The King is Dead (5 page)

Abel Bendigo walked directly to the desk of the booth. To the Queens' astonishment, he offered his right hand to the central of the three security men. This functionary quickly took an impression of the Prime Minister's thumb while the man to the right whisked an odd-looking card, like a section of X-ray film set in a cardboard frame, from one of a multiplicity of file drawers before him. This film was placed in a small machine on the desk, and the Prime Minister's thumbprint was inserted in the bottom of the machine. The central man looked through an eyepiece carefully. The machine apparently superimposed on the fresh thumbprint the transparent control print on file, in such a way that any discrepancy was revealed at a glance. This was confirmed a few moments later when the Queens' thumbprints were taken and their names recorded.

‘Films of your prints will be ready in a short time,' said Bendigo, ‘and they will go into the control file. No one, not even my brother King, can get into any part of this building without a thumbprint checkup.'

‘But these men certainly know you and your brother!' protested Inspector Queen.

‘Exceptions don't make the rule, Inspector. They break it. Will you step in, gentlemen?'

It was a self-service elevator. It shot upward, and a moment later they preceded their guide into a strange-looking reception room.

It was shaped like a wedge of pie with a bite taken out of its pointed end, the bite being formed by the section of elevator wall giving into the room. They discovered later that the whole pie represented by the floorplan of the dome was composed of three pieces, of which the reception room was the narrowest and smallest. King Bendigo's private office took up half the circle. The third room, for King's staff of private secretaries, and the reception room made up the other half-circle. The elevator had three doors, one to each of the rooms.

The outside wall of the reception room was composed entirely of fluted glass bricks. There were no windows, but the air was cool and sweet.

The room was stark. There were a few functional armchairs of black leather, a low copper table six feet in diameter, a small black desk and chair, and that was all. Not a lamp — the two side walls themselves glowed — not a vase of flowers, not a picture. And no rug on the floor, which was made of some springy material in a black and gold design. There was not even the solace of a loud voice, for no receptionist received them in this queer reception room, and it was so thoroughly soundproofed that a voice could not be heard fifteen feet away.

Abel Bendigo said: ‘My brother is tied up just now.' How he knew this Ellery could not imagine, unless the Prime Minister had memorized his sovereign's schedule for days in advance. ‘It will take —' Bendigo glanced at his wristwatch — ‘another twenty-three minutes. Make yourselves comfortable, gentlemen. Cigarettes and cigars on the table there, and if you'd care for liquid refreshment, there's a cabinet in that wall. And now please excuse me. I was to have sat in at this conference from the beginning. I'll be back for you when King is free.'

There were two doors with conventional knobs in the reception room, one in each of the straight walls. Abel Bendigo slipped through the left-hand door and shut it before either man could catch a glimpse of what lay beyond.

They looked at each other.

‘Alone,' said Ellery, ‘at last.'

‘I wonder.'

‘You wonder what, Dad?'

‘Where it's planted.'

‘Where what's planted?'

‘The ear. Of the listening business. If this is where His Nibs keeps visitors waiting, you don't think he'd pass up the chance to find out what's really on their minds? Ellery, how's this set-up strike you so far?'

‘Incredible.'

The Inspector sank uneasily into one of the black armchairs.

Ellery strolled over to the elevator door. Like the one in the lobby, it had sunk into the floor on their arrival and had risen shut again. The door section fitted so cunningly into the curved shaft wall that it took him a long moment to locate the crack which outlined it.

‘You'd need a nuclear can-opener to get this open.' Ellery went over to the door in the right-hand wall. ‘I wonder where this goes.'

‘Probably an outer office.'

Ellery tried the door; it was locked. ‘For his forty-nine secretaries. Do they wear uniforms, too, I wonder?'

‘I'm more interested in King King. What are the odds he wears ermine?'

‘Nobody trusts anybody around here,' Ellery complained. He was over at the door in the left-hand wall now.

‘Better not,' advised his father. ‘It might open.'

