Believed Violent (16 page)

“Get rid of the recorder. Use the service elevator,” Lindsey said. “Be careful you’re not seen.”

Kurt nodded. He was an excellent man in any emergency. He hurried into the living-room, picked up the heavy recorder and left.

Lindsey grimaced.

He was certainly having little luck, he thought. When he had begun the operation, it seemed fairly simple. Now Warren must know that there was much more behind Forrester’s escape than he had been led to believe. Knowing Warren, Lindsey was sure he would guess someone was after the Code. This was something Radnitz had wanted to avoid. Lindsey was also sure that before long the hotel would be crawling with C.I.A. Agents checking every room. He decided to go back to bed. It wouldn’t be policy for them to find him awake if or when they did come.

It wasn’t until a C.I.A. specialist had tested the big room that the hotel management had put at Warren’s disposal on the third floor, making sure there were no bugging devices, that Warren and Hamilton felt free to talk.

Warren said, “We’ve got the picture now, Jesse. This is a conspiracy to get Forrester’s formula. Could be either Russia or China. We’ve lost Forrester. Every witness who might have given us a lead to him has been wiped out. Someone vicious and ruthless is behind all this. We must find him!”

“What’s more important, sir . . . we have to find Forrester,” Hamilton said quietly. “That bug is a powerful one. I thought at first someone in the hotel could be listening in, but with its range, anyone in a car with a recorder could have picked up our talk within half a mile. We’ll be wasting time trying to find them. I’ve already talked to the hotel manager. He says it is out of the question to search every room in the hotel. The people here wouldn’t stand for it. They could kick up such a fuss the press will get on to it. No . . . we have got to find Forrester.”

“Any news?”

“Not so far.”

Warren paced the room, then he said, “I’m leaving for Washington right away. There’s nothing more I can do here. This is now up to you and Williams. This is now top level. I must report direct to the President. What I want to assure him is that Forrester can’t leave the country.”

Hamilton thrust his chin out.

“I’ll guarantee even more than that, sir. He can’t leave Florida. Every exit is sealed.”

Warren looked out of the big window at the busy harbour below. Yachts were leaving and coming in. Motorboats off for a day’s marlin fishing were roaring out to sea.

“He could be in any of those boats.”

Hamilton shook his head.

“Every boat is being checked before it gets clearance. There is a complete net around Florida. Forrester just can’t get out!”

CHAPTER FIVE

On the third night of Paul Forrester’s disappearance, Lindsey was served an excellent dinner on the penthouse terrace. He ate without appetite for he had received a coded Telex from Radnitz that read:

I return November 15th. Expect successful results.

Lindsey’s alarm reports to Radnitz had been ignored. The Telex told him the ball was firmly in his court. Radnitz was not only leaving him to handle the situation, but expected him to succeed.

Lindsey had refrained from going to the cave hide-out until now. He had no wish to remain long in a series of caves. These caves didn’t conform to his high standard of living. He wanted Forrester and Nona Jacey to get settled and also he wanted Dr. Kuntz to have time to make an examination and to come to a conclusion.

A little after ten p.m., Lindsey left the hotel and drove towards the desert. From the newspapers and the radio, he learned that the search for Paul Forrester was being intensified in the City. The helicopter search of the desert had been called off. Police headquarters and the City Hall were being s bombarded by reports that Forrester had been seen. Every call had to be checked: so far, every call had proved a false alarm.

Once on the road to the desert, Lindsey took the precaution of turning off his headlights and driving only on his parkers.

He arrived at the entrance to the caves some minutes before ten-thirty. Silk was there to meet him. In the shadows were two men armed with automatic rifles.

As Lindsey got out of the Cadillac, he asked, “Any trouble?”

“No . . . Kuntz is belly-aching . . . nothing else,” Silk told him.

“The girl?”

“She’s okay. I let her have a look at Chet. He scared her pants right off her. She’ll do just what she’s told.”

“And Forrester?”

Silk fingered the scar on his face, then shrugged, “I wouldn’t know . . . a zombie. You see for yourself.”

The two men walked down the tunnel that led to the first cave.

