The Judas Spy Page 13

  "Not quite. I'm going to have them sent down to the Machmurs'. It's Judas' turn to pay ransom. His hostages for them if he wants them back."

  "Oh, no! You'll be in more danger…"

  "It's the name of the game, darling."

  "Don't be foolish." Her lips were soft and inventive. Her hands a surprise. "Stay here. Rest. Perhaps now he will go away."

  "Perhaps…"

  He returned her caresses. There was something about action, even near-disaster, even combat that left wounds, that stimulated him. A return to the primitive, as if you captured your loot and women? He felt a little ashamed and uncivilized — but Mata's butterfly touches rechanneled his thoughts.

  She touched the bandage on his buttock. "Does it hurt?"

  "Hardly at all."

  "We can be careful…"

  "Yes…"

  She enveloped him like a warm, soft coverlet.

  * * *

  They landed at Fong Island to find Adam Machmur and Gan Bik waiting on the ramp. Nick had a farewell word with Siauw's pilot. "After the ship is serviced you'll be going home to pick up the man Muller and the Japanese sailor. You won't be able to make that roundtrip today, will you?"

  "I might if we wanted to risk a night landing here. But I'd rather not." The flyer was a bright-faced young man who spoke English like a man who appreciated it as the international air control language and didn't want to make any mistakes. "If I could return in the morning it would be better, I think. But…" His shrug said he would if he had to. He took orders. He reminded Nick of Gan Bik — he went along because he was not yet sure how much he could buck the system.

  "Do it the safe way," Nick said. "Take off as early in the morning as you can."

  Teeth flashed like small piano keys against rubbed oak. Nick gave him a sheaf of rupee notes. "That's for a good trip down here. If you pick up those men and get them back to me there'll be four times as much waiting for you."

  "It will be done if it can be done, Mr. Bard."

  "Things may have changed back there. Buduk is in their pay, I think."

  The flyer frowned. "I'll do my best, but if Siauw says no…"

  "If you get them, remember they're tough men. Even handcuffed they can give you trouble. Gan Bik and a guard will go with you. It's the sensible thing to do."

  He watched the man decide that it would be a good idea to be able to tell Siauw that the Machmurs were so sure the prisoners would be sent on that they provided an important escort — Gan Bik. "Okay."

  Nick got Gan Bik aside. "Take a good man and fly up in Loponusias' plane and bring Muller and a Jap sailor down here. If there is any trouble come back quickly yourself."

  "Trouble?"

  "Buduk is in Judas' pay."

  Nick watched Gan Bik's illusions shatter, crumbling in his eyes like a thin vase tapped with a metal bar. "Not Buduk."

  "Yes, Buduk. You heard the story of the capture of Nife and Muller. And the fight."

  "Of course. My father has been on the telephone all day. The families are confused, but some have agreed to action. Resistance."

  "And Adam?"

  "He will resist — I think."

  "And your father?"

  "He says fight. He is urging Adam to discard the idea that you can use bribes to solve everything." Gan Bik spoke with pride.

  Nick said gently, "Your father is a smart man. Does he trust Buduk?"

  "No. I did, because when we were young Buduk talked to us a lot. But if he was in Judas' pay — it explains a lot of things. I mean — he excused some things he did, but…"

  "Like raising hell with women when he got to Djakarta?"

  "How did you know that?"

  "You know how news travels in Indonesia."

  Adam and Ong Tjang drove Nick and Hans to the house. He was stretched out on a chaise lounge in the giant living room, his weight raised off his sore buttock, when he heard the growling rumble of the flying boat taking off. Nick looked at Ong. "Your son is a good man. I hope he gets the prisoners without trouble."

  "If it can be done, he will do it." Ong hid his pride.

  Tala came into the room as Nick changed his glance to Adam. Both she and her father started as he asked, "And where is your brave son, Akim?"

  Adam regained his poker face at once. Tala looked at her hands. "Yes, Akim," Nick said. "Tala's twin brother who looks so much like her the deception was easy. She fooled us in Hawaii for awhile. Even one of Akim's teachers thought she was her brother when he took a quick look and studied photos."

  Adam said to his daughter, "Tell him. The need for deception is about done anyway. By the time Judas finds out we'll be fighting him or we'll be dead."

