The Vanishers (24 page)

She licked her lips. “He’s dead. You might show a little respect—”

I said, “I didn’t think much of him alive; why should my opinion improve just because he’s stopped breathing?” I glanced at her. “You said you wanted to come along on this safari into deepest Lapland so you could spy on me for Olaf. Have you changed your mind?”

After a moment, she shook her head quickly. “No, I have not changed my mind.”

“All right, sit still while we switch drivers.”

It wasn’t fun. I went around and opened the right front door of the ancient heap, and tossed my suitcase into the back seat to keep it away from the leaking bodily fluids, not all red. Then I hauled him over into the right-hand seat and arranged him gracefully against the door, just another passed-out drunk. Fortunately, I’d shot only for the body, so nothing showed on the head or face.

Coming back around to the left side of the car, I took off my borrowed overcoat and used it to cover the messy place behind the wheel. I was surprised to find that one of the feeble little .22-caliber slugs had actually penetrated both a car seat and a human torso and wound up smashing the speedometer. I wouldn’t have expected that; but ballistics is not always an exact science. I got in and closed the door. To my relief, the overenergetic bullet didn’t seem to have affected any essential systems; the motor started at the turn of the key.

I said over my shoulder, “You’re welcome to join us up front here, but it might be a bit too cozy.”

I heard her gag. “Do you have to make tasteless jokes?”

I put the car into gear. “Mrs. Segerby, cut it out,” I said. “We’ve got a long way to travel together. We’ll get along better if you dispense with that timid-little-girl routine of yours. I don’t think you fainted when Astrid came in all shot up, and I know you didn’t lose your lunch seeing Greta after her face had been remodeled with a scalpel; and those were friends of yours. Well, at least acquaintances. Don’t try to kid me you’re in deep shock over the death of a man you never even knew. I think you’re a very determined young lady who’s trying to fool people into underestimating her; but I’ve had the gag pulled on me before.”

After a little silence, she said, “If you want to get back to your own car at Vasakliniken, as he said, you must turn left at the next corner.”

“Thanks.”

“He really smells quite dreadfully. Why did you not put him in the boot?”

“Boot? Oh, Limey for car trunk.”

“I am sorry. I really learned to speak the language in England when I was a student; it comes back that way when I am under strain.”

I said, “In answer to your question, if anybody was looking down from any of those apartments we were parked under, I didn’t want them to see me dragging a corpse around the car. Open a window if you like.”

“Thank you. Do they always… I mean, I didn’t know they did
that
when they died violently.”

I said, “You’re a funny girl. What are you trying to pull, anyway, pretending to be a cream puff?”

She said softly, “Cream puff. That is a nice word. One day you will understand, Mr. Helm. One day they will all understand. You must take this big boulevard to the right now.”

“Check.”

Even with a dead body in the car, it seemed like a shorter drive; but then it almost always seems shorter going back, wherever you’ve been. When we reached the clinic, the red Golf was standing in the parking lot where I’d last seen it. There were no indications of a stakeout. After cruising past once to make reasonably sure, I drove into the lot, parked alongside, and robbed the dead man for change, since I was short. In a way, it made me feel more guilty than shooting him. I also retrieved the key of the rental car.

I walked over to a lighted structure that sheltered, more or less, two pay telephones that looked very deserted at this time of night. It took a while to get a call through to Washington. I could see Karin Segerby waiting patiently in the Volvo, but her patience was nothing to that of her companion, whose head was also visible, resting against the doorpost.

The phone was answered at last by a woman I did not know, which wasn’t unusual, since we don’t have much to do with the office help; but she was sticky about accepting a collect call, something that had never happened while Mac was in charge. She made me wait while she cleared me with someone higher up. That meant, of course, that my name was on the alert list, and my calls were to be traced if possible, and certain people were to be notified, while she stalled to hold me on the line.

“Sorry for the delay, sir. I’m trying to reach Mr. Bennett for you. Can you give me a number where he can call you?”

I said, “No. I’ll call back in ten minutes. Have him on the line.”

“But sir—”

“Exactly ten minutes from… mark!”

