Operation Malacca (8 page)

Ìn advance – from the Department of Defense, and I want to see a cable from my bank before I move.

Ì'll be damned ...'

`Pay the fee, General. I don't blame him a bit,' Rawingson said again. 'DOD can settle with SEATO later.'

Out of the corner of his eye, Keilty could see that the others were regarding him quizzically, and he grinned carefully at Phillips.

Ì'll be damned . . .' Phillips ejaculated again. He then stood up. At the hatch, he turned to stare at Keilty, who did not even turn around. When the hatch slammed shut, both Keilty and Rawingson laughed uproariously.

The meeting dragged on into the late afternoon. Keilty was briefed on the situation by both Hallan and Hutchins. The two had been working together steadily for the past few years since Saigon and with it all of South Vietnam and later Cambodia had fallen to the Communists. Between them, they had amassed an immense amount of data.

Hutchins had specialized in the Vietnamese armed forces. The Vietnamese navy consisted in the main of a conglomeration of outdated craft; former South Vietnamese riverine and coastal patrol craft, six destroyers – two of them lately purchased from the Soviet Union – and three mine sweepers. The rest were miscellaneous vintage French and American motor torpedo boats. Their air force again was built mainly on French equipment – mostly propeller driven left over from the colonial days and more up-to-date captured American F-5's and helicopters and some new Migs, again from the Soviet Union and lately brought south from bases around Hanoi. The biggest addition had been the new SAM series of anti-aircraft missiles and ground facilities.

Hallan finished up, 'they really have us as far as defending their turf goes. Outside their boundaries, nothing. I think we could probably talk the Malaysians and Indonesians into dealing with them alone but for the fact that they seem to be playing with a heavy hand.

You just can't persuade anyone to argue with nuclear missiles.'

Keilty sat silently, chewing on his knuckle and staring at the Gauguin. He was beginning to feel a little homesick for his peaceful Key, and Margaritta – especially Margaritta.

Silently he cursed Rawingson for dragging him into this mess to begin with.

'So,' he growled, 'where does the submarine come in?'

`That's what we would like to know,' Hutchins answered sardonically. 'I doubt if there are thirty people in the entire Vietnamese Government and military establishment who know that it is there.' He paused a moment to stare at the backs of his hands. 'Perhaps they feel backed into a corner or maybe they still figure they can pull it out. The Vietnamese have never given a damn for quote, world opinion, unquote. They know they can always twist their underdog position around to justify just about any action they decide to undertake.'

'Hell, it doesn't stand to reason,' Keilty interrupted, 'that they will use the bombs on Singapore. The island will be absolutely no use to them if it's a mass of radioactive rubble. They need the naval yard, the airfields, the launching and harbor facilities, and most of the trade.'

'Precisely,' Collins put in. 'My own feeling in the matter is that they will use one or two of the bombs to create the tidal wave, still, in the strait. It would certainly he a lot easier for them than if they had to fight it out with our fleet to clear the channel. And there is only an even chance they would win. Either that . . .' And he paused for effect. . or they will use them to threaten our allies in this area — nuclear blackmail, in other words.'

A knock sounded on the hatch, and Phillips stepped into the cabin and resumed his seat.

'Damned nonsense. I had to speak to the Joint Chiefs to get your advance fee paid, but you will have it tomorrow. Now, how much?'

`Two hundred thousand,' Keilty stated flatly. Phillips reddened, but Rawingson said mildly, 'Pay it.'

'You'll get the cable tomorrow,' Phillips choked.

'Fine,' Keilty said. 'Then we can continue tomorrow.'

Keilty said good-bye to Rawingson at the end of the gangway and walked slowly along the pier to the gate. The gray and blue camouflage of the Vigilant towered over him, bristling with uncovered, action-ready antiaircraft guns. Keilty stopped to stare at the cruiser, noting the covered cylindrical shapes of guided missiles and launchers where the four main turrets had once been located. She looked sleek and deadly.

He was passed through the gate, and pushed his way through the crowds of Australian sailors waiting for rides into the city. The cab drew up in front of the U.S. Military Mission and Keilty, well known by now, was ushered right in by the marine guards. He wandered down the hall to the swimming pool, nodded to the guard, and walked in.

His footsteps echoed from the high brick walls as he walked to the edge of the pool's deep end. The pool was twelve feet deep and nearly fifty meters long, lined with white tile. Like the building, it had been constructed before the war in the mid-thirties, and bore the unmistakable stamp of that period's British military architecture.

