Hood of Death (19 page)

He explored his below-decks prison. The schooner appeared to have been built in a Dutch or Baltic yard. She was well put together. Metal was in metric measurements. The engines were German diesels. At sea, he thought, she combines the ruggedness of a Gloucester fisherman with extra speed and comfort. Some of these vessels were designed with a loading hatch near the stores and engine rooms. He explored midships, behind the watertight bulkhead. He found two small cabins which would serve two of the sailors and just aft of them he discovered the loading hatch in the side, beautifully fitted and secured with six big metal dogs.

He went back and bolted the engine-room hatch. So much for that. He crept forward along the companionway into the main saloon. A pistol tilted in his general direction was fired twice. Swiftly he returned to the side-hatch, unfastened the dogs and slowly swung out the metal door.

If they were putting the little dory on this side, or if one of the men topside was an engineer with a head on his shoulders and they had put a watch on the side-hatch already, it would mean that he was still trapped. He looked out. There was nothing visible but dark purple water and the glow of lights from above. All the activity sounded from the launch at the stern. He could see the tip of its bow. They had lowered it.

Nick reached up, grabbed the gunwale, then the rail, and slid onto the deck like a water moccasin crawling onto a log. He snaked his way aft Hans Geist helped Pong-Pong Lily over the side and down a ladder. He said to someone Nick could not see, "Go out fifty feet and circle."

Nick felt grudging admiration for the big German, He was putting his girl friend in a safe place in case Nick opened the seacocks or the schooner was blown up. He wondered who they thought he was. He crawled up on the deckhouse and stretched out between the dory and two U-rafts.

Geist came back along the deck, passing ten feet from Nick. He said something to whoever was watching the engine-room hatch and then disappeared in the direction of the main hatch. The guy had guts. He was going down into the ship to flush out the interloper. Surprise!

Nick went noiselessly aft on bare feet. The two Chinese sailors he had tied up were now untied and watching the hatch like cats at a mousehole. Rather than risk more blows on Wulhelmina's barrel, Nick took a belaying pin out of its hole. The two went down like lead soldiers brushed by a child's hand.

Nick raced forward, came up behind a man searching the water and guarding the foredeck. Nick paused as the man lay down on the deck under the belaying pin's tap without making a sound. This luck wouldn't last. Nick cautioned himself — went aft carefully, inspecting every cross-passage and deckhouse corner. The deck was empty. The remaining three men were working their way through the interior of the ship with Geist.

Nick realized he hadn't heard the launch's engine. He peeked over the taffrail. The launch had drifted thirty feet from the larger ship. A short sailor was cursing and fussing with the engine, watched by Pong-Pong. Nick crouched with the big pin in one hand and Wilhelmina in the other. Who had that Tommy gun now?

"Hey!" A voice behind him shouted. Feet thundered in the companion way.

Blam! A pistol roared and he was sure he heard the whir-r-r of the bullet as he went headfirst into the water. He dropped the pin and returned Wilhelmina to its holster and swam deep and out, toward the launch. He heard and felt the blasts and liquid
kerchungs
as slugs peppered the sea above him. He felt strangely safe and protected as he swam deep and then eased upward, searching for the bottom of the small boat.

He missed it, estimated that he was fifty feet out and surfaced as lightly as a frog peeping out of a pond. Outlined against the schooner's lights three men stood on the stern searching the water. He identified Geist by his giant size. The sailor in the launch was standing up, looking toward the larger craft. Then he swiveled, peering into the night, and his gaze stopped on Nick. He reached toward his waist. Nick realized he couldn't reach the boat before the man would be able to drill him four times. Wilhelmina came up, leveled — and the sailor went backward at the sound of its blast. The Tommy gun chattered wildly. Nick ducked under and put the launch between himself and the men on the schooner.

He swam to the launch — and looked sudden death right in the face. Pong Pong thrust a small automatic almost into his teeth as he grabbed the gunwale to pull himself up. She was muttering and pulling wildly on the gun with both hands. He grabbed for the weapon, missed and fell back. He was looking right into her lovely, angry face.

I've had it,
he thought, she'll find the safety in an instant or she must know enough to cock it if the chamber is empty.

