Spy Killer (4 page)

CHAPTER THREE

The Confession

W
HEN
a man spends a month in jail, he is ready for anything, even murder. And murder was to be the task of Kurt Reid.

The first week he spent worrying. No one came to see him, no one advised him of the exact nature of his arrest, he heard nothing of the two strange women who had indirectly caused his incarceration.

A man can find a great deal to worry about when he is confronted with four yellowish walls and when the scurrying rats forbid his sleep. He was unable to pry information out of his black-uniformed guard.

In the second week he began to suspect the Russian Varinka Savischna. At the end of ten days he received a short note via the one window of the cell.

Kurt Reid;

I have tried to find out about your case, but I am afraid to take my information to the authorities, fearing that the affair aboard the
Rangoon
would also be brought against you. I have tried to bribe Lin Wang, but he will have nothing of it, saying that you are an enemy of China. If fate brings you back to me, I promise that our next meeting will be far better than the last.

Anne Carsten

There was some slight solace to that, and he found himself looking forward to seeing the girl—if and when—he ever got out. He began to dwell upon her beauty, upon the kindness of her eyes. He realized, then, that this was the girl he had always hoped to meet. His luck to meet her when he had to depart so abruptly. Sailor’s luck!

He could not fathom Lin Wang’s determination to keep him away from the Shanghai authorities. The fact was ominous. If Lin Wang merely wanted to do away with Kurt Reid, it would be more quickly done over the bar of justice—God knew that Justice had enough against the bucko mate.

He tried to piece together all he knew about Lin Wang, but that did him little good. Lin Wang was a general of high repute, shouting for China’s freedom and waving flags and putting up a great show. China’s traitors, so boasted Lin Wang, did not live long at the hands of his picked executioners, the Death Squad.

Lin Wang had long called down the ancient curses upon the head of invading Japan.

But Kurt Reid had no definite answer and when the month was out, curiosity overcame the fear of his first meeting with Lin Wang.

The soldiers in black came one morning and led him away. Between their files he was not much to look upon. His clothes were dirty and worn, he needed a shave, his hair was long and unkempt, but he walked with erect head and something of arrogance in his stride. He was thrust through the door of a small hut and made to sit in a chair against the wall. Men passed ropes through his arms and about his body and lashed him there.

For an hour he waited and then, amid great clamor, the door was flung back and Lin Wang came in.

One glance at the man sent a shudder of repulsion through Kurt. Lin Wang was small, hunched to one side, with a twisted back. He did not seem to have any neck muscles; his head sat rigidly upon his shoulders, pulled to one side. His face was deeply pocked, covered with yellowish scales which might come from some leprosy. Several great wrinkles lay like old scars against the cruel visage like ravines in a relief map. The wrinkles were filled with ancient poisonous dirt.

Lin Wang’s hands were held up from his body as though he could not drop them. The fingers dangled limply, fleshless and thin, clattering nervelessly when Lin Wang moved.

But the eyes were the worst. They were not black, they were an unhealthy, mud blue color, like bichloride of mercury. The lids were half lowered over the protruding pupils.

“Kurt Reid, isn’t it?” said Lin Wang with a rattle in his voice.

Kurt drew back a little and said nothing.

“Ah, so you do not like to look at me. No one likes to look at Lin Wang. But for all my looks, women sometimes smile. Could you smile, bucko mate, watching a beheading sword?”

“I’m laughing out loud,” said Kurt, teeth displayed by his taut upper lip. “What do you want with me?”

“I will show you that, but first allow me to ask you a question.” Lin Wang settled himself behind the crude desk and popped three black opium pills into his mouth, lowering his hands and letting the clattering fingers droop, eyeing Kurt with a twisted glance.

“You are very good-looking,” commented Lin Wang. “The women, I presume, love a man as good-looking as you. Perhaps Anne Carsten, for instance. I have a feeling that it might give me pleasure to spoil those handsome features of yours, Kurt Reid, but nevermind, perhaps that will come later.”

“What’s the idea of bringing me here?” demanded Kurt. “You could have saved yourself the trouble by tipping off the officials over in the Foreign Concessions.”

“Ah, you refer to that incident aboard the
Rangoon,
eh? With regard to that, Kurt Reid, allow me to state that I have gone to no little trouble for you. I have solved the murder aboard the
Rangoon
.”

“What the hell?”

“You see? We might even be friends. But tell me, are you the Kurt Reid who spent his life here in China and Japan? Was your father a certain Frank Reid, a soldier of no little reputation?”

“That’s right.”

“I had hoped that I would not be in error. Then you speak several dialects of Chinese and Japanese as well?”

“I do,” said Kurt.

“And you’re the bucko mate with the quick temper?”

“I suppose so.”

“Very well,” said Lin Wang, with an air of finality. He turned to the black-uniformed Yang, captain of the Death Squad. “Bring that seaman in here, Captain Yang.”

Yang’s great bulk filled the doorway as he went out. Presently a hulking seaman was goaded through the door at the point of bayonets. The man was thick of body and small-headed. His face was unclean, and matted dark hair clung stickily to his half-naked body.

“Bonner!” exclaimed Kurt Reid, recognizing one of the
Rangoon
’s seamen.