Keilty sat down on the lowest row of the bleacher seats that lined the two long walls.

Charlie, lying comfortably near the bottom, was completely engrossed in a TV program.

Through the shimmering water, Keilty could see that it was one of the soap operas, piped in by satellite from Honolulu for the edification of military wives in the Southeast Asian area.

He watched the dolphin for a few moments, rising and sinking slowly in front of the plastic-boxed receiver. Finally he tossed a quarter into the water, directly above Charlie.

The dolphin snapped around and shot to the surface, catching the falling quarter in his beak as he did so. He broke the surface, saw Keilty, and swam over to the edge of the pool and tossed the quarter to him.

Keilty pocketed the coin, and grinning, hooked up the transphonemator resting on the diving board.

'Hi, boss,' Charlie grinned, showing double rows of wolfish teeth.

'Hi, yourself. What've you been doing?'

Charlie backed off and jumped half onto the sloping edge that had been rigged for him.

'Not too much of anything. What the devil can you do in a lousy swimming pool? Say, did you know they have Jack LaLane out here?'

'Figures,' Keilty said. 'So they ...'

'I found out that I'm getting fat. According to Jack LaLane, if you sit around doing nothing all day with no exercise, you're not going to burn up carbohydrates, and carbohydrates turn into fat.'

'Dolphins don't sit,' Keilty reminded him. He hunched down next to the pool. 'If it's getting fat you're worried about, I have just the thing in mind that will trim you down to a slim torpedo shape again. How about that?'

`How about what?' The dolphin's voice coming through the transphonemator had a distinctly suspicious tone to it. 'What's this one going to be, another wild adventure?

When the hell do we go home, anyway?'

`What do you mean, go home? All you're worried about is that plane ride.'

`So?'

`So this. The big boys are in trouble again and it seems they need our help.'

`More bombs, I bet.' Charlie looked up at Keilty, staring directly into his eyes. Keilty was slowly learning to read the dolphin's expressions, but this one puzzled him.

`What's the matter?' he asked.

'I thought that we already helped them twice. They said that if we found the bomb for them, we could go back and they would leave us alone.'

`So they did, and we still can, but it looks as if the job was only half done. If we finish it, it means a heck of a lot of money, and with it, we can really get things rolling.'

The dolphin looked slightly puzzled. 'How do you mean half finished? I found the bomb for them all right, didn't I?'

`Yep. But they have more than one. There is a submarine somewhere out there.' He lowered his voice carefully. 'It's loaded with four guided missiles with nuclear bombs in them, and they want us to help them find it.'

Charlie slid halfway back into the water and slapped his tail. 'Is that all?' he almost chuckled. 'Why didn't you say so. There's no problem there.'

`No problem, what the devil are you talking about? Do you realize how much water there is . . . ?'

`Wait,' Charlie interrupted. 'I said it would he no problem because I know where the submarine is.'

Keilty almost fell off his heels in surprise. 'What?' he shouted. 'Where, for God's sake?

How come you didn't tell me about it before?'

Charlie looked somewhat sheepish — no mean trick for a dolphin. 'I forgot. It was on the way back from the station. I was taking a last look round and I spotted something at the base of one of the islands. It took me a while to figure out what it was, but I'm sure it's a submarine.'

Keilty stood up and paced back and forth along the edge of the pool for several minutes, hands in his pockets and shoulders hunched in concentration. Finally he settled back down by the

microphone. Charlie, who had been keeping pace with him, flopped back on the board.

'It could be a sub or even a surface ship sunk in the last war.' He paused for a while. 'Can you describe it?' he asked finally.

`Not too well. I had only a three-quarter view. It looked like a submarine that I had once seen, and it was resting on the bottom, perfectly upright.

Keilty listened to the whirring of the transphonemator, staring absent-mindedly at the dolphin all the while. 'It could be,' he said finally. 'It's more than worth checking out anyway – do you think you can find it again?'

Charlie answered slowly, 'Of course, only ..

Ònly what?' Keilty prompted. The dolphin said nothing, staring down at the board beneath his head. Finally he raised his head and looked at Keilty. 'Will this be the last time?'

Keilty saw what was troubling him and suddenly felt ashamed. He patted the dolphin's rough, bony head.

'This whole fiasco has been pretty rough on you, hasn't it?' He paused, searching for the right words.

