The Second Murray Leinster Megapack (9 page)

He was busily tapping out on his knee the briefest possible account of what he had learned at Ribiera’s
fazenda
up country.

“One chance for me,” he tapped off at the end. “If I can kidnap Ribiera I can make him talk. Somehow. He has big amphibian plane kept fueled and ready for long trip. I think he is back in Rio to direct hunt for me. Paula kidnapped. My job finished. On my own now.”

The man with thick spectacles did not nod. He seemed to be looking idly at his paper, but it was folded at an article very discreetly phrased, beneath a photograph of Senhor Teixeira Canalejas, Minister of War, who had very unfortunately been found dead that morning. He had been depressed, of late, but there were certain circumstances which made it as yet impossible to determine whether he had killed himself or was the victim of an assassin.

“Getting set for me,” tapped Bell grimly on his knee. “Ribiera told me too much.”

The man with thick spectacles yawned and turned the paper over. Under a smaller headline—which would only find a place on a Brazilian sheet—“A Regrettable Incident”—an item of more direct importance was printed. It told of an unnamed Senhor from the United States of the North America, who as the guest of a widely known Brazilian gentleman had behaved most boorishly, had stolen an airplane from his host and broken it to bits on landing unskilfully, and had vanished with priceless heirlooms belonging to his host. It read, virtuously:

No names are mentioned because the American Senhor has been widely introduced in Rio society as a person with an official status in Washington. It is understood that an inquiry is to be made of the Ambassador as to the status of the young man, before any action is taken by the police. It is to be expected, however, that he will at least be requested to leave the country.

Bell managed the barest flicker of a smile. Arrest, of course. Detention, most courteously arranged, while the Ambassador was communicated with. And Ribiera.

“
Give me dismiss
,” he tapped on his knee.

The gentleman in the thick spectacles ran his finger thoughtfully about the edge of his collar. In the Trade that is a signal of many varied meanings. A hand across the throat in any fashion means, “Clear out, your job is finished,” “Save your skin as best you can,” and “Get away without trying to help me,” according to circumstances. In this case it relieved Bell of all future responsibility.

He yawned, tapping his lips with the back of his hand, signaled for a stop of the car, and got out. Five minutes later he had signaled a taxicab and given Ribiera’s address. In six minutes he was being whirled toward the one house in all Rio de Janeiro from which his chance of a safe departure was slightest. In little more than half an hour he had dismissed the cab and was gazing placidly into the startled eyes of the doorman. The doorman, like all of Rio where Ribiera was known and feared, knew that Bell was being hunted.

Bell handed over his card with an inscrutable air.

“The Senhor Ribiera,” he said drily, “returned to the city last night. Present my card and say that I would like to speak to him.”

The doorman ushered him inside and summoned the major-domo, still blinking his amazement. And the major-domo blinked again. But Bell followed with the air of an habitué, as he was again ushered into the luxurious salon in which he had once been offered a drugged drink.

Again he sank down in a softly padded chair and surveyed the pictures and the minor objects of decadent art about him. Again he lighted a cigarette with every appearance of ease, and again had the impression of eyes upon him. The major-domo appeared, somewhat agitated.

“The Senhor Ribiera,” he said harshly, “will see you only if you are not armed. He requires your word of honor.”

Bell smiled lazily.

“I’ll do better than that,” he said languidly. “I haven’t had time to buy a revolver. But the automatic he had put out of commission is in my pocket. Present it to him with my compliments.”

He handed over the weapon, butt first. The major-domo blinked, and took it. Bell sat down and smiled widely. He had been expected to be uproarious, to attempt to force the major-domo to lead him to Ribiera. And, of course, he would have been led past a perfectly planned ambush for his capture—but he might have killed the major-domo. Which would not disturb Ribiera, but had disturbed the servant.

Bell smoked comfortably. And suddenly hangings parted, and Ribiera came into the room. He smiled nervously, and then, as Bell blew a puff of smoke at him and nodded casually, he scowled.