“Bonner is right,” said Lin Wang. “Then my men were not in error. I might mention, Kurt Reid, that I had a friend in the crew of the
Rangoon
who was willing to sell me this information at a price.”

Bonner glowered at Lin Wang, and then saw Kurt Reid. He growled a curse and said, “What the hell do you want with me?”

Lin Wang smiled and the chasms in his face opened. A thin scale dropped from his face and he picked it up from the desk, breaking it with his finger nails.

“Bonner,” said Lin Wang. “I believe you murdered the captain of the
Rangoon
and took a few things from the safe. My men found those things in your baggage when you jumped ship in Hong Kong.”

“So that’s where they went! Well, listen, yellow-belly—”

“I am doing the talking,” said Lin Wang. “If you care to give me a written confession, you can remain alive. Otherwise—”

“Go to hell,” said Bonner.

“Yang,” said Lin Wang, “pin his body in a chair and bring me a pair of pliers. Any pair of pliers will do.”

Bonner swore, but strong hands bent him into the chair and strong ropes held him down. He tried to twist free, but the black-uniformed men were stronger.

The pliers came. Kurt Reid watched with wide open eyes. Lin Wang rattled the metal in his shaking hand.

“Spread out his fingers,” said Lin Wang, smiling.

Yang spread the man’s hand flat against the arm of the seat. Lin Wang’s smile broadened. The muddy blue eyes lighted up. A desire of cruelty, heightened by the fact that he was a crossbreed between some unknown race and Chinese, made Lin Wang chuckle.

The pliers swept down with a click and fastened upon Bonner’s index fingernail. The pliers jerked back, blood spouted. Lin Wang dropped the nail to the floor.

Bonner writhed and turned white, moaning through set lips. Lin Wang ripped out another fingernail. Bonner screamed.

“Will you sign that confession?” said Lin Wang.

“No!” roared Bonner.

The pliers came down slowly this time. Bonner flinched. Lin Wang smiled and jerked back. Once more the pliers descended.

“I’ll sign!” cried Bonner.

The pliers came down slowly this time. Bonner flinched.
Lin Wang smiled and jerked back. . . .
“I’ll sign!” cried Bonner.

They unfastened his right hand and slid a board under his arm. They thrust a pen between his shaking fingers. From his left hand blood dripped slowly to the floor.

Bonner wrote what Lin Wang dictated.

I, George Bonner, do hereby confess to the murder of Captain Randolph for the purposes of robbery aboard the SS
Rangoon
off the Coast of China. I murdered Captain Randolph with a belaying pin, crushing his skull, found the combination to the safe among his papers and extracted the loot. On request, the money and certificates are waiting at the shop of Loi Chung—Nanking Road.

Signed: George Bonner
Witness: Yang Ch’ieu

Lin Wang read the paper over, watched by Bonner’s pain-deadened eyes.

“You did kill him, didn’t you?” said Lin Wang, affably.

Bonner gave him a sick nod.

Lin Wang reached into his desk and extracted a German automatic pistol. “Any prayers, my good Bonner?”

“Jesus! You’re not going to—”

The concussion of the shot boomed through the small room. Blue smoke eddied about Bonner’s chair. Lin Wang fired again. Bonner slumped, a bullet between his eyes.

“Take him out,” said Lin Wang with an airy wave of his dangling hand. He blew the smoke out of the muzzle and placed the automatic back in his desk.

“This confession,” said Lin Wang, “is valid and perfectly satisfactory to authorities. Had I turned you over to them, they might have cleared you and that would have been that. But now, Kurt Reid . . . ”

“What’s your game?” demanded Kurt.

“Game? That suggests hunting, doesn’t it? Then, Kurt Reid you are going hunting.”

“You’re insane!”

“Of course,” said Lin Wang. “I find it most pleasant. You are supposed to be a fighter and you can get by where a Chinese could not. This confession I keep here with me, in my jacket. When you have killed your game, bring back its scalp and you shall have the confession.”

“You mean I’ve got to buy that with murder?”

“Precisely, Kurt Reid. You are a very intelligent gentleman, I must say. I shall make very sure that you do not escape. In fact, I shall lend you Captain Yang Ch’ieu and six members of the Death Squad.

“I choose you because you may escape unscathed in the Japanese lines. Yes, the Japanese lines. You are to proceed to Kalgan on the Great Wall, there find one they call
Takeki,
the Courageous, a notorious spy, very harmful to the peace of China, one who is responsible for much of this Autonomy move. You will kill this
Takeki,
and when you have brought me evidence that you have done so, you shall have this confession. Then you will be a free man.

“But if you do not kill this
Takeki,
through Captain Yang I will inform the authorities where you may be apprehended and I shall have men appear at your trial as witnesses against you, thereby making it certain that you die a criminal. There is no escape for you.

“And if you go too wrong in this, you saw what happened to this man Bonner. Perhaps I would not trust the authorities. But however that may be, Kurt Reid, kill
Takeki
and you are a free man.”

“So that’s why you did all this.”

“Of course. But do not make the mistake of thinking that this
Takeki
is anything less than a demon. He may try you very much before you finish with him. My own men could not approach him at all, but you, as a white man, speaking their language, should be able to do it and escape.