‘No such luck.' Ellery was right; the door to King Bendigo's office, through which they had seen Abel hurry, was fast. ‘Sealed in, that's what we are. Like a couple of damned anchovies.'

The Inspector did not smile. ‘We're a long way from Eighty-seventh Street, son.'

‘Stiff upper.' But the quip did not amuse even its author.

Ellery surveyed the small black desk. It was of heavy metal, screwed to the floor. Its empty swivel chair, of the same metal, faced the smooth cylindrical section of the elevator.

‘I wonder why the receptionist isn't here.'

‘Maybe he had to go to the men's room.'

‘I doubt if the Bendigo code recognizes hand-washing as a legitimate excuse for dereliction of duty. Besides,' Ellery tried a few drawers, ‘the desk is locked. No, here's a drawer that isn't.' It was the bottom drawer, a deep one.

His father saw him stare, then drop into the chair. ‘What is it?'

‘Dictaphonic gadget of some sort.' Ellery was doubled over. ‘Of a type new to me. I wonder if …' There was a
click!
and a faint whirring sound. Ellery whistled softly. ‘Do you suppose this can be hooked up to the big boy's office?'

The inspector jumped out of the armchair. ‘Careful, son!'

‘He'd want records of private talks. Too bad we won't have the chance to lift the record of the one that's going on in there right now —'

‘—
over-excited. Sit down, Mr. Minister.'

The easy male voice boomed in their ears. The Queens whirled. But, except for themselves, the reception room was empty.

‘The machine,' whispered the Inspector, ‘Ellery, what did you touch?'

‘Does double duty.' The voice had not resumed, but the whirring sound continued. ‘Records the sound, but the pressure of something here amplifies the sound simultaneously — Here it is! You have to keep your finger on this stud.'

The man with the easy voice was laughing. It was the laugh of a big man. It filled the room like a wind.

‘—
no climate for temper, Mr. Minister. Abel, help Señor Minister to a chair.'

‘Yes, King.'
Abel's voice.

‘Bendigo the First,' whispered the Inspector.

‘Are you all right?'
The easy voice was amused.

‘Thank you.'
This was a bubbly voice with a strong South American accent, struggling to control its fear and anger. ‘
It is difficult to remain calm, my dear sir, when one has been abducted by brigands from one's home in the middle of the night and spirited out of one's country by an unlawful foreign aircraft!'

‘It was necessary to have a private conversation within walls whose ears we could trust, Mr. Minister. We regret the inconvenience to you.'

‘Regret! Do not trifle with me. This is kidnapping, and you may be very sure I shall make an international incident of it, with the strongest possible representations to your government!'

‘My government? Just where do you think you are?'
The voice was still amused, but a power-switch had been flicked on.

‘I will not be intimidated!'
The foreign voice was shouting now. ‘
I know very well what you are after, Señor King Bendigo. We have access at last to the secret files of the defunct régime. The new government, which I have the great honour to serve as Minister of War, will not be so complaisant, I promise you! We shall confiscate the Guerrerra works under the powers vested in El Presidente by the National Resources Decree of the fourteenth May, and we will have no dealings with The Bodigen Arms Company or any other of your creature subsidiaries, Señor!'

Thunder smote the machine in the receptionist's desk.

‘Smacked something, His Majesty did,' whispered Inspector Queen.

‘Let's hope it wasn't Señor Minister of War.'

‘You miserable anteater —!' It was a bellow
.

‘Anteater?'
screamed the foreign voice. ‘
You insult, you insult! I demand to be flown back to Ciudad Zuma immediately!'

‘Sit down! How much of this drivel do you think I'm going to stand
—' The growl stopped. Then the powerful voice said impatiently, ‘
Yes, Abel. What is it?'

There was a long silence.

‘The sweet
sotto voce
of reason,' murmured Ellery. ‘Or Abel's passed him a note.'