“I’ll talk to Kuntz.” Lindsey looked around. The cave was lit by three big battery-driven lamps. There was a long table, chairs, a radio and against one of the sloping walls a Calor gas cooking range. “I see you’ve settled in.”

“It’s okay. We eat. Do we stay here long?” Silk was already getting bored living underground in this way. Lindsey ignored the question. He asked, “Where’s Kuntz?”

“I’ll take you to him.”

They walked on to another cave where three men, automatic rifles by their sides were playing cards. They looked up, then went on playing.

In the next cave, further down the tunnel, Lindsey found Dr. Kuntz sitting in an armchair, reading a medical journal. When he saw Lindsey, he threw down the journal and jumped to his feet.

“How long am I to stay here?” he demanded, his little black eyes flashing. “This is impossible! Living in a cave! I have repeatedly complained! This man is insolent!”

“All right, doctor,” Lindsey said with his charming smile. “Please relax.” He waved Silk away and then sat down in a chair and looked around the small cave. “I wouldn’t say this is bad,” he went on, taking a boiled sweet from a tin he carried. He put the sweet into his mouth. “I would have thought this cave was better ― a lot better ― than a cell in a German jail. From what I have heard, German jails are to be avoided.” He sucked his sweet, turning it around in his mouth, then as Kuntz slowly sat down, he went on, “Well now, doctor, how about your patient? What do you make of him?”

Kuntz swallowed down his rage with an obvious effort. He sat silent for several moments, controlling himself, then seeing that Lindsey was watching him, his smile slightly jeering, he forced himself to become professional.

“Frankly, I don’t know,” he said. “I have studied his medical history. Dr. Hertz is one of the leading specialists for mental disorders in the country. He has stated . . .”

“I am not interested in what Dr. Hertz has stated,” Lindsey broke in. “I’m only interested in your opinion. I know what Hertz has said. I have also studied his report.”

Kuntz shifted uneasily.

“There is nothing really constructive that I can add to his report,” he said. “For over twenty-six months the patient hasn’t responded to any kind of treatment. It is puzzling, but a fact.”

“How about your special operation, doctor?” Lindsey asked, leaning forward.

Kuntz shook his head.

“I’m afraid not. The operation wouldn’t be successful. It could even do considerable damage.”

Lindsey’s smile faded. This was something he had not expected to hear. He thought of Radnitz. I
return November 15th. Expect successful results
. Failure was out of the question. He knew Radnitz. If he did fail, if Radnitz didn’t get his hands on the Soviet’s four million dollars, then that would be the end of his association with Radnitz. He knew Radnitz had only to lift a telephone receiver and Silk would appear with his silenced gun. Lindsey felt a sudden cold, creepy sensation run up his spine.

“You will have to do better than that, doctor,” he said, a slight grating note in his voice. “Just why won’t your brilliant operation that has cost so many Jewish lives work with Forrester?”

Kuntz winced.

“For one thing,” he said, not looking at Lindsey, “I have a strong suspicion that Forrester is not a manic depressive. I’ve made every possible test on him for the past two days. They axe all negative. The operation is only successful when I get positive reactions . . . I’m just not getting them. Therefore, my operation could do far more damage than if he was left alone.”

Lindsey crunched down on his sweet. It was just preventing his mouth from turning dry.

“Are you telling me he is faking?” he demanded.

“Oh, no. Don’t get that idea,” Kuntz said. “Let me put it this way. Imagine his mind as a very delicate watch. The hairspring and the balance of the watch are the parts that make the watch keep accurate time. With some people the balance is not entirely adjusted . . . the watch goes either fast or slow. Now with Forrester not only is the balance maladjusted, but through overwork and finding his wife unfaithful, the hairspring also has come out of true. Now it needs only the slightest adjustment to get the balance and the hairspring working properly again. If you had a watch acting like this and you tapped it sharply, it is quite possible the watch would work normally again. You can’t of course tap Forrester, but it is possible to give him a mental tap. This tap must come from outside and not from a doctor. It is likely that in a week . . . a month . . . a year or several years something will occur to give him this mental tap and make him normal. But science can’t do this. It is far too delicate . . . far too dangerous. The tap could be too strong. If that happened then he will go over the edge and there will be nothing anyone can do for him.”

