Peking & The Tulip Affair (2 page)

He kissed her hungrily, and soon he was lost in her arms.

The huge blue-and-silver bird landed at Kai Tak Airport and Nick checked his suitcase in a locker. He fingered the pen in his breast pocket. It was no ordinary pen. In it was Store, the drug that brought on a state of suspended animation, and also the antidote. It was the only weapon Nick had.

A taxi took him to the Peninsula Hotel. Yes, Mr. Danzig was in, the desk clerk said with a cheerful smile. An elevator took Nick up to Hans Danzig's floor.

Hans Danzig was a baldish man of fifty with a horseshoe of white hair. He had on a linen suit which seemed too snug for his stocky body. He invited Nick to sit and asked him if he wanted a drink.

"Nothing for me."

"Just to be sociable." Danzig picked up the phone and asked for room service. He looked at Nick and lifted his eyebrows.

"You talked me into it. I'll have a B and B."

Danzig spoke into the mouthpiece and then hung up. He sat down on a sofa and contemplated Nick with mild, pleasant eyes. "I don't envy you," he remarked.

"What does that mean?" Nick said dryly.

"I can guess your mission."

"Very interesting." Nick leaned back and stretched his legs. "I was ordered to see you. That's all I know."

"And I was ordered to brief you — about Agent Z." Danzig stopped as if waiting for a reaction. There wasn't any. "Exactly what did Hawk tell you about Agent Z?"

"You know, Mr. Danzig, I'm a funny cuss. I hate to talk. All I like to do is listen."

"You mean you're suspicious of me? How amusing." But Hans Danzig didn't look amused. He looked annoyed.

"I'm not suspicious of anyone," Nick said calmly. "It's just that I wasn't told to mention to you any conversations I might have had with anyone. Discretion, Mr. Danzig. You know how it is."

Before Danzig could reply, the boy arrived with the Benedictine and brandy. He tipped the boy and handed a glass to Nick and kept one for himself.

Nick sipped his drink and then asked Danzig exactly who he was.

"Just
someone passing through the Orient. A scientist" Danzig tasted his drink. "I can be as closemouthed as you. But we won't get anywhere that way. Well, never mind. You needn't tell me anything. It isn't really necessary."

"Just what is Agent Z?" Nick asked.

"A combination of synthetic drugs that can change a man's whole personality. Can even change his thinking."

"I believe Hawk did mention that," Nick said, loosening up.

"That's a lot to admit to," Danzig mocked the AXE agent "You may get a bad report card if you say any more."

This may be a joke to you, sir, but it isn't to me. You must see the position I'm in. If Hawk had introduced us, or if we had met before, I wouldn't be so cautious. But as it is…"

"I understand." Danzig nodded sympathetically. "I don't envy you, my friend. It's a hard business. What did Kipling call it? The great game, I believe. But it isn't a game, really. Not in the true sense, is it? High stakes, yes. We play for high stakes." He sighed.

Nick wanted to have lunch before he caught his plane. He pointedly looked at his watch.

"All right, my friend, I'll get to the point." Danzig put his glass aside. "Agent Z has a great potential. Imagine, if you will, enemy agents infiltrating a cabinet or a parliament of a government by using Agent Z on the members of the cabinet or parliament. They take over the minds of these officials and make them do what they want. Soon they are in control of the country."

"It's rather frightening," Nick commented. "But the agents would have to get close to these officials."

"You think it can't be done?" Danzig grinned without humor. "Remember how fast Philby was rising before he was found out? A few more years and he might have been head of British Intelligence. When the CIA found out he was closely associated with Burgess and Maclean they refused to have anything more to do with him. What if Philby, or someone like him, had had Agent Z and was under orders to use it?"

Nick saw Danzig's point. In 1949 Philby was the SIS representative in Washington, working in liaison with the FBI and the CIA. SIS was the British Secret Intelligence Service or MI-6. Philby had come in contact with many top officials. With Agent Z in his possession, who knows what damage he could have done.

Nick knew the whole thing sounded fantastic but in his years with AXE he had been involved in many fantastic situations.

