In the lobby, Bang-Bang said, "Hey, who am I working for—Tahiti or Delaware? I forgot. Jesus, I never seen such office setups in my life. And in the Empire State Building! We're big time, kid. Do I wear a tuxedo or a general's uniform?"
Vantagio came out. "Where's the bodies?"
"Jesus, Vantagio," said Bang-Bang. "You ought to see this kid's offices!"
"What offices?"
"Half a whole God (bleeped) floor of the Empire State Building!" said Bang-Bang.
Vantagio looked at Heller. "You got to keep Bang-Bang off the booze. He's getting the DTs. I came out to tell you Mike called and said your cab would be ready tomorrow. You better go over and get it, Bang-Bang."
"Can't," said Bang-Bang. "It's not Saturday night."
"Hey, what's this Saturday night?" said Heller.
"That's when the Civic Betterment League meets," said Vantagio. "All the top officials of the city. So there's not much of anything checked up on at that time. Bang-Bang, being on parole, wouldn't risk much if he was out of town a few hours."
"You mean everybody meets?" said Heller.
"Yeah, the heads of police and the mayor and so on. It's a bad thing for us, too. Faustino Narcotici presides and he hands out all the Mafia payoff dough at that time. It's worse on the first Saturday night of the month– the governor and state officials are there, too."
"Well, if it isn't Saturday night, I'll go over and get the cab myself," said Heller.
"Hell, no, you can't do that!" said Vantagio. "Don't you know nobody under eighteen is permitted to drive at all in New York City? That's why you got to have a driver. I'll send one of the boys over for it. But what's this about the Empire State Building?"
"Just a little sideline that came up," said Heller.
Possibly it was the way Heller said it. Too casual. But a little stirring of alarm began to rise. Suppose Izzy didn't steal his money?
In college, two cars, the Geological Survey and now this strange new development of the Empire State Building ... My wits simply would not mesh! Only one thing was loud: Heller was up to no good.
And I had not had the slightest word from the New York office concerning agents Raht and Terb. Heller had to be stopped! I couldn't figure out what he was doing but it had to be stopped anyway. The man was a howling menace! A private office with a view of all lower Manhattan indeed!
Chapter 3
Keeping the hours I kept due to time differences between New York and Turkey, I had fallen into the necessity of sleeping all morning. I was furious to find that old (bleepard) Karagoz standing beside my bed bowing and muttering. I stared at my watch. It was only eleven! I glared at him.
"Two men in yard, Sultan Bey." He waved his hands helplessly. "They come in. They sit down on bench. They refuse to go away."
"I'll make them go away!" I shouted. I grabbed a ten-gauge shotgun and sprang to the door.
"Sultan Bey!" shouted Karagoz. "You got no clothes on!"
I rushed out anyway. Nobody is going to tell me what to do!
Two men were sitting on a bench, sure enough. They were faced the other way. I leaped in front of them, levelling the gun.
It was Raht and Terb!
Raht's mustache stuck out even further in surprise.
Terb's swarthy, plump face went a bit white.
"What in the name of seventeen brindle Devils are you doing here?" I thundered at them.
Raht had the effrontery to put his finger to his lips to shush me.
Terb was trying to get back on the bench.
"Account for yourselves!" I thundered even louder.
Raht was making even more urgent finger motions and I abruptly realized I had been speaking Voltarian. But no matter. When the staff sees me coming, they vanish.
"We... we obeyed your order," stammered Raht. That was more like it. I had him stammering.
"You s ... s ... said," quavered Terb, '"Find them and force them to report in.'"
"We... we were sending radio messages every day and... and so we thought you could only mean to come here."
So the message was unclear. Leave it to subordinates to take advantage of you.
"You (bleeped) fools have been watching the bug that was sewn into his clothes. Somebody at the store threw them in the garbage when he bought new clothes!" I levelled the gun barrels at them. "He's not in the Atlantic! He's right in that UN whorehouse, the Gracious Palms, having the time of his life!"
