CHAPTER FIVE

The Japanese Spy

IT took a moment or two for Kurt Reid to recover from his surprise, but his silence was unnoticed. Varinka Savischna came forward, holding out her hands to him, smiling.

“My dear Kurt,” said Varinka. “I am surprised, but very glad to see you. I hope these compatriots of mine did not cause you any inconvenience.”

She was taller than the Japanese, and she carried herself with a conscious pride of beauty. Her beautiful broad face was smiling.

Kurt took her hands. He could do nothing else. “I did not know that you—”

“And what news do you bring me from the south?” she said, interrupting him.

Kurt glanced at the Japanese. They eyed him with a suspicion of hostility. “Nothing of any moment, Varinka.”

“But certainly you must have something, to come so far to find me.”

“Oh, yes, perhaps you’d be interested to know that . . . that Lin Wang . . . But then I would feel better if I could impart this information to you privately.”

“Of course. I have a car outside and I am living a short distance away. You are probably hungry and you must come with me to get something to eat. We can talk then.”

Kurt felt the leaden silence of the room. He felt very uncomfortable. He could feel the thoughts of the Japanese. They were not at all sure of him, those fellows, and he knew they were telling themselves that they would keep their eye on him. He felt a chill run up and down his spine when a soldier clattered his rifle against the wall. The brown eyes stabbed him. Death and danger were heavy in the room.

Varinka did not seem to notice it. Her fur-topped boots whispered over the hard floor as she led Kurt out to the waiting car. Three sentries, carrying their rifles in their hands, swung on to the running board. Kurt felt that he was under arrest.

A cold wind was sweeping across the dead brown hills, stirring up dust through the blackness. Kalgan was silent and without lights. It slept uneasily under the heel of its conqueror from across the Yellow Sea.

They arrived at a small enclosure and went through a wide gate, which was quickly clanged shut behind them. The sound had a finality to it which Kurt did not like.

The guards dropped to the cobblestones of the courtyard. Kurt looked about to see that this house, like most Chinese houses, was built in three separate huts, each one serving a different purpose. The gray stone walls reminded him of a prison.

But the furnishings of the room into which he was led belied the exterior. Fine silks were draped along the walls. Colorful cushions were strewn about the border of a tan and black carpet. A fire was crackling cheerfully in the fireplace. The heavy odor of Russian incense, far too sweet, caught in Kurt’s throat.

Varinka threw off her coat and tossed the cap aside. She sat down on a cushion and placed her left hand on the floor for support. She smiled at Kurt.

The three guards were outside somewhere, walking back and forth, feet resonant upon the stones.

A black-gowned amah came in, bowed, saw that Varinka had a guest and quickly went away. She returned in a moment with excellent whisky and a tray of food, which she placed on a chow bench.

Kurt ate slowly, watching Varinka, and listening to the footsteps of the guard. Finally he said, “This is rotten business.”

Varinka shrugged. “One has to live.”

“You mean you’re a spy for these yellow devils? You mean you’re willing to help them take over China. Not that I care what happens to China, but after all the Japanese . . .”

“One has to live,” said Varinka.

“But to be guarded like this—”

“Those guards are there because the Japanese are suspicious of you, Kurt. You have no official status here.” She paused as though unwilling to say more. Then, with a glance up at the small window, she leaned closer to him and lowered her voice, “I’m afraid they think that I . . . A spy can never tell who his friends and enemies are.”

He caught a glimpse of fear in her eyes when she said that, but the expression was instantly gone.

“Tell me what happened to you,” she said, lighting a long cigarette.

Kurt snorted. “They picked me up after you left the house. Lin Wang’s men, I mean. Lin Wang has a confession waiting for me in Shanghai and if—”

The food gagged him suddenly. He realized then that this Takeki and Varinka were one and the same person. He had been sent to Kalgan to kill Varinka, and if he did not kill her, his own life was forfeit. But then, hadn’t one of Yang’s men tried to kill him? Wasn’t that bond absolved? But still, the confession was in the hands of Lin Wang, and Lin Wang had ordered this thing to be done.

“What’s the matter?” said Varinka suddenly. “You’re white as a ghost!” She moved closer to him. “Are you ill?”

“No . . . no, no.”

“Then go on. Tell me.”

Kurt hid his face behind a large drink of the whisky. You can’t tell a person that you have been sent to kill them.

“He sent me North, told me to leave China,” said Kurt.

She did not believe him, but neither did she question him. She merely said, “Funny thing for Lin Wang to do. He usually uses his Death Squad.”

“But I was glad you got away,” said Kurt, feeling very uneasy.

“Never worry about me,” replied Varinka. “There’s a panel and a secret staircase, and another door in that house, in the native city.”

“I still can’t figure out about my escape, though.”

Varinka laughed at him and hugged her knees. “I knew that you were to be let loose from the Rangoon, and so I placed a sampan near the ship so that you wouldn’t have to swim ashore. You must have evaded the men Lin Wang sent to follow you, but my man picked you up and trailed you to the tea house. I waited there for you and my messenger. I needed a good, strong man I could trust, and I knew that Lin Wang wanted you for some purpose or other. I was going to steal his man from him.”

“What did you want me for?”

