The Scorpia Menace (11 page)

Today he wore a sky blue uniform from the neck of which hung the blue Maltese cross of the Order of Scorpia, the highest honor the kingdom could bestow. Naturally, the Baron was the only man to hold it. Now his blue eyes looked even more startling beneath his short chestnut hair as he smiled his crooked smile at the commander of his security forces. He sat down at his desk and stared at the blank television screen that was turned like an eye toward him.

"So this Diana Palmer persists in her efforts to find out what Scorpia is?" he said.

Colonel Crang shifted uneasily from his position beside the great globe of the world on its mahogany stand. He glanced across at the Baron's disposition map, where little winking lights spelled out the nefarious activities of Scorpia all over the world.

"Koch was quite emphatic on that point, sir," he said crisply.

He glanced down again at the signal sheet in his hand.

"It seems that his Red Alert may have been correctly designated this time."

Sojin smiled again.

"Perhaps," he said softly.

He drammed quietly on the surface of his desk with his thin, restless fingers.

"What is Diana Palmer like, apart from being an Olympic athlete and an explorer?"

He turned his gaze up to the bulky form of the Colonel.

"These are the only two things which the news bulletins seem to know about her. There must be more information."

"There is," Colonel Crang said quickly. "I have her picture here. We've built up quite a dossier on Miss Palmer."

He crossed to the end of the desk and picked up a brown leather briefcase that was lying there. He rummaged around in it, and then came up with a large envelope, emitting a grant of satisfaction. He took a glossy photograph from it and passed it across to the ruler of Scorpia.

The Baron studied the studio portrait with great interest.

"She is beautiful," he said, involuntarily. He shot Crang an approving glance.

"I am obliged for this visual proof of the lady's charms, Colonel."

He turned back to examine the picture again.

"The face has courage, intelligence and tremendous personality," he said.

"Please sit down."

He indicated a leather armchair and Colonel Crang sank gratefully into it. He stared impassively at Sojin who continued to drink in the details of the picture. There was silence in the room for a long time. The faint hum of the air-conditioning seemed an intrusion.

Then Sojin slid the picture to one side.

"I'll keep this," he said.

His blue eyes were on the Colonel again.

"What would be your advice in these circumstances—as Chief of my security arrangements, of course?"

The Colonel leaned forward in the armchair.

"You want my frank opinion?"

Sojin spread his hands wide on the desk.

"Naturally, Colonel."

Crang frowned. He knew he had to speak cautiously at this stage.

"If I were in your position, sir, I would send Signal Black back to Koch," he said.

His words seemed to echo and linger unnaturally under the great oak beams of the ceiling.

The Baron sat as impassive as a statue, his hands firm and relaxed on the blotter.

"Go on, Colonel."

"It would be the best way, sir," Crang went on.

"Within twenty-four hours Diana Palmer would have disappeared forever. Quietly and without a trace."

Sojin was silent for a moment. Then he smiled his crooked smile.

"Without a trace—and quietly—such a famous personality as Miss Palmer?"

He turned to study the picture again.

"An Olympic swimmer? An explorer? Oh, come now, Colonel Crang. You don't really mean what I think you mean."

Crang stirred uncomfortably in the chair.

"You make it sound difficult, sir."

The Baron inclined his head toward his Chief of Securi
ty.

"You have hit the exact point, Colonel. It is difficult."

He held the picture up to the light spilling in from the window.

"Don't you think the world press will make a fuss if Miss Palmer disappears? Not to mention television and the other news media?"

Colonel Crang coughed discreetly for the second time that afternoon.

"You have mistaken my meaning, sir. Perhaps my choice of the word 'disappear' was a clumsy one. But if Miss Palmer were to die . . ."

He lifted his stubby hands toward the silent figure of Baron Sojin at the desk before him.

"To die in a manner which suggested, unequivocally, that her death was an accident"

The words appeared to hover in the air between the two men.

"Then the world would have to accept the facts of her death as an 'accident,' " concluded the Colonel with quiet triumph.

The Baron put the picture down abruptly at his elbow.

"What other information do you have on Miss Palmer,

Crang? I understood you to say there was a dossier."

"I have it here, sir."

Crang slid the folder across the desk to the Baron. He opened the cover with his thin, strong fingers and proceeded to examine its contents. Crang sat at ease in the chair, busy with his own thoughts. Half an hour passed without cither man speaking. It was a silence compounded of mutual respect and trust. Finally, the Baron closed the folder with a grunt of satisfaction. He glanced at the picture again and put it in the folder with the other material.

"As I said, the girl has not only beauty, but brains and courage," he told Crang.

