Read Online The Devastators by Donald Hamilton - Free Book Online
Authors: Donald Hamilton
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thoughtfully. It was really a very fine note. It said all the right things to everybody who might read it, from me to the hotel maid who might find it in the wastebasket later.
To me, of course, it was a warning in double-talk. It said quite clearly that if I tried to find Winnie, she’d be hurt very much. Presumably I was supposed to wait for contact to be made, meanwhile playing the part of the older husband whose young wife had learned his dreadful secret and left him. I was supposed to keep things quiet with this story, disturbing neither the hotel management nor the authorities. The implication, not necessarily reliable, was that if I did all this, Winnie would be okay and might even be released eventually, perhaps in return for further cooperation on my part.
I stared at the note grimly.
I’m sure you know
, it said, presumably meaning that I surely knew with whom I was dealing, but I didn’t really. I only knew that Vadya had moved into the hotel here at just about the same time that Basil was getting ready to receive me at Wilmot Square, but I couldn’t be absolutely certain they were working together. These could have been independent actions triggered by my phone call to Walling. The first thing I had to do was determine, maybe by a process of elimination, just who did have Winnie. Of course, I’d been warned not to try to find her, but that was routine. As a desperate husband who was also a trained and ruthless agent, I wouldn’t really be expected to do nothing at all.
I reached for the phone. It took me a while to learn Les’s current office number, and a while longer to reach him. Then I had him on the line.
“Crowe-Barham here.”
“Helm,” I said. “Did you get everything taken care of at that place,
amigo
?”
“I did,” he said, “but there is a feeling in the higher echelons that a certain amount of reciprocity would be very nice, old chap. If you ask for our assistance, it has been suggested, you might at least take us into your confidence.”
“Who asked?” I said. “Check your tapes of the conversation, old pal. I asked nothing. You called and made the offer, unsolicited. Not that I’m not grateful, and all that jazz.” Before he could speak, I went on quickly, “But I’m asking now. Are Her Majesty’s troops still at my disposal? My wife is missing.”
There was a brief silence; then he said quietly, “I say, I am sorry to hear it. What can we do to help?”
“I need a quiet room. A very quiet room—soundproof perhaps and a car with a deaf-and-dumb chauffeur.” After a moment I added without expression, “The car and driver you lent me this afternoon would do fine.”
There was another little pause. “Are you planning to leave anything in the quiet room, old boy? I mean, who cleans up afterwards, you or we?” I didn’t say anything. There was yet another silence. I could visualize him frowning, perhaps chewing or tugging at his moustache, while he made up his mind. Then his voice came again: “Ah, well, accidents sometimes happen in this work, don’t you know? If one should occur, just leave the debris, slip the latch, and let the door lock behind you. We’ll take care of things again. Incidentally, it would seem as if somebody wanted you both alive. We found a hypodermic on the stairs at Wilmot Square. The contents would have put you under for quite a while, but they would not have killed you.”
“I see. Thanks for the information.”
“There have been some very odd kidnappings lately. We do not quite understand the purpose. Killing, yes, but not kidnaping. Perhaps you have something to contribute on the subject.”
“I’m afraid not,” I said. “All I know is that my wife is missing.”
“To be sure.” His voice was cool. “Well, where and when will you want the car?”
I told him. Afterwards, I replaced the phone, got up and made a face at my image in the dresser mirror. I don’t really like asking help from people I have to lie to, or lying
To me, of course, it was a warning in double-talk. It said quite clearly that if I tried to find Winnie, she’d be hurt very much. Presumably I was supposed to wait for contact to be made, meanwhile playing the part of the older husband whose young wife had learned his dreadful secret and left him. I was supposed to keep things quiet with this story, disturbing neither the hotel management nor the authorities. The implication, not necessarily reliable, was that if I did all this, Winnie would be okay and might even be released eventually, perhaps in return for further cooperation on my part.
I stared at the note grimly.
I’m sure you know
, it said, presumably meaning that I surely knew with whom I was dealing, but I didn’t really. I only knew that Vadya had moved into the hotel here at just about the same time that Basil was getting ready to receive me at Wilmot Square, but I couldn’t be absolutely certain they were working together. These could have been independent actions triggered by my phone call to Walling. The first thing I had to do was determine, maybe by a process of elimination, just who did have Winnie. Of course, I’d been warned not to try to find her, but that was routine. As a desperate husband who was also a trained and ruthless agent, I wouldn’t really be expected to do nothing at all.
I reached for the phone. It took me a while to learn Les’s current office number, and a while longer to reach him. Then I had him on the line.
“Crowe-Barham here.”
“Helm,” I said. “Did you get everything taken care of at that place,
amigo
?”
“I did,” he said, “but there is a feeling in the higher echelons that a certain amount of reciprocity would be very nice, old chap. If you ask for our assistance, it has been suggested, you might at least take us into your confidence.”
“Who asked?” I said. “Check your tapes of the conversation, old pal. I asked nothing. You called and made the offer, unsolicited. Not that I’m not grateful, and all that jazz.” Before he could speak, I went on quickly, “But I’m asking now. Are Her Majesty’s troops still at my disposal? My wife is missing.”
There was a brief silence; then he said quietly, “I say, I am sorry to hear it. What can we do to help?”
“I need a quiet room. A very quiet room—soundproof perhaps and a car with a deaf-and-dumb chauffeur.” After a moment I added without expression, “The car and driver you lent me this afternoon would do fine.”
There was another little pause. “Are you planning to leave anything in the quiet room, old boy? I mean, who cleans up afterwards, you or we?” I didn’t say anything. There was yet another silence. I could visualize him frowning, perhaps chewing or tugging at his moustache, while he made up his mind. Then his voice came again: “Ah, well, accidents sometimes happen in this work, don’t you know? If one should occur, just leave the debris, slip the latch, and let the door lock behind you. We’ll take care of things again. Incidentally, it would seem as if somebody wanted you both alive. We found a hypodermic on the stairs at Wilmot Square. The contents would have put you under for quite a while, but they would not have killed you.”
“I see. Thanks for the information.”
“There have been some very odd kidnappings lately. We do not quite understand the purpose. Killing, yes, but not kidnaping. Perhaps you have something to contribute on the subject.”
“I’m afraid not,” I said. “All I know is that my wife is missing.”
“To be sure.” His voice was cool. “Well, where and when will you want the car?”
I told him. Afterwards, I replaced the phone, got up and made a face at my image in the dresser mirror. I don’t really like asking help from people I have to lie to, or lying
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