Lindsey drew in a long breath.

“A week . . . a month . . . years ?” he said.

“Yes, but it could happen tomorrow. It depends. It might not happen for years. He has been in this state now for twenty-six months. So far nothing has had any effect on him.”

Why do you think that?”

Kuntz shrugged his fat shoulders.

“I would say it is because he has been isolated. He has been taken out of his environment. He has had no contact with people he has known. He has had no chance at all of receiving this mental tap I’m talking about.”

Lindsey suddenly realized how clever Radnitz was. It humiliated him to realize that Radnitz was one step ahead of even this brilliant mental specialist and miles ahead of Lind-8ey’s own thinking. He remembered Radnitz saying:
He had a lab assistant, a young woman whose name is Nona Jacey. She is important.

Now, Lindsey realized why Nona Jacey was so important and why Radnitz had arranged for her to be kidnapped.

For one thing, he has been isolated. He has had no contacts with people he has known. Kuntz had just said.

Radnitz had anticipated this thinking. This was the reason why the girl was here.

Lindsey thought for a long moment, then he said, “We have here, doctor, Forrester’s lab assistant who worked with him before his breakdown. Could she be a possible contact to put him back on balance?”

Kuntz’s little eyes narrowed. He stroked his beaky nose, then he shrugged.

“I don’t know. It is possible.”

Lindsey decided that Kuntz didn’t appreciate the seriousness of the situation. It was time to throw a scare into this fat little man.

“If we fail in this operation,” he said quietly, “I could not guarantee your safety. I want you to understand that. I doubt very much if you would leave this cave.” He forced a smile. The matter is far too important for failure. I must ask for your utmost co-operation.” He paused, then went on, “We have the girl. It is now up to you to tell me how I should use her to have the maximum effect. Should we fail . . . well, let us not stress the point. We mustn’t fail.”

“I don’t understand,” Kuntz said, his face paling. “Leave this cave? You . . .”

“Look, doctor, I’ve said we won’t stress the point. You either bring this man back to normal or our friend with the glass eye wipes you out.” Lindsey got to his feet. “You have been in constant touch with people who have had to die. Be careful that this isn’t your turn.”

Kuntz sat in a cold fat heap, staring up at him.

“I ― I will do my best,” he said, his voice quavering.

“Of course,” Lindsey said. He took another sweet from the tin. “You had better see the girl and talk to her. I understand she is ready to co-operate.”

He watched Kuntz heave himself out of his chair and walk unsteadily from the cave and down the passage and out of sight.

Nona Jacey was terrified.

The previous day a blond, baby-faced man had come quietly into the small cave where she was sitting on the camp bed and had smiled at her. There was something about him that sent a chill of fear through her. He sat on the bed by her side. He talked in a soft, drawling voice and he told her what would happen to her if she wasn’t co-operative. What he told her revolted and horrified her. She put her hands over her ears. This was a mistake. He caught her wrists and flattened her face down on the bed. He leaned on her and continued to talk. The heat of his body and the filth of his words shattered her.

When he had left her sobbing and shuddering on the bed, Sheila came to her. She didn’t touch her, but sat by her side, watching her.

“It’s all right, honey,” she kept saying. “He won’t do anything . . . you just must do what they tell you. I swear he won’t do anything to you.”

Then the following night, this night, a fat beady-eyed man had come in. He had talked to her, asking questions about her association with Forrester. She could see he was as frightened as she was. She answered all his questions truthfully. She was shivering and her hands were shaking. The fat, beady-eyed man kept looking at her hands until to hide them, she sat on them.

He went away.

Sheila had stayed in the shadows, sitting on an upright chair and when the fat, beady-eyed man had gone, she had come over to Nona and had put her arm around her.

“It’s all right, honey . . .” she began, but Nona shook her off, screaming in an hysterical voice. “Get away from me!”

“Sure, sure, sure, honey, I know just how you feel,” Sheila said and looking at her, Nona saw with horror that the girl was twitching, her nose was contracting and as white as wax and there were sweat beads on her face. Sheila saw her look of horror and she grimaced.