  Tala lifted her beautiful eyes to Nick, pleading for understanding. "It was Akim's idea. I was terrified when they had me prisoner. You can see — things — in Judas' eyes. When Muller brought me in the launch to be seen and to have daddy make a payment, our people pretended their boat wouldn't run. Muller came in to the dock."

  She faltered. Nick said, "Sounds like a brave operation. And Muller is a bigger fool than I thought. Senile. Go on."

  "Everybody was friendly. Daddy presented him with some bottles and they had a drink. Akim had a skirt rolled up and a — a stuffed bra — and he talked to me and hugged me and when we parted — he pushed me off into the crowd and slumped down in their launch. They thought it was me crouched over crying. I wanted the families to rescue all the prisoners but they wanted to wait and pay. So I went to Hawaii and talked to you…"

  "And you learned to be a first-class sub sailor," Nick said. "You kept the switch quiet because you hoped to keep Judas fooled and if it was known in Djakarta, you knew he'd find out about it in hours?"

  "Yes," Adam said.

  "You might have told me the truth," Nick said with a sigh. "It would have speeded things up a little."

  "We didn't know you at first," Adam protested.

  "I think things have speeded up a lot as it is." Nick saw the mischievous twinkle return to her eyes.

  Ong Tjang coughed. "What is our next move, Mr. Bard?"

  "Wait."

  "Wait? How long. For what?"

  "I don't know how long, or really for what, until our opponent moves. It is like a game of chess when you are in a superior position but your checkmate will depend on the move he chooses. He can't win, but he can do damage or delay the outcome. You shouldn't object to waiting. That used to be your policy."

  Adam and Ong exchanged looks. This Orang American would make an excellent trader. Nick hid a grin. He wished he was really sure that Judas had no move to avoid checkmate.

  * * *

  Nick found the waiting easy. He slept long hours, bathed his wounds gently and began to go swimming when the cuts closed, walked about the colorful, exotic countryside, and learned to like gado-gado — a delicious blend of mixed vegetables with peanut sauce.

  Gan Bik returned with Muller and the sailor and the prisoners were locked in the Machmur's sturdy jail. After a brief visit to note that the bars were strong and that two guards were always on duty, Nick ignored them. He borrowed Adam's new twenty-eight-foot runabout and took Tala for a picnic and island sightseeing trip. She seemed to think that by revealing the trick she and her brother had played, her bond with "Al Bard" was cemented. She virtually raped him as they rocked in a quiet lagoon, but he told himself he was too badly wounded to resist — it might open one of the cuts. When she asked him why he was chuckling he said, "Wouldn't it be funny if my blood got smeared on your legs and Adam saw it and jumped to conclusions and shot me?"

  She didn't think it was funny at all.

  He knew Gan Bik was suspicious of the depth of the relationship between Tala and the big American, but it was plain that the Chinese lad deluded himself that Nick was just a "big brother." Gan Bik brought his problems to Nick, most of them concerned with trying to modernize economic, labor and social practices on Fong Island. Nick pleaded lack of experience. "Get experts. I'm not your man."

  But in on
e area he did offer advice. Gan Bik, as a captain in Adam Machmur's private army, was trying to raise the morale of his men and indoctrinate them with reasons for loyalty to Fong Island. He told Nick, "Our troops have always been for sale. You could damn near hold up a bundle of banknotes on a battlefield and buy 'em right there."

  "Does that prove they're dumb or very smart?" Nick mused.

  "You joke," Gan Bik exclaimed. "Troops must be loyal. To country. To commander."

  "But these are private troops. Militia. I saw the regular army. Guarding big shots' homes and shaking down storekeepers."

  "Yes. That is sad. We do not have the efficiency of German troops or the Gung Ho of Americans or the dedication of Japanese…"

  "Thank God…"

  "What?"

  "Nothing much." Nick sighed. "Look — I think in the case of militia you have to give them two things to fight for. The first is self-interest. So promise them bonuses for action and top marksmanship. Then develop team spirit. Give prizes, medals and flags for the best units."

  "Yes," Gan Bik said thoughtfully, "you have good suggestions. Men will show more enthusiasm for things they can see and feel personally. Like fighting for their land. Then you have no morale problem."