When Mac was in charge, he could practically always be reached; but the girls on the switchboard were just as apt as not to tell you to keep your pants on, Big Boy. Now they were nice and respectful and called you sir, and apologized for making you wait, but Bennett was unavailable. Typical.

I dug through the phone book, which wasn’t as easy to find things in as the U.S. equivalent, at least for a foreigner, and finally managed to reach the proper airline at Stockholm’s big international airport at Arlanda, where Astrid and I would have landed if we hadn’t got off in Oslo. I made a late-morning reservation for two to Luleå, the city up north that had the closest large airport to Lysaniemi. To make it look good, I then got hold of Avis and asked them to have a car waiting for me up there when I arrived—a nice little red herring that would keep everybody happy for a while, I hoped. I made another local call, and one to Denmark for some information I’d been promised. Then time was up and I got Washington on the line again.

The same super-polite female answered: “I think I can reach Mr. Bennett for you now, sir. Please hold.”

Waiting, I watched three tough-looking Swedish youths, all blond, all in black, denim and leather, stroll past the parking lot. They looked me over appraisingly, where I stood under the lights, wondering if I was worth hassling. I told them silently, come on, come on, boys, I’ve only killed one man since I got up this morning. Oh, and I shot a woman, but only in the arm, so it doesn’t count. Let’s make it a worthwhile day, fellows, let me make it four deads just for the record, please… But predators, human and otherwise, have very good survival instincts; these sensed danger, as I’d hoped they would when I laid the thought on them so hard, and they went on to easier prey. I released my grip on Joel’s revolver in my pocket, and waited some more.

At last Bennett’s voice came on the line. “Yes?”

“This is Helm,” I said.

He spoke reprovingly: “We use the code names on official business, Eric.”

He was slightly incredible; but then he always had been. “My business with you is always unofficial, Bennett,” I said. “As far as I’m concerned, so are you.”

“Eric, I order you to—”

“Cut that crap,” I said. “I have one of your boys here. If nothing’s done about him, come morning somebody’ll discover, surprise, surprise, that he isn’t really asleep and the stuff that’s dripping under the car isn’t really crankcase oil or hydraulic fluid. They’ll notify the police, and the whole business will go public. If that’s what you want, okay. If not, you’d better get a cleanup crew here, fast. I presume you do have some people in Stockholm waiting for the word from Joel. Well, here’s your word from Joel.”

There was a long silence. “Where in Stockholm?”

“It’s an old black Volvo four-door sedan, if they don’t know the car,” I said. I gave him the license number. “The key will be under the floormat, left front. Parking lot, Vasakliniken, the Vasa Clinic, Stockholm. Repeat: parking lot, Vasakliniken, Stockholm. Somebody can look up the address for you, I’m sure. Do you want to know something funny? He acted kind of odd about all us barons, so I had him checked out. Turns out his family had a title, too, once. Prince Valdemar Konowski. Of course we Swedish aristocrats don’t think too much of that titled Polish trash.”

“Helm, I promise you’ll regret—”

Bennett’s voice was harsh, and he’d forgotten about the code names; but maybe it wasn’t business anymore. Maybe it had become very personal indeed. I was certainly doing my best to make it so.

I cut him short: “Sure, and one good threat deserves another. I sent you a warning a while back. Just in case it went astray, let me repeat the gist of it for you. You should make a note of today, amigo. You may not know it, but this is a special day for you. The day you died.”

“If you think you can frighten me—”

I grinned at the wall of the booth. They never say that unless you can frighten them.

I said, “We gave you a break once; and one is all you’re entitled to. In case your boy Marshall Lindner didn’t pass you the word from Oslo, I’m giving it to you now. As soon as I clean up this assignment, I’ll be coming for you. Don’t bother to try to hide. I’ll find you. That’s my specialty, remember, running them to earth and digging them out of the holes they try to hide in. I’ve never missed yet. As of now, you’re a dead man walking. Good-bye, Bennett.
Hasta la vista.
”

I hung up the phone and drew a deep breath and headed back to the car. The Lone Avenger. Menace, Ltd. Annihilation, Inc. All I needed was a black cloak and a white horse. Or maybe a white cloak and a black horse. Death on the hoof, that was Helm, at least to hear him talk. But with corny people you’ve got to play corny games so they’ll understand you.

