Read Online Legacy of a Spy by Henry S. Maxfield - Free Book Online

an American.” Slater produced Carmichael’s passport. “You’ve seen enough of these at the Bundesbahn Hotel to know the genuine article.”
    Mahler looked it over carefully. “You could still be working against Webber.” Mahler’s glance was shrewd. “Another American was.”
    “Do you know his name?” Slater asked quickly.
    “No. And I don’t know his reasons for disliking Webber.”
    “Did Webber tell you where he was going?”
    Mahler hesitated, and then said. “Yes. He said he was going back to the American Consulate in Zurich.”
    “Did you know that he never got there?”
    “I assumed that he did not.”
    “Why?” asked Bill. “How could you have assumed that?”
    “He promised to send me a card, if he had made it.” Mahler paused. “I never received that card.”
    Slater tried to think of a way to establish himself with Mahler. Europeans were much less gullible than Americans, and Mahler wasn’t going to be easy to convince. Slater tried again.
    “Why, if you know that Webber is missing, do you suspect me? The fact that I am trying to find him should be proof that I mean him no harm.”
    “Because I know,” said Mahler, “you are not his personal friend.”
    “True,” said Slater, “but I’m not his enemy and I must find him.”
    “Then why don’t you produce some official papers and tell me you’re from the American police or something? After all,” Mahler continued, “Webber is an official in your Foreign Office.”
    Mahler might look American, Slater reflected, but his respect for official papers was German to the core.
    “Look, Mahler,” said Slater, shaking his head, “you’ve got to trust me! You’re the only direct contact with Webber I know. As for the lack of papers, let us say that my government prefers, for the moment anyway, not to do anything in an official way.”
    “Why?”
    Slater looked at Mahler’s serious, stubborn face, looked desperately at the sky, and suddenly began to laugh.
    “Dammit to hell, Mahler. You are the most stubborn man I’ve ever met. To use a favorite expression of mine, you are a pistol!”
    “I am a—revolver?” Mahler looked perplexed. “What kind of an expression is that?”
    “Never mind.” Slater laughed harder than ever. “Look,” he said finally, “Webber’s enemy is a man named Wyman who also works in the Zurich Consulate. Charlie Webber had reason to believe that Wyman was working for another government, and followed him down here to make sure. Wyman must have gotten suspicious and had Webber tailed. Now Webber has disappeared. I have been assigned by my government to find out what happened and why.”
    “Wyman was working with Communists?” asked Mahler.
    “Presumably, but so far there is no positive proof that he’s doing anything wrong. The United States wouldn’t exactly care to announce to the world that one of the members of its Foreign Service had been kidnaped by another member who is a Communist agent.”
    “Yes,” Mahler nodded slowly, “I can see that.” He looked up at Slater. “You were afraid I might be a Communist.”
    “We have them in our country,” said Slater.
    “Did Charlie say in his letter that I was a—”
    “—a prisoner of war in Russia,” Slater finished the question. “Yes, he did. POW’s have been brain-washed.”
    “Not this one.” Heinz Mahler smiled for the first time. The smile made him look very boyish. “I will do anything I can to help, Herr Carmichael, but I don’t see what I can do. I have to go back to my job.”
    “Can you possibly extend your vacation?”
    “Perhaps,” said Mahler, “but I have no money.”
    “Don’t worry about money. I’ll take care of that.”
    “I don’t want your money,” Mahler said quickly. “Charlie Webber is my friend, and,” he smiled again. “I’m not very impressed with Communism.”
    “Neither am I, Heinz,” said Slater, “ but I get paid. People still have to live.”
    “What do you want me to do?” asked