The Tommy gun rattled. Pong-Pong froze and then toppled forward onto Nick, striking him a glancing blow as she fell into the water. Hans Geist roared, "Stop that!" Followed by a stream of German oaths.

The night was suddenly very still.

Nick slid down in the water, keeping the launch between himself and the schooner. Hans called, a worried, almost plaintive appeal, "Pong-Pong?"

Silence. "Pong-Pong!"

Nick swam to the bow of the launch, reached up and got hold of a line. He secured the line around his waist and slowly began to tow the launch, stroking with all his great power against its dead weight. It swung slowly stern on to the schooner and followed him like a waterlogged snail.

"He's towing the launch," Hans yelled. "There..."

Nick surface dived as the spray gun chattered, came back up carefully, concealed by the launch. The gun rattled again, chewing at the stern of the small boat, flecking the water on both sides of Nick.

He towed the launch away into the night. Climbed in and started his beeper beacon — in hope — and after five minutes' swift work got the engine started.

The launch was slow, built for heavy work and rough seas, not speed. Nick plugged the five holes he could reach and bailed occasionally when water rose in her. A clear and brilliant dawn arose as he rounded the headland into the Patapsco River. Hawk, piloting a Bell helicopter, reached him as he headed in to a marina at Riviera Beach. They exchanged waves. Forty minutes later he had given the launch into the care of a surprised attendant and joined Hawk who had landed in the deserted parking lot. Hawk said, "It's a marvelous morning for a boat ride."

"All right, I'll ask," Nick said. "How did you find me?"

"Did you use Stuart's latest beeper? The signal was excellent."

"Yes. The thing is effective. Especially across water I suppose. But you don't go flying around every morning."

Hawk took out two of his strong cigars, gave one to Nick. "Once in awhile you meet a very smart citizen. You met one. Named Boyd. Ex-Navy Warrant Officer. He called Navy. Navy called F.B.I. They called me. I phoned Boyd and he described Jerry Deming, the oil man who wanted dock space. I thought I ought to buzz around in case you wanted to see me."

"And Boyd mentioned the mysterious cruiser that sails from the Chu Dai Marina, eh?"

"Well, yes," Hawk admitted cheerfully. "I couldn't see you missing a chance to sail in her."

"It was some voyage. They'll be cleaning up the wreckage for a long time. We went out..."

He described the events in exact detail Hawk refueled at Mountain Road Airport and they soared through the bright morning toward AXE's hangars above Annapolis. When Nick finished talking Hawk asked, "Any ideas, Nicholas?"

"Ill try one. The Chicoms want more oil. Top quality and now. They can buy all they want usually, but that's not like having Saudico or one of the others ready to load them as fast as they send tankers. Maybe that thin Chinese is a key. Say he set up a Washington organization using men like Judas and Geist who are experts at ruthless pressure. They've got the girls for information agents and to reward men who go for it. Once the news of the hood of death gets around, a man hasn't much choice. Fun and games or a quick death, and they aren't fooling."

"You are on target, Nick. Adam Read of Saudico has been told to load Chinese tankers at the Gulf or else."

"We have enough weight there to stop that."

"Yes, although some of the Arabs are acting rebellious. However we call the turns there. But that doesn't help Adam Read when he is told to sell or die."

"He's impressed?"

"He's impressed. They explained carefully. He knows about Tyson and although he's no coward you can't blame him for getting the wind up about an outfit that kills almost as an example."

"Have we got enough to close in?"

"Where is Judas? And Chick Soong and Geist? They will tell him that even if the men we know vanish others will get him."

"Orders?" Nick asked softly.

Hawk talked precisely for about five minutes.

An AXE chauffeur dropped Jerry Deming, clothed in borrowed mechanic's overalls, near his apartment at eleven. He wrote notes to three girls —
and then there were four.
And another —
and then there were three.
He dispatched the first set by special delivery and mailed the second group regular mail. Bill Rohde and Barney Manoon were to pick up any two of the girls except Ruth, during the day and evening, depending on opportunity.

Nick turned in and slept for eight hours. The telephone awakened him at dusk. He put on the scrambler. Hawk said, "We have Suzi and Anne. I hope they had a chance to worry each other."