“I don’t trust Chinese, much less Japanese. I thought you would be able to help me and I knew I could help you. I had an idea that I could prove you innocent, and you had such a reputation as a fighter and as a linguist, I thought it a shame to let such material run around loose. And maybe . . . maybe, I was just being kind. I don’t know. It amused me.

“Tell me, Kurt, did you see Anne Carsten there?”

“Why, yes, of course,” and for some reason he could not define he felt himself crimson.

“Ah, so you did meet her, eh? A fine woman, isn’t she? So young to be living alone in the native city. She must have taken quite a fancy to you, from the way you look. She is always taken with sailors.”

“Wait a minute,” said Kurt. “I think she’s a swell kid.”

Varinka laughed delightedly. “Then you love her, eh?”

“No, of course not.”

“Why ‘of course not’ so very gruff? Would that be impossible? Tell me, Kurt, if you were to choose between us, which one would you take?”

He crimsoned again. “An unfair question.”

“Oh, but never mind. Anne Carsten has such a hard time of it. You know her father died in Shanghai six months ago. Did you know that? It was said that the Death Squad had some little thing to do with it. Carsten was far too interested in Chinese politics.”

“The poor kid,” said Kurt. “What happened?”

“Why, her father was a merchant prince, and he thought Lin Wang shouldn’t have so much responsibility. He died for it, that’s all. Lin Wang is a devil.”

Kurt agreed with her there. Once again he saw the horrible nightmare of the man’s scaly face, the dirt-grimed wrinkles, the limply hanging and clattering hands, the hunched back.

But the mention of Lin Wang brought something else to him. Lin Wang held liberty in his shaking hands. Lin Wang had sent Kurt Reid to Kalgan to kill one named Takeki the Courageous, who was also known as Varinka Savischna.

“You are very thoughtful,” said Varinka. “What is wrong?”

If the Japanese guessed his mission there, Kurt knew that sudden death would be the mildest of fates.

Suddenly a gunshot roared outside, blasting through the night. Feet clattered over the cobblestones. Shrill Japanese voices cried out.

In one motion, Kurt swept Varinka back against the wall and knocked over the lamp, bringing darkness to the room. Varinka gasped. Kurt felt her under his hand, and the treacherous thought that he could kill her easily now made him shudder.

The glass crashed from the window and something thumped into the room. Another shot roared and then the guards came back swearing. Cautiously Kurt fumbled about on the floor and discovered something which felt like a grenade. He picked it up as though it was hot, about ready to explode. Then he realized that it was a stone with a paper tied around it. He knelt against the wall and undid the sheet.

The fireplace flickered up for a moment, throwing Kurt’s shadow hugely against the silken drapes. Varinka crawled toward him.

In that sudden splash of light, Kurt made out the note. It was in English and it said:

We are waiting. Death there will cancel death here.

Kurt crumpled up the note in his hand. Varinka’s fingers tried to reach it, fingers which were suddenly strong. Kurt jerked the note away and threw it wildly toward the fireplace.

The guards were coming in through the door.

“What is wrong?” bawled a Japanese.

Varinka stood up and ordered Kurt to his feet. The other two guards came in, panting. They had been running.

“What did you find outside?” said Varinka.

The guard shook his head. “Nothing. Men climbed up on a roof across the street and threw something toward your window. Did anything land in here? They got away.”

Varinka picked up the stone and looked at it. The twine which had held the note was still there. She looked long at Kurt.

Taking in the situation, one of the guards looked about in front of the fireplace. He found the note lying a foot away from the flames. He spread it out on the hearth, kneeling there, rifle on the floor beside him.

“I cannot read it,” he said. “It is in English.”

Varinka looked down at it and was about to pick it up. An officer came from nowhere and pushed her aside. He sent a thin scornful glance at Varinka and took the note.

“I can read it,” said the officer. He scanned the letters for a moment and then read them aloud.

For a full minute the room was silent, and then Varinka spun on Kurt, her fists clenched. “I understand now, you beast. I understand. You were sent here by Lin Wang to murder me. You want to kill me! And outside Captain Yang is waiting for you to see that you do the job. And if you fail he will murder you!”

The officer gained in height. He slowly pulled his automatic from its holster and slid off the safety catch. His wiry hair bristled out from under his cap like an angry dog’s.

“No,” said Varinka, bitterly. “We need not stain our hands with such as he. Captain Yang is waiting, Mr. Reid. He will be disappointed if you are late.”

Kurt looked at the door and the square of blackness it embraced. He started to move away. But Varinka would not so easily let him go. She was upon him in an instant. She struck him with her right hand and then thrust him away from her.

“You filthy beast! Get out! Get out!”

Kurt turned on his heel, amazed, and went through the door. The Japanese officer laughed behind him. The guards raised their rifles hopefully.

Kurt went on across the yard toward the gate. Captain Yang was waiting. Captain Yang had tried to kill him once, and now . . .

He started through the entrance, staring bleakly at the dark, deserted street. From any corner death might strike.

Not until then did he notice that his jacket pocket was sagging. He put his hand inside and encountered an automatic pistol. Astounded, he fingered it, turning it over before his face. Suddenly he understood. He looked back toward the hut.

Varinka Savischna had put that there. She had not sent him away unarmed. She had made him go because no chance was left at Japanese hands.

He knew, standing there, already expecting the numbing shots of bullets through his back, that Varinka loved him and that he loved her.