Walking back to the cars, I played the conversation back in my mind, listening to the sounds of the phone and trying to guess where Bennett had been talking from. The fact that it had taken them so long to get him on the line was a hopeful sign. Of course, he could have been dining out in downtown Washington, or having drinks with a girl in her Georgetown apartment; but the delay suggested that he could be here in Sweden talking through a roundabout connection. They can make phones do the damndest things these days. And if he wasn’t here already, I could hope that my latest threats, delivered personally from beside Joel’s dead body, would give him the final nudge needed to get him to come here and take personal charge of the manhunt. The Helm hunt.

“Out you come,” I said to Karin as I reached the Volvo. “Crank up the window and bring the suitcase. We’re switching transportation… Just a minute while I stash the Volvo key and cover him up a bit.”

Rather than leave him sitting there in plain sight, I got him down on the floor and covered him with the overcoat so he just looked like some clothing piled there. Karin was waiting in a docile manner when, having shut the door on him and inspected the Volvo for obvious flaws, I turned away.

She spoke mildly: “You could have let me move over to the other car before you made your call. It wasn’t a very nice place to wait so long.”

“At least you weren’t bored by his constant chatter,” I said.

She winced. “Do you
have
to be so callous?”

“Do you
have
to pretend it bothers you?”

“I think you misjudge me, Mr. Helm.”

“And I think you just wish I would, Mrs. Segerby. Hop in. You can toss that suitcase in back. We’ll get you some stuff to wear along the road. I’m getting very good at selecting ladies’ wardrobes.” I walked around and got behind the wheel. The rental car started on the third try, and acted very reluctant for the first few blocks; I hoped it would last the course. As we drove, I said, “Tell me how we get to Liljehamn. There’s a city map in all that junk on the floor, if you need it.”

She made no move towards the maps and guidebooks at her feet. “Just turn left as you come out of this parking area. I will direct you. Why do we drive to the ferry terminal? It is not the right direction?”

“At the moment, any direction is the right direction as long as it’s away from here,” I said. “What’s going to happen up there at Laxfors?”

After a little pause for reflection, she said, “I see. That is why you wanted me with you, for information.”

“Also, as you know, to keep you from giving the family a bad name. But I would like to know what we may be running into up there. Tell me about Laxfors.”

“Another left turn at that traffic light ahead,” she said. “It is to be a big demonstration. We have been moving people north for many days, singly and in small groups. Members of UFO, our Youth Peace Organization, and the other groups with similar goals we have persuaded to join us in this protest. You will try to stop it, I suppose?”

Even busy driving the car, I was aware of the sharply questioning glance she gave me. I said, “It’s no concern of mine. Why should I stop it, a foreigner like me? Let the Swedish authorities handle their own riots and protect their own communication centers.” I shrugged. “This ethnic and sentimental stuff is all very well, but I’ve got a country and it isn’t this one. Without direct orders from Washington, I’m not about to interfere with anybody’s hell-raising in a land that isn’t mine. It’s none of my damned business.”

After a moment, she laughed. “You are a very interesting person, Mr. Helm. This should be a very interesting trip. Turn left up ahead, and we will be on the road to Liljehamn.”

It was, as she’d promised, an interesting trip. It started getting interesting in our cabin shortly after the ferry left Sweden headed for Finland. She was a vigorous, not to say frantic, young lady in bed; maybe she was making up for a year of widowhood. At last, after we’d lain together for a while, recovering from our exertions, she gave me a light kiss and a little squeeze, and sat up to turn on the light at the head of the berth.

When she spoke, there was some sharpness in her voice. “You do quite well for a man whose heart is elsewhere.”

I didn’t pretend not to understand. I said, “I didn’t know it showed.”

“You were being very skillful and mechanical. Clearly you have satisfied a great many yearning little girls in your time.” She laughed shortly. “Never mind. It was what I needed, after all the months of being the pure and grieving Widow Segerby. One cannot order up love, or even true passion, on demand, can one?” She shook her head quickly. “No, please do not apologize. That is the only unforgivable thing.”