  The next morning Nick noticed the troops drilling with extra enthusiasm, swinging their arms real wide-sweep Aussie style. Gan Bik had promised them something. Later that day Hans brought him a long cablegram as he lounged on the veranda, a pitcher of fruit punch beside him, enjoying a book he had found in Adam's bookcase.

  Hans said, "The cable office phoned it so I know what's in it. Bill Rohde is in a sweat. What did you send him? What kind of tops?"

  Hans had copied in block letters the cablese of Bill Rohde, the AXE agent fronting as manager for the "Bard Galleries." The sheet read: MOBBED FOR TOPS STOP TIMES AD REACHED EVERY WOULD BE HIPPIE STOP SHIP TWELVE GROSS.

  Nick threw back his head and roared. Hans said, "Let me in on it."

  "I shipped Bill a lot of yo-yo tops with religious carvings and nice scenes on them. Had to give Josef Dalam some business. Bill must have put an ad in the Times and sold all the damn things. Twelve gross! If he's selling them at the price I suggested we'll make — about four thousand bucks! And if the silly things keep on selling…"

  "If you get home soon enough you can demonstrate them on TV," Hans said. "In a male Bikini. All the gals will…"

  "Have some punch." Nick rattled the ice in the pitcher. "Please ask that girl to bring in the extension phone. I want to call Josef Dalam."

  Hans rattled off some Indonesian. "You're getting lazy and indolent like all the rest of us."

  "It's a good way of fife."

  "So you admit it?"

  "Sure." The cute, well-built maid handed him the telephone with a big smile and a slow recovery of her hand as Nick ran his large fingers over her tiny ones. He watched her revolve away as if he could see through the sarong. "It's a wonderful country."

  But without good telephone service. It took him half an hour to reach Dalam and tell him to ship the yo-yos.

  That evening Adam Machmur put on the feast-and-dance he had promised. The guests watched colorful spectacles as groups performed and played and sang. Hans whispered to Nick, "This country is vaudeville twenty-four hours a day. When it stops here it still goes on in government offices."

  "But they're happy. Having fun. Look at Tala dancing with all those girls. Rockettes with curves…"

  "Sure. But as long as they breed the way they do, the genetic intelligence level will drop. In the end — the slums of India, like the worst ones you saw along the river in Djakarta."

  "Hans, you're a gloom carrier."

  "And we Hollanders cured disease right and left and discovered vitamins and improved sanitation."

  Nick put a freshly opened bottle of beer into his friend's hand.

  They played tennis the next morning. Although Nick won, he found Hans to be good competition. As they walked back to the house Nick said, "I absorbed what you said last night about over-breeding. Any way out?"

  "In my opinion, none. They're doomed, Nick. They'll multiply like fruitflies on an apple until they're standing on each other's shoulders."

  "I hope you're wrong. I hope something is discovered before it's too late."

  "Like what? The answers are in man's reach but the generals and the politicians and the medicine men are blocking them. You know they always look backward. We'll see the day when…"

  Nick never found out what they would see. Gan Bik ran around the corner of a thick spiked hedge. He gasped out, "Colonel Sudirmat is at the house demanding Muller and the sailor."

  "That's interesting," Nick said. "Relax. Get your breath."

  "But come on. Adam may let him have them."

  Nick said, "Hans — please go up to the house. Get Adam or Ong aside and ask them just to stall Sudirmat for two hours. Get him to take a swim — have lunch — anything."

  "Right." Hans walked swiftly away.

  Gan Bik was shifting his weight from foot to foot, eager and excited.

  "Gan Bik, how many men did Sudirmat bring with him?"

  "Three."

  "Where is the rest of his force?"

  "How did you know he has a force nearby?"

  "Guesswork."

  "It's a good guess. They are at Gimbo, about fifteen miles down the second valley. Sixteen trucks and about a hundred men and two heavy machine guns and an old one-pounder."

  "Nice going. Your scouts are watching them?"

  "Yes."

  "What about attacks from other directions? Sudirmat is no dope."

  "He has two companies on stand-by at Bintho barracks. They can hit us from any of several directions, but we'll know when they leave Bintho and we'll probably know which way they are coming."