Danzig broke into his thoughts. "During the recent elections in Germany there was a surprising number of votes for the neo-Nazis. Martin Bormann may think it's time to take over Germany, with himself as the new Fuehrer. He wouldn't need much of an army if his agents managed to inject the top-ranking German officials with Agent Z. He could even go after the smaller countries in Europe or South America. It's no secret to the CIA and AXE that the Nazis who settled in countries like Argentina are itching to spread their venom through South America. They're getting old, and this may be their last chance."

There was a lot of respect and admiration in Nick's eyes as he looked at Hans Danzig, as if seeing the balding man for the first time. "You re not just an ordinary scientist."

"No scientist is ordinary," the man said without rancor.

"You said Agent Z is injected. Is that the only way it can be used? You can't just slip a few drops into someone's drink?"

"Perhaps sometime in the future that would be possible," Danzig said. "But not now. One day you will put a man under a sunlamp that will scramble his brain cells, and he'll get off the table a different man, an android, ready to do your bidding. But for now, we have Agent Z, a drug that has to be injected into the veins to be effective."

"How close are they to perfecting Agent Z?"

"Very close. Walther Kerner, Bormann's man, is an unusually brilliant scientist We didn't even bother trying to get him over to our side, knowing how devoted he was to Hitler. His loyalty has switched to Bormann." Danzig reached for his neglected drink and finished it. "That's an unusual pen you have there, Mr. Carter."

"Nothing can surprise me at this stage of the game," Nick sighed. "You probably know more about the pen than I do."

"Score is one of my little inventions. I hope you know how to use it."

"It was explained to me." Nick lit a cigarette. "One click injects the drug; two clicks the antidote. It has to be done fast. Always go for the throat."

Danzig got to his feet. "I wish I could tell you exactly where the laboratory is. I can't. But it must be near Peking. It's up to you to find it, destroy it. But you know all that I wish you well, Mr. Carter. Till we meet again."

Nick stood up and they shook hands.

Nick didn't bother crossing the harbor to Hong Kong. There were many good restaurants on Nathan Road in Kowloon. Kowloon, which was called The City of Nine Dragons, had as many interesting tourist attractions as Hong Kong Island. There was the Yaumati Typhoon Shelter where the boat people lived and the Lauchikok Amusement Park. But Nick didn't have the time. He had his lunch and then went out to hail a cab.

He lit a Canadian cigarette and settled back.

The cab went past the many department stores on Nathan Road. He looked out the window to watch the pretty girls sauntering by in their
cheongsams,
showing part of their thighs. He liked to look at pretty girls. He hoped he would never reach the stage where a pretty face or figure didn't interest him.

The cab reached its destination.

The plane left Kai Tak Airport and headed for the mainland. Nick saw the naval and merchant ships in the harbor; the family sampans in the bays and coves. The water was a soft blue.

He liked Hong Kong. He hoped he would be back soon for a much longer stay. He thought about Selina for a while and then pushed her out of his mind. There were other things to think about.

He was racing against time. There was an awful urgency about the whole thing. The interview with Hans Danzig convinced him of that.

Agent Z. A mind-altering drug. A subtle weapon. It didn't explode and make noise and bring death and destruction like a stick of dynamite or an atom bomb. But it was more dangerous than anything yet thought of. The idea of taking over a man's mind, making him into a robot, was almost unthinkable. Almost inhuman. Hell, it
was
inhuman. A devil like Martin Bormann wouldn't think twice about using such a weapon.

Bormann would do anything to bring about the resurgence of Nazi Germany.

Martin Bormann. Or Judas. God knew how many names Bormann had taken for himself since he had disappeared from Germany after Hitler's flaming death. Nick had felt respect and admiration for some of his enemies. But never for Bormann. He only felt a red-hot hatred for the man without hands. No hands. Just claws. Stainless-steel claws. And a face that was no face. Just a thousand scars.

