Read Online Spy Killer by L. Ron Hubbard - Free Book Online
Authors: L. Ron Hubbard
Tags: Fiction, Literary, General, Suspense, Thrillers, Mystery & Detective, Espionage, Mystery Fiction, Short Stories, Theft, spy stories, Sailors, Outlaws - China - Shanghai, Shanghai (China)
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properly coerced, owned the hoax.” He drew a slip of paper from his pocket and passed it around to the others.
“A man will admit anything under torture,” said Varinka.
“Perhaps, but there is something else. Tonight you let a man escape us under a pretext. The taicho there did not stop him because your authority was higher than the taicho’ s. This man, Takeki, is doubtless your partner. You are working for the Shina-lin, and anyone working for the Chinese is the enemy of Japan, therefore a traitor.”
“But that proves nothing.” said Varinka.
The officers looked at one another, smiling as men do when they have an ace as yet undisplayed. They looked back at Varinka. She was standing straight and steady. Her blue tunic with its high collar set off the brilliance of her yellow hair. But they saw nothing of her beauty. Not now.
“Tonight many men were killed,” said the taisho . “And this has just been brought from the scene.”
The man took the automatic she had given Kurt from his pocket and showed it to her.
“The number of this gun,” said the taisho, “corresponds with the one issued to you. This is your gun. Some way you gave it to the foreigner. The final proof, Takeki, is that the men killed were members of Lin Wang’s Death Squad. Their papers disclosed that to us. What more proof could you want?”
Heads moved from side to side. With an air of finality cigarettes were dropped to the floor and ground under boots.
“The sentence, Takeki, is death. A firing squad is being sent from the barracks. Taicho Shimazu, take this woman to the Wall. Bring back her head, so that there will be no tricks. That is all.”
Varinka’s expression did not change. She met their eyes unafraid.
From the street came the clank and measured tread of marching men. The sound stopped and the Japanese clambered into the truck. Two men stepped up to Varinka’s side and took hold of her arms, Taicho Shimazu barked a command and went out through the entrance, followed by his prisoner.
“Sayonara, Takeki,” said the taisho . “Goodbye. I shall treasure your head.”
Varinka did not look back. The guards thrust her into the car and sat down on either side. Taicho Shimazu took his place on one of the intermediate seats.
“Drive!” barked Shimazu to the silhouette of the driver.
The car started off. Varinka held her head erect, disdainful of the hands which held her fast.
An early dawn was coming up. The world was cold and thin as though seen through heavy gauze. The pearl shafts of the east did not reach far into the streets of Kalgan.
As the brightness grew, Chinese and Mongols on the streets turned to stare at the touring car followed by the truck full of soldiers. The sight was not new. This was obviously an execution party. Some luckless soul was about to add his death to the long list which paid for conquest.
Varinka looked straight ahead, chilly in her silk tunic, which fluttered a little in the brisk wind.
“Driver,” said Shimazu, leaning forward, “this is not the way to the Wall. You are driving too fast.”
Kurt smiled a triumphant smile. He had knocked out the driver and had hidden his body beside the wall of headquarters. In the darkness, with only his purloined military cap in evidence to those in the rear, he had easily escaped detection.
He stamped on the brakes and swung swiftly about, the blue-nosed .45 pointed generally at the three.
“Tobi-dasu!” cried Kurt. “Jump out! All of you!”
Varinka uttered a small cry of relief and surprise. The two bayoneted rifles swung forward. The soldiers would defend themselves and their prisoner at any cost. Kurt saw the flash of steel.
The captain snatched at his own automatic, fearless of death. Kurt caught the three separate movements and knew that he could not shoot fast enough. One of the three would get him.
But Varinka was not merely a spectator. In a swift movement she reached out with both hands and snatched the rifle barrels, holding
“A man will admit anything under torture,” said Varinka.
“Perhaps, but there is something else. Tonight you let a man escape us under a pretext. The taicho there did not stop him because your authority was higher than the taicho’ s. This man, Takeki, is doubtless your partner. You are working for the Shina-lin, and anyone working for the Chinese is the enemy of Japan, therefore a traitor.”
“But that proves nothing.” said Varinka.
The officers looked at one another, smiling as men do when they have an ace as yet undisplayed. They looked back at Varinka. She was standing straight and steady. Her blue tunic with its high collar set off the brilliance of her yellow hair. But they saw nothing of her beauty. Not now.
“Tonight many men were killed,” said the taisho . “And this has just been brought from the scene.”
The man took the automatic she had given Kurt from his pocket and showed it to her.
“The number of this gun,” said the taisho, “corresponds with the one issued to you. This is your gun. Some way you gave it to the foreigner. The final proof, Takeki, is that the men killed were members of Lin Wang’s Death Squad. Their papers disclosed that to us. What more proof could you want?”
Heads moved from side to side. With an air of finality cigarettes were dropped to the floor and ground under boots.
“The sentence, Takeki, is death. A firing squad is being sent from the barracks. Taicho Shimazu, take this woman to the Wall. Bring back her head, so that there will be no tricks. That is all.”
Varinka’s expression did not change. She met their eyes unafraid.
From the street came the clank and measured tread of marching men. The sound stopped and the Japanese clambered into the truck. Two men stepped up to Varinka’s side and took hold of her arms, Taicho Shimazu barked a command and went out through the entrance, followed by his prisoner.
“Sayonara, Takeki,” said the taisho . “Goodbye. I shall treasure your head.”
Varinka did not look back. The guards thrust her into the car and sat down on either side. Taicho Shimazu took his place on one of the intermediate seats.
“Drive!” barked Shimazu to the silhouette of the driver.
The car started off. Varinka held her head erect, disdainful of the hands which held her fast.
An early dawn was coming up. The world was cold and thin as though seen through heavy gauze. The pearl shafts of the east did not reach far into the streets of Kalgan.
As the brightness grew, Chinese and Mongols on the streets turned to stare at the touring car followed by the truck full of soldiers. The sight was not new. This was obviously an execution party. Some luckless soul was about to add his death to the long list which paid for conquest.
Varinka looked straight ahead, chilly in her silk tunic, which fluttered a little in the brisk wind.
“Driver,” said Shimazu, leaning forward, “this is not the way to the Wall. You are driving too fast.”
Kurt smiled a triumphant smile. He had knocked out the driver and had hidden his body beside the wall of headquarters. In the darkness, with only his purloined military cap in evidence to those in the rear, he had easily escaped detection.
He stamped on the brakes and swung swiftly about, the blue-nosed .45 pointed generally at the three.
“Tobi-dasu!” cried Kurt. “Jump out! All of you!”
Varinka uttered a small cry of relief and surprise. The two bayoneted rifles swung forward. The soldiers would defend themselves and their prisoner at any cost. Kurt saw the flash of steel.
The captain snatched at his own automatic, fearless of death. Kurt caught the three separate movements and knew that he could not shoot fast enough. One of the three would get him.
But Varinka was not merely a spectator. In a swift movement she reached out with both hands and snatched the rifle barrels, holding
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