a closer look at the action on top of that dune, you acted as if you were in fear of your life.”

“If you hadn’t checked out my car first, I might have taken you for just another Peeping Tom. But either way, I’m no exhibitionist, so I would have gotten out of there no matter what I thought you were.”

Hawk nodded abruptly, struck a kitchen match and put it to the reeking bowl of his pipe. “When was the last time you sailed a boat, Nick?”

I had to think a moment. “The last time I was down in the Bahamas. Four months ago.”

“What sort?”

“Just one of those little catamarans the hotels rent out.”

“Nothing larger?”

“Not... let me think. Not since last summer. A friend of mine over on the Eastern Shore has a forty-two foot yawl. We spent a few days cruising the Chesapeake in her.”

“Handle the boat yourself?”

“Sure. You know I can sail. I wouldn’t try to skipper a 12-Meter in an America’s Cup race, but I can get by in just about anything one man can normally handle.”

“Yes, it’s in your file. Navigation?”

“That’s in the file too.”

He nodded. “Alex Zenopolis.”

I started to say something about my file again, but then the name penetrated and stopped me like a stone wall. “Alex,” I breathed. “It’s been years since I heard that name.”

“Well, he’s turned up in reports now and then since he defected to the Reds. Evidently worked himself up faily high in their intelligence apparatus.”

“I don’t remember seeing any of those reports.”

“Be grateful you’re in the field so much you’re not required to read every report.”

I was grateful, but wasn’t about to say so. “Too bad I didn’t see them; Alex and I were friends for a while.”

“Yes, I recall.”

“So what about him now?”

“Evidently he wants to come out.”

It was my turn to nod; I didn’t have to ask questions.

“Last night,” Hawk went on, “one of our men posted in Greece along the Albanian border received a hand-carried message purporting to be from Zenopolis. It was promptly passed on here.” Hawk opened the top folder and shoved a flimsy sheet of paper across the desk.

The message was understandably cryptic; all it said was that Alex Zenopolis, formerly of Greek intelligence, would personally contact U.S. agents in Greece within a week or so. Time and place to follow. Then he gave a signal of acknowledgment to be broadcast over a standard frequency at certain times.

I handed it back to the chief. “Do we have any idea where he is?”

“The last we heard, he was serving with some sort of liaison group operating between Yugoslavia and Albania.” Hawk permitted himself a wintry smile. “You can imagine the delicacy of that sort of operation.”

“I don’t remember Alex as being the diplomatic type.”

“No. On the other hand, we probably know less about what goes on inside Albania than we do about Red China.”

“So you think he might have something important to tell us?”

“There’s always that possibility. On the other hand, all he says is that he wants to contact us. Personally.”

“Which means face to face. In Greece.”

“And perhaps he merely wants to return to the fold.”

I shrugged. “All right. Either way, he should have something of interest to tell us.”

“Possibly a great deal.”

“You have anything more to go on than this message?”

“Not really. But I’m rather anxious to receive the next one he sends.”

“And in the meantime?”

“In the meantime you are going to take a crash course in sailing and navigating.”

“I don’t get it.”

Hawk got up from his creaky swivel chair and went to the row of gray steel filing cabinets that are the office’s only adornment. From a drawer he pulled out a rolled map, took it to the burn-scarred conference table behind me. I joined him there.

“Here,” he said, “are the Balkan states. Greece, Albania, Yugoslavia, Bulgaria, and Romania. Now our man, the one who received the message, was posted here.” He pointed to a spot close to where the borders of Yugoslavia, Albania, and Greece all come together. “You’ll note that there’s a large lake here, and all three countries share its shores. In very mountainous country.”

He didn’t have to explain. “Is there much border traffic along there?”

“Surprisingly little, considering the difficulty of guarding the terrain. But such an area would present many opportunities for a skilled and experienced man.”

“What about the messenger boy? Anything on him?”

