The Vulcan Disaster

“I did once. David would not enjoy having me tell you the story, though. Oh, yes, once I was valuable. When the plastic surgeons of the People’s Republic had finished patching my face, I had a whole new identity. Of course, when the rest of the doctors had finished with me, I had...”

“Oh, damn,” Tatiana said. “We are out of shrimp. Oh, Will, how could you let me do anything so foolish? I...”

The seraphic smile turned her way. “What was for dinner?”

“Eight-precious soup. On the Mongolian hotpot.”

“Serve seven-precious, my dear. Nick and I won’t mind.”

“You were saying,” I said.

“Oh, yes. Anyhow, I escaped. On the way a woman — a Chinese woman with a teen-aged daughter by her Russian husband, a woman who had been repatriated forcibly when her husband was killed in the taking of Harbin — helped me at grave risk to herself. I took her and her daughter with me when I went over the border. The woman was killed. The daughter...” He nodded at Tatiana, busy at the chopping block, out of earshot. “She had no papers. Another repatriation was out of the question. When I came out into Hong Kong I gave a false identity, to match my false face. I took the name of a friend who’d been in prison with me, a man with no relatives and no importance to the American government. When I had established my own false identity I bought bogus papers for the girl. I knew my career with AXE had ended; I settled down to raising the girl. But talk about busman’s holidays. I couldn’t stop snooping. I wound up doing exactly what I’d been doing before, but without portfolio, so to speak. My activities are somewhat hampered, I admit, by...”

“Oh, Will,” she said behind him now. “Do come and light the stove for me. I never do it right...”

He rose and complied. His eyes remained on me. The soft love-pat he gave her shoulder was a father’s indulgent caress.

“Wow,” I said. “I’m still having a hard time taking this in. You’ve never contacted Hawk again?”

“Not directly. From time to time I’ve fed him a tip or two, but always via the anonymous letter or call, and sometimes even by a sort of dog-leg approach, running the information through the British first. There’s a funny sad-faced fellow there with an odd sense of humor.”

“Fredericks?”

“That’s the man. I will not go through our own Embassy channels. Anyhow, some interesting things are going on right now.”

“They sure as hell are. And that was going to be my next question.”

“Right. The men you met tonight — the men we left in Temple Street — were paid assassins. They seem to have been hired by someone who knew of Tatiana’s innocent association with the late Mr. Meyer. They were sent after her to close her mouth on the remote chance that she might know something. Having, as I say, very likely murdered Mr. Meyer...”

“That’s a moot point,” I said. I bit my lip again. Should I open up? And get some feedback from the greatest agent of them all? Some help, perhaps? I swallowed hard and plowed forward. “I know the guys that killed Meyer. They seem to have a particular nasty little trademark.” I told him about their bloody signature. “The question is, are these the kind of guys who’d hire a bunch of crazy assassins.” I poured myself another cup of ng ka py and had a leisurely snort. Then I took a deep breath and told him most of the rest of it. He sat back, nodding and smiling and not interrupting me once. At the end of it he smiled and shook his head.

“My, my,” he said. “An entire shipload of American arms. And not one but three competitors contending for it.”

“Hey,” I interrupted. “Three?”

“Not counting the late Mr. Meyer, who was merely acting as a go-between, mediating between the General and... and... excuse me a moment, Nick... I...” His hands went to his head; his eyes seemed to go out of focus for a second or so; then he seemed to regain control. “I... an old war wound... excuse me... where was I?”

“Three groups contending for the arms shipment,” I said. “Will — are you all right?”

He waved away help with one hand. “Oh, yes, yes. It’s just...” Another flicker of pain passed visibly over the round face. “No... I was saying... the... the Israelis seem to be some sort of outsider group, Nick. I don’t see them as agents of their government.”

“Me neither. Will, can I get you anything?”