`Look, Charlie, don't feel that you have to do this. Say no, and I'll tell them to go find their own God-damned submarine.' He stopped, at a loss to say more. He knew exactly what Charlie was feeling, or at least thought he did. Charlie had not wanted to become involved in human affairs, political or otherwise. The close bond was between the dolphin and himself, not between the dolphin and the West, or the human race, or any other part of it, but with him only. He refused to put it on the basis of a personal favor again. While he crouched on the edge of the pool, stroking the dolphin's sand-papery flank, he determined to say no flatly if Charlie refused. Charlie and he were not on terms of master and servant. Keilty considered Charlie as much a personal friend as he considered Weston a personal friend, and he was damned if he would change that relationship for anything.

The dolphin quivered slightly under his hand and slowly let his nine-and-a-half-foot length slide back into the pool.

Àw, what the hell?' he said suddenly. 'If it will get me out of this tank, let's do it.'

`Thanks, Charlie,' Keilty said sincerely. 'Now, where is that sub?'

CHAPTER NINE

It was after 6 p.m. before Keilty got back to the hotel. He threaded his way through the crowds of people – a good many of them in the uniform of one country or another –filling the lobby. He waited impatiently for the elevator. The hotel's air conditioning was hard put to keep up with the humid heat of the pre-monsoon season, and even in his light clothes, he was wringing wet. All he wanted was a cool shower, a cold drink, dinner, and bed.

The elevator doors glided open softly and he stepped inside. 'Nine,' he said to the boy at the controls, and the doors closed softly. He leaned back against the plastic-walnut paneling and closed his eyes gratefully for a moment. When he opened them, he found he was staring into the dark muzzle of a 9 mm Walther. The muzzle was close enough for him to see the rifling grooves inside the barrel. He stood stock still, not changing his position an inch, except for the movement of his eyes.

The elevator boy had turned his back and was carefully examining the Otis Elevator sign.

Behind the gun was a man with Chinese features – less than thirty, he judged – wearing a green uniform with a tag reading Wan Fin Delivery Service. Directly behind him, with a pistol pointing at Keilty's midriff, was an older man – a Caucasian, he thought, and then realized the man was probably Eurasian.

For a long moment they said nothing. The elevator passed the third floor.

'Don't you think this is overdoing it,' Keilty asked, the attempt at humor not quite coining off, as his mouth was suddenly dry.

'How is that?' the Eurasian asked politely.

'Pointing a gun at my face in a Singapore elevator.' Keilty tried to grin, but that didn't work either.

'I see,' the other answered. 'Well, perhaps Alan Ladd will appear on the scene. I am sure that if we were Japanese, he would.' The man smiled again, then his face tightened almost imperceptibly. 'Please do not make a move. We would be very sorry to have to kill you.

The elevator stopped at the ninth floor and both men put their guns out of sight, the man in the delivery uniform shoving his in a jacket pocket. The doors slid aside and a neatly dressed couple stepped in.

British tourists, from the way they were dressed in formal evening clothes. The Eurasian nodded to the blonde woman and her escort, saying 'Good evening.' He stepped out of the elevator and Keilty followed, the uniform right behind him. They walked down the blue-carpeted hall to Keilty's suite.

`What a shame,' Keilty said. 'Forgot to pick up my key at the desk.'

`Don't worry.' The Eurasian produced a passkey. He unlocked the door and Keilty was pushed inside.

He spun around, but both guns were on him instantly and he straightened slowly from his crouch.

'I wouldn't advise you

A muffled Òhh . . sounded from the door leading into the bedroom. The three men looked around to see a lovely Chinese girl clutch a short kimono to herself and stare at them with wide eyes. She saw the guns and tried to step back out of the doorway. A sharp word in Chinese stopped her, and she came slowly out of the bedroom.

Keilty rolled his eyes up in supplication and sat down on the edge of a bookcase. The girl was his date from the night before. He watched her cross the room hesitatingly, long legs shown to good advantage beneath the kimono which did nothing to hide a beautiful figure. Her hair, hanging shoulder length and cut evenly across the back, matched almost perfectly the muted brown of her almond-shaped eyes.

She stared at him in fright and he spread his hands in helplessness.

'A complication, a very bad complication,' the Eurasian rasped. The Chinese gunman fired a question at her in Chinese and she answered slowly, then bit off a single word. He was across the room in two steps and slapped her hard on the face. The blow cracked like a pistol shot. Keilty lunged off the bookcase and caught the Eurasian's gun butt behind the ear before he had taken a step. He went down hard, his head a mass of exploding lights.

Through the haze that swirled in his head, he could hear questions being put to the girl in Chinese. He tried to get to his knees, but the blow on the head seemed to have drained his strength completely. There were more slaps and muffled screams. Then he felt hands go under his arms, lifting him into a chair.