Nick hadn't gotten to the point where he enjoyed killing. He knew others who had. But there would be no qualms about ending Bormann's life. The man had lived too long. Nick wouldn't be killing a man anyway, but a thing, a monster, a menace. He wanted to kill Bormann. He had to. He only hoped he wouldn't enjoy it — really enjoy it. God, he hoped he would never come to feel a sense of joy in taking a man's life. Even that of a monster like Bormann. He would feel nothing, absolutely nothing, when ending Bormann's black life. That was the way he wanted it. To kill the devil cleanly, swiftly, without remorse.

He had never looked forward to killing anyone. It was different now. It was an almost insane desire to rid the world of Bormann.

When he killed it was because he had to. No other way out. He never thought twice about it. It was to save either himself or his mission. He knew that to hesitate, even for a second, could abort a mission. And he would be dead.

Killmaster tried to push everything out of his mind but he couldn't. He was on edge, and that was no good.

He felt naked without Wilhelmina and Hugo. He was used to having them around. All he had was the drug in the pen he carried in his breast pocket, the drug called Store. But he had to get close to the enemy to use it, too damn close.

The plane was over the mainland.

He saw the sloping hills and valleys. There were the rice paddies and the water oxen. There was farm machinery, tractors and such, but not enough to go around.

Production in many of the provinces was at a standstill because of the clashes between the people of Red China. Fighting among themselves, Nick thought. Like little children. They'll never grow up.

He knew that one hundred and sixty persons were killed recently in an armed battle between two Communist groups in Amoy. The feuding groups were the Promotional Alliance and the Revolutionary Alliance. The Promotional Alliance was primarily a worker's group backed by Communist artillery units, while the Revolutionary Alliance was made up mostly of peasants and had the support of Communist infantrymen. Chuanchow, a neighboring city, had rushed fifty truckloads of troops to maintain order.

Nick also knew that anti-Maoist organizations had been very active in the provinces of Kiangsi and Kweichow.

Though the time for revolution was ripe in Red China, Nick felt that Mao Tse-tung would keep the upper hand. He had control of the Red army, and that was the most important thing.

Nick lowered his seat to a reclining position and took a nap. The plane flew on, above the creamy clouds.

Nick bought a copy of the
People's Daily News,
tucked it under his arm, and took the bus to Freedom Square. He registered in the Cathay Hotel just off the square. He chose the Cathay because it was one of the more modern hotels that wasn't frequented by the western correspondents. He wasn't looking forward to bumping into employees of the Toronto Wire Service. If any suspicious Chinese officials decided to check him out with Toronto, he would get a clean bill of health; it had already been arranged with the Toronto people at the wire service. But the genuine wire-service boys from Toronto hadn't been notified, for obvious reasons. Might as well advertise as tell anyone of the wire-service boys. Nick wanted to stay clear of them.

The furniture in his room was plain but comfortable. He put away his clothes and slid the suitcase under the bed. He hung up his jacket, kicked his shoes off, and stretched out on the bed to read the Peking newspaper. It seemed that anti-Communist and anti-Mao forces in the southern province of Kwangtung had been using antirevolutionary economism and infiltration into revolutionary committees to alienate relations between the revolutionary masses and members of the committees.

It amazed Nick that the big shots let information like this get to the people. It would seem only natural that they would keep it quiet Did Mao Tse-tung want these different groups to fight among themselves? That's what it seemed like to Nick. It was an old political trick. The different factions were kept weak by fighting among themselves, and Mao Tse-tung stayed on top.

He put away the newspaper and sighed. Well, Hawk had been right. He and the other passengers had been searched after landing at the airport. A grinning Chinese with buck teeth had explained that much gold and silver was being smuggled into China, so it was essential that all visitors be searched. He apologized profusely for the inconvenience.

It was a good thing he had left his weapons behind. He would have been hard put to explain away a stiletto and a Luger.

When it was getting dark he changed to a dark-blue suit and stuffed his pockets with yuan notes that had been given him in exchange for Canadian money. Five fen coins jangled in his pants pocket as he went down to the street. He spied a small restaurant across the street He dined on lamb and rice and drank two cups of hot green tea.

It was dark when he left the restaurant. The moon was a mottled lead color. It hung low over the city.