Hawk shook his head, a little sadly I thought. “That’s a more or less open listening post. Not run by AXE, needless to say. Evidently the messenger knew exactly where it was and... ahhh... merely slipped the note under the door.”

Now I knew he was embarrassed, even if the operation hadn’t been under our control. So I kept quiet and let him go on.

“At any rate, given the nature of the work Zenopolis has been doing, it would be logical to assume he’s somewhere in this region.” He put a blunt, tobacco-stained finger on the lake.

“Don’t tell me I have to sail on that.”

“Not at all. As a matter of fact, if Zenopolis intends to come out in that area, we can’t have anything to do with him. Not there.”

“Why not?”

“Look at the location. In one direction a country as violently opposed to the Western nations as any in the world. Next to it Yugoslavia, cordial toward us these days, but still unquestionably allied with the other side. And Greece. An ally of ours, yes, but our relations under the present government are decidedly strained. And imagine how much those colonels who now rule it would love to get their hands on someone like Zenopolis.”

“I think I see. The only way to get him out fast, once he crosses the border, would be by air. And that would mean a long flight over either Albania or Greece, neither of which would be very anxious to let us get away with the prize.”

“And if the Greeks learn U.S. agents were involved in any way, there could be much worse trouble.”

“Exactly.”

“Which brings us back to the sailing lessons.”

Hawk ran his finger down to the western coast of Greece. “When we establish contact with Zenopolis again, we are going to insist that he break out through Albania as close to the sea as possible. It’s the only way we can afford to get involved with him at this point.”

“What if he does have some kind of vital information for us?”

“Then we may have to change our thinking. Meanwhile, you’re to be prepared to meet him somewhere in this area. You will then transport him across to Taranto, which is on the heel of Italy’s boot.”

“All right, but why me? Any agent could do this job, and I don’t imagine I’m the only one who can navigate a sailboat across... what?” I checked the scale of miles; the map showed a little piece of southeastern Italy. “Maybe seventy-five miles? A hundred at most?” I was beginning to get a little peeved, recalling my embarrassing flight across the sand with the nude Monica in tow.

“Oh, we have one or two agents who are better qualified in that respect than you are. But none of them knows Alex Zenopolis by sight.”

It took a moment for that to sink in. “But look,” I protested, “I haven’t laid eyes on the man in fifteen years. I could pass him on the street and not recognize him.”

“Let’s hope that’s not the case. I was looking at your personnel file earlier today, and in that time your appearance hasn’t changed to any noticeable degree.”

If the old man was trying to flatter me, he couldn’t have picked a better method. I’d been just a kid in my early twenties then, not long out of training, and pretty cocky about my looks and physical condition. In all the years since, I’d kept myself in shape, and as far as the looks were concerned I guess I have one of those faces that just don’t age much. My hair was still thick and dark, a little longer than in those earlier, straight-arrow, Eisenhower days. I weigh ten pounds more than I did then, but I put it on deliberately through a program of weight training, and there’s not an ounce on me I don’t want. If that sounds like bragging, so be it; a man who works hard to stay in condition ought to be a little proud of it.

“Okay,” I agreed with Hawk. “So maybe I will recognize Alex.”

“And even if you don’t, of course, you should be able to establish his identity by talking about old times.”

I wasn’t so sure of that; if the other side was throwing in a ringer, he was bound to be well briefed. But I wasn’t about to argue. “So what’s next, sir?”

Hawk walked back to his desk. “As soon as you pack some clothes you will fly by commercial airliner to Providence. Reservations have been made for you in the name of Daniel McKee. My secretary has the credit cards and other papers to back up the identity.”

“Providence?” My surprise must have been obvious.

Hawk chuckled and started guiding me to the door. “Your final destination is Newport. But in the city you loathe you’ll be met at the airport by a man named Nathaniel Frederick. He’ll brief you further.”

“Is he one of our agents?”

“Not at all. In fact, he’s exactly what he sounds like.”

“What’s that?” I didn’t trust the old man when he was smiling.

“Why, a retired New England schoolteacher, of course.”