“I came,” said Bell deliberately, “to make a bargain. Frankly, I do not like to break my word. I was under obligations to deliver a package from Senhor Canalejas to a certain messenger who will take it to my government. I have done it. But I am not, Senhor Ribiera, a member of the Secret Service. I am entirely a free agent now, and I am prepared to consider your proposals, which I could not in honor do before.”

He smiled pleasantly. Effrontery, properly managed, is one of the most valuable of all qualities. Especially in dealing with people who themselves are arrogant when they dare.

Ribiera purpled with rage, and then controlled it.

“Ah!” he rumbled. “You are prepared to consider my proposals. There are no proposals. The Master may be amused at your cleverness in escaping. I do not know. I do know that I am ordered to make you my slave and send you to The Master. That, I shall do.”

“Perhaps,” said Bell blandly: “but I can go without food and drink for several days, which will delay the process. And while I cannot honorably tell you how to stop the man bearing Senhor Canalejas’ package to my government, still… If I willingly accepted a dose of
yagué
in token of my loyalty to The Master.…”

Ribiera’s good humor returned. He chuckled.

“You actually mean,” he said jovially, “that you think you were given some of The Master’s little compound, and that you wish to make terms before your hands begin to writhe at the ends of your wrists. Is not that your reason?”

Bell’s eyes flickered. He had been horribly afraid of just that. But Ribiera’s amusement was reassuring.

“Perhaps,” said Bell. “Perhaps I am.”

Ribiera sat down and stretched his fat legs in front of him. He surveyed Bell with an obscene, horrible amusement.

“Ah, Senhor,” he chuckled, “some day we will laugh together over this! You yet hope, and do not yet know how much better it will be for you if you cease to hope, and cultivate desires! The Master is pleased with you. You have just those qualities he knows are necessary in dealing with your nation. He is not angry with you. It is his intention to use you to extend his—ah—influence among the officials of your nation. You know, of course, that in but a little more time I will hold all Brazil—as I now hold this city—in the hollow of my hand. Four of the republics of this continent are already completely under the control of The Master’s deputies, and of the rest, Brazil is not the most nearly subdued. A year or two, and The Master will become Emperor, and his deputies viceroys. And it is his whim to give you the opportunity of becoming the first deputy and the first viceroy of North America. And you come to me and offer—you, Senhor!—to make terms! I believe even The Master will laugh when he hears of it.”

“But,” said Bell practically, “do you accept my terms?”

Ribiera chuckled again.

“What are they, Senhor?”

“That you release the daughter of the Senhor Canalejas and pledge your word of honor that she will not be enslaved.”

* * * *

Ribiera’s word of honor, of course, would be worth rather less than the breath that was used to give it. But his reception of the proposal would be informative.

He chuckled again.

“No, Senhor. I do not accept. But I will promise you as a favor, because my uncle The Master admires you, that within a few weeks you shall enjoy her charms. I do not,” he added with amused candor, “find that any one woman diverts me for a very long time.”

“Oh,” said Bell, very quietly.

He sat still for an instant, and then shrugged, and looked about as if for an ash tray in which to knock the ashes from his cigarette. He stood up, carrying the tube of tobacco gingerly, and moved toward one by Ribiera’s elbow. He knocked off the ash, and crushed out the tiny coal. He fumbled in his pockets.

The next instant Ribiera choked with terror.

“Let me explain,” said Bell softly. “I did not give your major-domo my word that I was unarmed. I merely gave him a weapon. I got these from two policemen who tried to arrest me an hour or so ago. And I also remind you, Senhor, that if the armed men you have posted to prevent my escape try to shoot me, that the inevitable contraction of my muscles will send two bullets into your heart—even if I am dead. I am a dead man, Senhor, if you give the word, but so are you if you give it.”

Ribiera gasped. His eyes rolled in his head.

“Send for her,” said Bell very gently. “Send for her, Senhor. I estimate that she has been in this house for less than half an hour. Have her brought here at once, and if she has been harmed the three of us will perish very promptly, and half of Rio will go mad after our death.”