They heard King Bendigo laugh again. This time the voice said smoothly, ‘
Forgive me for losing my temper, Señor. Believe me, I respect the position of your government even though it is hostile to our interests. But there are no viewpoints — no matter how opposing, Mr. Minister — which can't be reconciled.'

‘Impossible!'
The angry voice registered several decibels fewer.

‘To establish a private cordiality, Mr. Minister? Known, let us say, only to us and to you?'

‘There is nothing more to be said!'
But now it was merely fuming.

‘Well, Abel, it looks as though we're in for a licking.'

Abel murmured something; the words did not come through.

‘Unless, Mr. Minister, you don't quite see how
…
Let me ask you: Did your predecessor in the War Ministry manage to salvage his yacht in the revolution, Señor?'

‘She saved the traitor's life
,' said the foreign voice stiffly. ‘
He made his escape in her.'

‘Oh, yes. You must have admired her, Señor — your enthusiasm for pleasure craft is well known. And she's one hundred and twenty feet of sheer poetry, as my brother Judah would say. Did say.'

‘She was beautiful
.' The War Minister spoke in the wistful, bitter way of the lover who has lost. ‘
Had the swine not got to her in time
…
But I presume on your schedule Señor King —'

‘Her sister is yours.'

There was a silence.

‘She's identical in every respect, Mr. Minister, except that her designer tells me she's even faster. And speed in a ship is a quality not to be despised, Señor, as your predecessor discovered. Who knows? The politics of your country tend to be somewhat unstable —'

‘Señor, you bribe me!'
the Minister of War replied indignantly. But it was not as if he were really surprised. His tone had a flinch in it. ‘
I thank you for your gift, Señor King Bendigo, but I repudiate it with scorn. Now I wish to leave.'

‘Good boy,' breathed the Inspector. ‘He made it.'

‘After a bit of a tussle,' grinned Ellery. ‘Ah, there's Abel calling time again. Conference in the box. Do they pitch to the Señor or pass him?'

‘Here it comes!'

‘Gift?'
came the dark, rich voice. ‘
Who said anything about a gift, Mr. Minister? I had something quite legal in mind.'

‘Legal …?'

‘I'm offering her for sale.'

The harassed man laughed. ‘
At a discount of five per cent, perhaps, because we are such cordial friends, Señor? This is absurdity. I am not a wealthy man —'

‘I'm sure you can afford this, Mr. Minister.'

‘I am sure I cannot!'

‘Don't you have twenty-five dollars?'

There was a very long silence indeed.

‘Struck him out,' said the Inspector.

‘I believe, Señor Bendigo
,' said the foreign voice, and for the first time it was without heat or distress, ‘
that would make a bargain I could not afford to ignore. I shall purchase your yacht for twenty-five dollars!

‘Our agent will call on you in Ciudad Zuma next Friday, Mr. Minister, with the bill of sale and the other documents necessary for your signature. Needless to say, the other documents are equally important to the transfer of title.'

‘Needless to say.'
The foreign voice stopped for an instant, then went on amiably: ‘
Love of the sea is in the blood of my family. I have a son in the Naval Ministry, Señor Bendigo, who is also an ardent yachtsman. There will be no difficulty about the other documents, none whatever, if you will sell me also the eighty-foot
Atalanta IV,
which has only recently, I believe, come off your ways. Possession of such a prize would make my son Cristoforo a happy young man. At the same purchase price, of course.'

‘You have a nose for bargains, Mr. Minister
,' said King Bendigo gently.

‘I also keep them, my friend.'

‘Take care of it, Abel.'

After a moment, they heard a door open and close.

‘And I mean a nose
,' came King Bendigo's growl. ‘
How good an investment is that sucker, Abel?'

‘He's the intellectual strong man of the Zuma régime.'

‘He'd better stay that way! Who's next?'

‘The E-10 matter.'

‘The mouth-twitcher? I thought that was settled, Abel.'

‘It isn't?

‘The trouble with the world today is that it has too many little crooks running it under the delusion that they're big crooks! All they do is shoot the cost of history higher — they don't change the result a damn. Send him in.'