"An unusual combination in this modern age."

He got up and went to the window and stared moodily down at the panorama of cliff, sea and jungle. Crang watched him without expression.

The Baron turned to face him once more.

"She doesn't frighten easily," he said. "That is most unusual in itself. I don't care how you do it. Bring her here!"

Crang was on his feet, almost without knowing it. Dark blood suffused his cheeks as he replied.

"Do I understand you correctly, sir? We've never done anything like that before. Surely, it would be more politic to get rid of her quietly as I suggested?"

Baron Sojin's blue eyes were suddenly drilling into the Colonel's own. He lapsed into silence. An oppressive atmosphere seemed to have descended on the great room. Crang felt a rivulet of sweat run down his collar. He stood at attention.

"I prefer to believe that you did not make those remarks, Colonel Crang," said the Baron icily. "Do not let me have occasion to refer to it again."

He came up closer to the Colonel.

"You have your orders. See that they are carried out. Bring her here safely and without a scratch."

He crossed over to his desk and sat down on the edge of

it.

"She's a pilot," he said. "I will dictate the method to be used. One that will convince the world of its genuineness."

"Very good, sir," said Crang crisply. "I await your instructions."

Once again he was a loyally functioning machine.

He saluted and went out.

The Baron hardly heard him go. He reached over and opened up the folder. He studied the photograph for the third or fourth time.

"Brains, breeding and courage," he breathed to himself. "Things I've waited for for a long time ... all in one person, Diana Palmer."

He smiled his crooked smile. He felt strangely content

11

NIGHT KIDNAP

Rain was coming down steadily. Mrs. Palmer looked with surprise as Diana came to the drawing-room door. She had on a white slicker and a head-scarf. Mrs. Palmer frowned. She put down the expensive, color volume on flower arranging and shook her head.

"You're surely not going out tonight, Diana? You haven't a class this evening."

Diana Palmer smiled. "No, that's true, Mama, but I thought I'd go down to the library for an hour or two. I'm taking a car."

"That's all right, then," said Mrs. Palmer, slightly mollified. "You'd certainly get drowned if you were walking."

She picked up the book, thought better of it and laid it on the couch beside her. She smiled at her daughter.

"I suppose there's no point in asking you to forget Scorpia for one evening?" she said gently.

Diana shook her head, but there were sparks of amusement in her eyes.

"Don't worry, Mama," she said. "This may come to an end sooner than you think."

Mrs. Palmer got up.

"Meaning what, dear?"

"Meaning that I'm getting frustrated," Diana replied. "I haven't uncovered a thing since my late nineteenth-century references to Scorpia."

"Maybe there isn't anything else to find, dear," said her mother. "Much as I hate to discourage you. . ."

She stopped, but Diana supplied the answer.

"You hope that there is no more to find out," she replied.

"I'm not saying you aren't right. It's just that I hate to leave any job half-finished."

"I know, dear."

Her mother bent forward to kiss Diana on the cheek.

"Have a good evening, anyway. Don't be late and don't get too wet."

"I won't, Mother," said Diana, walking across the hall and closing the door behind her. Once out of the shelter of the house, the wind buffeted her and she was glad to turn into the angle of the garage wing.

"Maybe there isn't anything else to find out about Scorpia," she told herself. "Maybe it's all my imagination."

Then her thoughts strayed to Kit Walker again, and she wished for the hundredth time that he were back in Westchester; he would know what to do in such a situation. She slid back the big doors of the garage and went around the bulk of the gleaming blue Mercedes toward the light-switch. She stopped with a shock of surprise as a harsh voice sounded from the darkness.

"Don't turn on that light, lady, unless you want to get hurt."

Diana whirled to find the dim form of a man in the interior of her car. The window was rolled down and the courtyard lights of the Palmer house, shining in through the open door of the garage disclosed the familiar hard face of the blond man Diana had seen before. He wore a dark raincoat and a dark hat, but the light from outside shone on the scar on the right-hand side of his face. It shone too, on the blue steel barrel of an automatic pistol which he trained unswervingly on her midriff.

"You're the man who stopped me on the street," gasped Diana. Her eyes widened. "You warned me off Scorpia!"

"That's right, Miss Palmer," the blond man said evenly. "Now just get in behind the wheel. Nice and slow or this just might go off."

Diana did as she was told. She now saw that the blond man was in the back seat of the car. He sat just behind her as she got in, and she stiffened as she felt the cold steel of the gun-muzzle against her face.

"Just take that head-scarf off, girlie, so I can see ahead," said the blond man.

"That's better," he said with satisfaction, sinking back on the seat.

"Now take her out nice and slow."