His head was beginning to clear somewhat. He opened his eyes and the room swam sickeningly for a moment. Keilty finally managed to focus his eyes on the figure of the Eurasian, perched on the arm of the couch. Keilty noticed that the Eurasian had attached a silencer to his .38 S&W Police Special.

He heard a slap and turned to see the Chinese girl lying on the floor, face cradled in her arms.

`Tell your bully boy,' Keilty said dangerously, 'that if he touches her once more, I'll break his back.'

`Your heroics are a bit late,' the other laughed. 'We are already quite finished with her.'

Keilty did not like the emphasis on the 'quite finished'.

`Who is she?' the Eurasian asked.

Keilty put a hand to the side of his head, gingerly massaging the spot where the gun had struck him. 'She's a friend.' `Her name, please?'

'Why?'

`Curiosity, more than anything else. She is a complication as I said before. I would like to know her name.

Keilty glanced at her, still lying on the rug. She raised her head 'to look at him, and he could see the red marks of the slaps and a darkening bruise at the outer edge of her left eye. There were no traces of tears. She was frightened but trying desperately not to show it. He smiled at her, then shifted his glance to the Chinese with the Walther. The man said nothing, but his eyes said it for him. The Chinese smiled and rubbed his hand along the stubby barrel.

`Her name is Tina,' he said, turning back to the Eurasian. `Her last name, please.'

Ì don't know,' Keilty answered. 'We only met last night.'

Ì see,' thoughtfully. He brought the gun to bear directly on Keilty's face.

`Her last name,' he said harshly.

Keilty stared at the muzzle and burst into laughter. 'You stupid jerk. You kidnap me in an elevator, haul me in here, find her, then threaten to shoot me if I don't tell you the last name of a girl I only met last night. You don't expect me to believe that, do you?'

The Eurasian grinned sheepishly. I don't. You are more intelligent than you appear, Dr.

Keilty, in spite of the Ph.D. following your name.'

`So, you know my name.

`Yes we do. We know quite a bit about you, in fact . . .' The telephone buzzed softly and he picked it up, listened for a moment, then said, 'Five minutes,' and hung up.

'Get her clothes,' he said to the Chinese. Then to Keilty, 'We are going to take a short taxi ride. I am sure that you will find yourself treated as an honored guest when we arrive ...

if you co-operate.'

The Chinese came back into the room and dumped an armload of feminine clothing on the floor next to the girl. He spoke harshly in Chinese and stepped back as she got gracefully to her feet and began to slip into the clothes. He turned away, grimacing, to cover Keilty while the Eurasian quietly watched the girl dress. Keilty laughed shortly at the Chinese and laughed louder when he stepped forward, face an angry red.

The Eurasian handed Tina a comb, an unexpected gesture, until Keilty realized it might attract attention if they went through the lobby with her hair awry. It would be bad enough with the swelling eye. The Eurasian stepped into the bedroom and came back with her purse. He opened it and dumped its contents on the table, and tossed her compact to her.

'My, my, how dangerous.' He held up a black-handled tube and touched a stud. A stiletto-thin blade sprang forward with a quiet swish. He placed the tip of the blade against the coffee table glass, shoved it back into the handle, and pocketed the knife. The purse held nothing else but the usual make-up, scarf, money, etc., and he shoved the contents back into the bag and tossed it across the room to her.

'Now listen to me, both of you,' he said, his voice harsh. 'We are going down to the lobby and into the first cab at the head of the line. My associate here will go ahead of us and wait at the front doors until we have gone through. He will follow in the second cab.

'You, Dr. Keilty, will take, ah . . . Tina's left arm, and I, her right. You are both to smile and make small talk.

'And, Dr. Keilty, please do not think that you are so valuable to us that we would hesitate to shoot you – and of course, first we shall kill the young lady. Do you understand?'

Keilty nodded and the Eurasian motioned the Chinese out. He went with a backward glance of pure hatred at Keilty, and the door closed softly.

The Eurasian noticed. 'I would not advise riding Mr. Lee, Dr. Keilty. He is a pathological killer. He obeys me only because I control his heroin supply.' He motioned Keilty to his feet and slipped the gun into his jacket pocket. With his hand in the pocket, it looked completely normal, no more bulge than his hand would normally have caused. A real professional, Keilty thought.

He took Tina's hand and put it under his arm, giving it a brief squeeze. She smiled weakly, but the fear was still large in her eyes.