Raht gaped. "How do you know that?"
Anger had caused me to be incautious. They must never know I had had Heller bugged on Voltar and was monitoring everything he saw or heard. "I have other sources of information. You think you are the only spies in the world? I got spies all over the place. Even spies on you!"
They seemed cowed so I herded them into the patio of the house. I made them stand there.
Then I went and put away the gun and got a robe and buzzed the kitchen for some hot kahve, served with lots of sugar, sekerli.
While I drank it, I got to thinking that maybe this wasn't too bad. I could brief them very exactly. I could also force them to take, no matter how many Voltarian codes it violated, a receiver and decoder.
I went back, drinking more kahve and keeping them standing. It gave me a certain satisfaction to realize they must have just come off a long plane ride and had had no sleep. It was also nice that it was a boiling hot Turkish September day and that they were probably dying for a cold drink. You have to keep such people in place—riffraff.
"You are not going to be executed," I said, to open the conversation and put them at ease. "Unless, of course, you keep fouling up."
They shifted about uneasily.
"The agent I have trailing you is a complete madman," I said. "But I think I can hold him in check."
Karagoz and a waiter came in with a silver pitcher of sira that was beaded with mist, and three glasses. I sent two of the glasses and the servants away and sat there sipping the cold drink.
So far, everything I had done was just textbook. But it made the rest easier.
"There is a platen," I said. "It is about so big." And I made a motion with my hands. "It is just a sheet with slots in it. Do you know what one is?"
"A platen code sheet," said Raht.
"You put it over a piece of paper and write the real message in the slots," said Terb. "And then you fill in the rest of the letter."
"Your target has one. We must get it!" I said. "Even if it costs you your lives." Also textbook. "It is somewhere in his baggage and that baggage is in the old Secretary General's suite on the top floor of the Gracious Palms. Do I make myself clear?"
They both nodded.
"You are to disguise yourselves as diplomats. You are to pretend to buy services. You are to go to that suite. The door is never locked. He is never there during the day. You are to ransack the place and find that platen! Understood?"
They nodded.
"One more thing. Another agent tried to plant a bug there. But there is some sort of interference, some carbon disturbance. You are to find that and disable it."
They nodded.
"And one more thing," I said. "You, Raht, must shave off your mustache."
Horror went over him. "But it hides a knife scar that is very plain and identifies me!"
"All right," I said. "Then just trim it."
"My beautiful mustache!"
One must be firm. "It's better than trimming your throat," I said.
He got the point.
"Now, there are no taxis," I said.
"We just came in one."
"There are no taxis," I said. "So walk to the airport, spend the night in the waiting room and get a plane tomorrow morning."
They nodded glumly.
I swirled my glass and made the ice in it rattle and tinkle. "Any questions?"
"Those two devices you gave us with orders to keep them within two hundred miles of him are hidden on the television antenna of the Empire State Building," said Terb. "Is that all right?"
Hey, that was very all right. The units to relay the signals from Heller's bugs were right above him. "It will serve at the moment," I said, coldly. "Is that all?"
They nodded.
I gave the ice in the glass another tinkle. "Then get out. I'm busy."
They walked away in the boiling sun.
I rejoiced. I had them under control now. I would soon have the platen so that I could forge Heller's reports back to Voltar. And then BLOWIE! Dead Heller.
Life was sweet!
Chapter 4
The following morning, suddenly, abruptly and deliciously, life became much sweeter.
The taxi driver came rushing in. "Quick! Quick! Utanc will be here in two hours!"
My new Turkish dancing girl!
I had been eating breakfast. I leaped up and ran about the patio. I had overturned the kahve service and my feet crushed the remainder of the fragile cups.
He seemed to want to say something else. I stopped in front of him.
"There's another five thousand U.S. dollars for the camel and truck drivers. They have to have it before they will deliver her."