And the muzzles of two revolvers bored into the fat flesh of Ribiera’s body, and a gasp that was almost a wail of terror came from the watchers—armed watchers—who dared not kill the man they had been posted to guard Ribiera against.

Ribiera lifted his hand and croaked an order.

CHAPTER VI

In this room the electric lights were necessary at all times. And it occurred to Bell irrelevantly that perhaps there were no windows because there might be sometimes rather noisy scenes within these walls. And windows will convey the sound of screaming to the outside air, while solid walls will not.

He stood alert and grim, with his revolvers pressing into Ribiera’s flabby flesh. His fingers were tensed upon the triggers. If he killed Ribiera, he would be killed. Of course. And men and women he had known and liked might be doomed to the most horrible of fates by Ribiera’s death. Yet even the death or madness of many men was preferable to the success of the conspiracy in which Ribiera seemed to figure largely.

Ribiera looked up at him with the eyes of a terrified snake. There was a little stirring at the door.

“Your friends,” said Bell softly, “had better not come close.”

Ribiera gasped an order. The stirrings stopped. Paula came slowly into the room quite alone. She smiled queerly at Bell.

“I believed that you would come,” she said quietly. “And yet I do not know that we can escape.”

“We’re going to try,” said Bell grimly. To Ribiera he added curtly, “You’d better order the path cleared to the door, and have one of your cars brought around.”

Ribiera croaked a repetition of the command.

“Now stand up—slowly,” said Bell evenly. “Very slowly. I don’t want to die, Ribiera, so I don’t want to kill you. But I haven’t much hope of escape, so I shan’t hesitate very long about doing it. And I’ve got these guns’ hammers trembling at full cock. If I get a bullet through my head, they’ll go off just the same and kill you.”

Ribiera got up. Slowly. His face was a pasty gray.

“Your major-domo,” Bell told him matter-of-factly, “will go before us and open every door on both sides of the way to the street. Paula”—he used her given name without thought, or without realizing it—“Paula will go and look into each door. If she as much as looks frightened, I fire, and try to fight the rest of the way clear. Understand? I’m going to get down to a boat I have ready in the harbor if I have to kill you and every living soul in the house!”

There was no boat in the harbor, naturally. But the major-domo moved hesitantly across the room, looking at his master for orders. For Ribiera to die meant death or madness to his slaves. The major-domo’s face was ghastly with fear. He moved onward, and Bell heard the sound of doors being thrust wide. Once he gave a command in the staccato fashion of a terrified man. Bell nodded grimly.

“Now we’ll move. Slowly, Ribiera! Always slowly.… Ah! That’s better! Paula, you go on before and look into each room. I shall be sorry if any of your servants follow after you, Ribiera.… Through the doorway. Yes! All clear, Paula? I’m balancing the hammers very carefully, Ribiera. Very delicate work. It is fortunate for you that my nerves are rather steady. But really, I don’t much care.… Still all clear before us, Paula? With the servants nerve-racked as they are, I believe we’ll make it through, even if I do kill Ribiera. There’ll be no particular point in killing us then. It won’t help them. Don’t stumble, please, Ribiera.… Go carefully, and very slowly.…”

Ribiera’s face was a gray mask of terror when they reached the door. A long, low car with two men on the chauffeur’s seat was waiting.

“Only one man up front, Ribiera,” said Bell dryly. “No ostentation, please. Now, I hope your servants haven’t summoned the police, because they might want to stop me from marching you out there with a gun in the small of your back. And that would be deplorable, Ribiera. Quite deplorable.”

With a glance, he ordered Paula into the tonneau. He followed her, driving Ribiera before him. There seemed to be none about but the stricken, terrified servant who had opened the door for their exit.

“My friend,” Bell told the major-domo grimly, “I’ll give you a bit of comfort. I’m not going to try to take the Senhor Ribiera away with me. Once I’m on board the yacht that waits for me, I’ll release him so he can keep you poor devils sane until my Government has found a way to beat this devilish poison of his. Then I’ll come back and kill him. Now you can tell the chauffeur to drive us to the Biera Mar.”