They waited for the elevator, and when it came, the same boy was still at the controls. He paid them no more attention than he would to a normal passenger. Keilty was thoughtful all the way down.

They walked into the spacious modem lobby, full of elegantly styled Danish furniture, and cheerily carpeted with a deep gold rug.

Keilty caught sight of the Chinese, standing at the Pan American reservations counter, talking with a clerk and apparently paying the three no attention. Keilty paused, but the Eurasian dropped Tina's right arm and stepped away. 'Don't try anything, Dr. Keilty.

Look over there by the cigarette counter.'

Keilty glanced over. Two men, Chinese, were standing together, apparently deep in conversation. They were well dressed and appeared to be businessmen, but the one facing them was staring past the other's shoulder – at them.

'In the lobby of the Hilton?'

'Yes, Dr. Keilty. You and the young lady will both be dead, and I will be gone before you drop to the floor.'

`Not very valuable, am I?' he said, glancing around. He felt Tina's hand tighten on his arm.

'On the contrary, you are more valuable to us alive. But, if we have to kill you, well ...'

'Okay, I see your point.'

They walked forward to the doors, and the Chinese gunman, just turning away from the Pan Am counter, held open the door for them and stopped just outside and lit a cigarette as they went down the broad steps and climbed into the cab that came up to meet them.

The cab drove off, and as they rounded the curb towards the boulevard, Keilty could see the Chinese getting into another cab. He settled back, wondering what the devil was next.

The Eurasian had his gun out and was sitting with his back to the door, the gun steady against the girl's side. The cab driver, peering into the rear-view mirror from time to time, held the cab to the speed limit. He headed down the

boulevard to the main part of the city, expertly dodging other cabs, cars, and pedestrians.

At a stoplight, Keilty had a chance to look around at the brilliantly lit main section of Singapore. The city had surprised him with its cleanliness. The streets were scrubbed down by water trucks early every morning and an army of sweepers kept the streets spotless during the day. Lining either side of the boulevard as far as he could see were Western-style shops lit with neon, making it look more like London or New York than one of the largest cities in the Orient.

The cab started forward again and the girl huddled closer. Instinctively he put his arm around her shoulder, and the gun muzzle jammed into his ribs. He stiffened.

`Do not do that again,' the Eurasian hissed. 'Remove your arm.'

The cab driver leaned back to say something at the same time, and the Eurasian bent slightly forward to hear, just as the girl moved her shoulder.

Keilty, almost without thinking, shoved the girl with his right arm, pushing the pistol forward. The gun went off and the bullet whipped through a fold of his shirt. He grabbed the gun with his left hand and twisted. The girl leaning forward on the Eurasian's arm hampered his movements long enough for Keilty to uncork a vicious short right against his ear.

The pistol came loose. He reversed it and fired point-blank into the white face, then he jammed the gun against the driver's neck.

`Keep driving,' he said steadily, 'or you'll lose the back of your head.' He glanced quickly at the Eurasian lying slumped almost to the floor. A thin trickle of blood gleamed from the bullet hole under his left eye. Keilty pulled Tina back into the seat with his free hand and gave her a brief grin.

Leaning forward, `Do you speak English?'

The driver shrugged and glanced into the mirror. Keilty took a quick look out the back window. The second cab had dropped back a bit and was now pulling around to fall in behind. The driver slowed for the stoplight ahead and Keilty rolled down the side window.

`Tina, tell him to pull over to the outside lane and stop for the light.

The girl leaned forward and repeated in Chinese. Keilty jammed the muzzle against his head again.

'He will do it. I told him you would kill him quickly if he didn't.'

'Good girl' He bent over her and found the knife in the dead man's pocket.

The cab drew up to the left, and as Keilty had hoped, the other cab stopped beside them.

He pressed the girl down into the seat and huddled back against the door frame. The Chinese peered over, startled at the apparently empty back seat, and pulled the door of his cab open, gun in hand.

Keilty leaned forward and shot him twice. He was halfway out of the cab, gun partly raised. The expression of disbelief washing over his face stopped instantly. His hand opened and the gun dropped from it. He folded after it.

'Move! ' Keilty yelled, and the driver jammed the accelerator, screaming around tl e corner, narrowly missing a large military truck. The cab shot down the street and around a second corner. Ahead, the street emptied into Raffles Square, the center of metropolitan Singapore. Keilty had the driver skirt the northern edge of the square, then drive off onto a side street and from there back onto a narrow avenue one block from the boulevard. The cab pulled up to the curb, facing the main rear entrance to a large department store.