I pushed the five thousand at him. He took it. "Now, where is her room?" he demanded.
I ran about a bit more. The villa had plenty of rooms. There was one huge one that opened on a private area of the garden and had its own bath. "That's her room."
He looked over the locks on the inside of the doors. "I'll have to call a locksmith to rush down and strengthen these," he said. "She's very shy and afraid of things."
He called a locksmith. He came back. "He'll be here at once. That's another ten thousand Turkish lira."
I gave it to him.
"You've seen her?" I demanded. "How is she?"
"I haven't got time to talk now," he said and rushed out and drove away at high speed.
I called Melahat Hanim, the housekeeper. "Get this room ready, quick."
"I prepared another smaller room," she said.
"No, no. Prepare this room."
The staff ran around and got the best rugs moved in and set the place all up.
The locksmith arrived in an old truck and promptly started drilling and hammering and pounding. He was fastening ornate Turkish iron bars across the inside of the doors. Two helpers arrived in another truck. They had brand-new, latest-style Yale locks and started putting these in place.
With me yelling at them, the staff ran around in circles and took out what they had brought in, brought in what had been taken out, forgot the towels, couldn't find the towels, took my towels and put those in the bathroom.
The gardener rushed around and cut flowers and stuffed them into vases.
We were finally all ready.
We waited.
I went out in the road several times to look. No Utanc yet. Four hours went by. I had just decided to go to my secret room to check up on things when one of the small servant boys came screaming in, "The truck is coming, the truck is coming!"
It was a huge truck. It couldn't get in the gate. It had eight laborers on it. It was piled with metal trunks!
The eight laborers jumped down in the road and one by one began to carry the big trunks in. Karagoz directed them and got them to put them down in various spots in the new room.
The taxi driver arrived.
The foreman of the laborers came over and demanded fifteen thousand lira. The truck driver explained to me that this was a local truck and not covered in the five thousand U.S. I paid.
The truck drove away.
The taxi driver went into the room and locked the garden door from the inside. Then he set the locks on the patio door. He demanded all the spare keys. He gathered them in his palm and then threw them into the room. He then shut the patio door so that it was locked and could only be opened from within.
"Wait a minute," I said. "Where's Utanc?"
"You've got to understand," he said. "She's a shy, simple, tribal girl from the Kara Rum desert. She knows nothing of civilization. She is also terrified after the whole Russian Army tried to rape her. She is also exhausted from her long, long trek and the terror of fleeing out of Russian Turkmen, and should be allowed to rest and wash up for a day."
"But where is she?" I demanded.
"Probably in one of those trunks," he said.
"You don't know?" I said, incredulous.
"When I was talking to her this morning, she said not to pry because it made her blush."
"You've seen her then! What does she look like?"
"You really can't tell through her veil but I'd say she looked just like the photograph I showed you when you bought her. She is very shy. She not only had a veil on but she was also just peeking out of a truck tarp. Oh, yes, here's her bill of sale."
It was all in Turkish and it had a lot of seals and a notary stamp. It said one Utanc was the property of one Sultan Bey. My hands trembled as I took it. I owned a real, live, Turkish dancing girl! Body and soul!
"Maybe she'll suffocate in one of those trunks," I said.
"My advice," said the taxi driver, "is just to let her rest. She is a flower of the desert. A wild thing, really. Fragile, frail. Unused to men and a total stranger to civilization. I would just let her rest." And he left.
About ten minutes later, there was a loud clank inside the room. Then another clank. I recognized what it must be: the iron door bars were being dropped into place. I sighed with relief. She had gotten out of the trunk and locked the doors.
Well, needless to say, I wasn't much good for anything the rest of that day.
I listened at the door and once I thought I heard the shower running.
I spent hours walking about the yard and patio.
It was late evening. I became concerned that the girl had had no food. I thought I could hear some stirrings from the room. I went and got Melahat Hanim and had her prepare a tray with nice things on it.