"Sonya last?"

"We haven't had a chance at her but she's watched. Well get her tomorrow. But no sign of Geist or Soong or Judas. The schooner is back at a bay dock. Ostensibly belongs to a Taiwanese. British citizen. Leaving for Europe next week."

"Continue as ordered?"

"Yes. Good luck."

Nick wrote one more note —
and then there was one.
He mailed it to Ruth Moto.

Just before noon the next day he called her, reaching her after being transferred to Akito's office. She sounded tense as she refused his cheery invitation to lunch. "I'm — terribly busy, Jerry. Please call me again."

"It's not all pleasure," he said, "although you're the girl in Washington I'd most like to have lunch with. I've decided to chuck my job. There must be a way to make money faster and easier. Your Dad still interested?"

There was a pause. She said, "Please wait" When she came back on the phone she still sounded worried, almost scared. "He wants to see you. In a day or two."

"Well — I've got a couple of other angles, Ruth. Don't forget, I know where to get oil. And how to buy it Without limit I had the feeling he might be interested."

A long pause. At last she came back. "In that case — can you meet us for cocktails about five?"

"I'm looking for a job, honey. Ill meet you any time, anywhere."

"At Remarco's. Know it?"

"Sure. I'll be there."

When Nick, debonair in Italian-tailored gray sharkskin and Guards' tie, met Ruth at Remarco's she was alone. Vinci, the rugged partner who acts as greeter, took him to her in one of the many small alcoves of the discreet, popular rendezvous. She looked worried.

Nick gave her a big smile, slid in beside her and added a hug. She was rigid. "Hello, Ruthie. I've missed you. Ready for more adventures tonight?"

He felt her shudder. "Hi... Jerry. It's good to see you." She took a sip of water. "No... I'm... tired."

"Oh-h..." He raised a finger. "I know the medicine." He spoke to the waiter. 'Two martinis. Regular. The way Mr. Martini invented them."

Ruth fumbled out a cigarette. Nick slid one from the pack, held lights. "Daddy couldn't make it. We... we've had some important business come up."

"Problems?"

"Yes. Unexpected."

He tilted his eyes at her. She was a gorgeous dish! A king-size sweet imported from Norway and materials handcrafted on the way in Japan. He chuckled. She looked at him. "What?"

"I was just thinking how beautiful you are." He spoke slowly and softly. "Lately I've been watching girls — to see if there is just one with your wonderful body and exotic coloring. Nope. Not a one. You know you could be anything you wanted to, I believe. Model. Movie or TV actress. You actually look like what the world's future woman may look like. The best of East and West."

She colored a little. He thought,
Nothing like a string of warm compliments to get a woman's mind off troubles.

"Thank you. You're quite a man yourself, Jerry. Daddy is really interested. He wants you to come and see him tomorrow."

"Oh." Nick donned a look of severe disappointment.

"Don't look so sad. He's
really
got an idea for you, I think."

I'll bet he has, Nick meditated. I wonder if he's really her father. And has he guessed something about Jerry Deming?

The martinis arrived. Nick continued a gentle conversation of sincere flattery and great possibilities for Ruth. He ordered two more drinks. Then two more. She protested — but she drank. Her stiffness retreated. She chuckled at his jokes. Time flowed by and they picked at a pair of Remarco's magnificent club steaks. They had brandy and coffee. They danced. Easing the lovely body around the floor Nick thought, /
don't know just how she feels now but my spirits are up.
He pulled her against him.
She's relaxed.
Eyes followed them. They made a striking couple.

Nick peeked at his watch. 9:52. Now, he thought, there are several ways to work this. If I do it the way I'll enjoy it most Hawk will figure it out and make one of his sardonic comments. Ruth's long, warm flank was pressed against his, under the table her slim fingers traced exciting patterns on his palm. My way, he decided. Hawk enjoys needling me anyway.

They entered "Jerry Deming's"' apartment at 10:46. Drank scotch and looked at the river lights while Billy Faire's music provided background. He told her how easily he could fall in love with a girl so lovely, so exotic, so intriguing. Playfulness progressed to passion, and he noted it was just midnight when he hung up her gown and his suit "to keep them neat."