  "What have you got for heavy firepower?"

  "A forty-millimeter and three Swedish machine guns. Plento of ammo and explosives for making mines."

  "Your boys have been practicing making mines?"

  Gan Bik struck a fist against a palm. "They enjoy it. Pow!"

  "Have them mine the road from Gimbo at a road block that cannot be taken easily. Hold the rest of your boys in reserve until we hear which way the Bintho detachment may come in."

  "You're sure they'll attack?"

  "Sooner or later they'll have to, if they want their little stuffed shirt back."

  Gan Bik chuckled and trotted off. Nick found Hans with Adam and Ong Tjang and Colonel Sudirmat on the broad veranda. Hans said pointedly, "Nick, you remember the Colonel. Better wash up, old man, we're about to go in to lunch."

  At the big table used by senior guests and Adam's own groups there was a feeling of expectancy. It was broken when Sudirmat said, "Mr. Bard — I came to ask Adam for the two men you brought here from Sumatra."

  "Did you?"

  Sudirmat looked puzzled, as if he had been tossed a rock instead of a ball. "Did I — what?"

  "Did you really? And what did Mr. Machmur say?"

  "He said he must speak to you at luncheon — and here we are."

  "The men are international criminals. I really should turn them in to Djakarta."

  "Oh no, I am the authority here. You should not have moved them out of Sumatra, much less into my area. You are in serious trouble, Mr. Bard. It will cost you a lot of time and expense before this mess is settled. You…"

  "Colonel, you have said enough. I am not releasing the prisoners."

  "Mr. Bard — you are still wearing that pistol." Sudirmat shook his head sadly from side to side. He was shifting the subject, searching for a way to put his man on the defensive. He wanted to dominate the situation — he had heard all about how this Al Bard had fought and killed a man with two knives. And one of Judas' men, at that!

  "Yes, I am." Nick gave him a wide smile. "It gives one a feeling of security and confidence when facing untrustworthy, treacherous, selfish, greedy, perfidious, dishonest colonels." He drawled the words, allowing plenty of time in case their Engl
ish was slow with the exact meanings.

  Sudirmat flushed, straightened in his seat. He was not a complete coward, although most of his personal scores were settled by a sucker shot in the back or a hireling's "Texas Court" — a shotgun from ambush. "Your words are insulting."

  "Not as much as they are factual. You've been working for Judas and double-crossing your own countrymen ever since Judas started his operation."

  Gan Bik entered the room, spotted Nick, and came to him with a note open in his hand. "This just came in."

  Nick nodded to Sudirmat as politely as if they had interrupted a discussion of cricket scores. He read: All departing Gimbo 1250 hours. Preparing leave Bintho.

  Nick smiled up at the lad. "Excellent. Carry on." He let Gan Bik reach the doorway, then called, "Oh, Gan…" Nick got up and hurried after the youth, who stopped and turned. Nick murmured, "Capture his three soldiers that are here."

  "Men are watching them now. Just waiting my order."

  "You don't have to reach me about blocking the Bintho force. When you know their route — block them."

  Gan Bik showed his first sign of worry. "They can bring up a lot more troops. Artillery. How long must we hold them?"

  "Just a few hours — perhaps till tomorrow morning." Nick laughed and patted his shoulder. "You trust me, don't you?"

  "Of course." Gan Bik trotted off and Nick shook his head. First too suspicious — now too trusting. He went back to the table.

  Colonel Sudirmat was saying to Adam and Ong, "My troops will be here shortly. Then we will see who calls names…"

  Nick said: "Your troops have moved out as ordered. And they have been stopped cold. Now speaking of pistols — hand over that popgun on your belt. Hold it with your fingers on the handle."

  Sudirmat's favorite diversion, next to rape, was watching American movies. Westerns were shown every night when he was at his command post. Old ones with Tom Mix and Hoot Gibson — new ones with John Wayne and modern stars who had to be helped onto their horses. But the Indonesians did not know that. Many of them thought that all Americans are cowboys. Sudirmat had practiced his fast draw faithfully — but these Americans were born with guns on them! He carefully passed his Czechoslovakian automatic across the table, holding it lightly between his fingers.