There was an angry metallic gabble in the phone. Philston scowled down at it.
"That will be all, J! You know your job — he is to be kept under constant surveillance until this thing is accomplished. I hold you responsible. Yes, everything is proceeding on schedule and as planned. Hang up now. No. I will not be in contact again until this thing is over. You do your job and I will do mine." Philston put the phone down with a bang.
Pete Fremont lit a cigarette and waited. J? Johnny? Johnny Chow? He began to hope. If it worked out that way he wouldn't have to use his own half complete plan. He watched Philston warily. If the Fremont cover was blown things were going to get hot. If he had to go he wanted to take Philston with him.
Richard Philston looked at him. "Fremont?"
The AXEman breathed again. "Yeah?"
"Do you know, or have you heard, of a man called Johnny Chow?"
Pete nodded. "I've heard of him. Never met him. The word is that he's honcho for the local Chicoms. I don't know how true it is."
Philston came around the desk. Not too close to the big man. He scratched bis chin with a plump forefinger.
"Listen well, Fremont. From now on you'll be walking the razor's edge. That was Chow on the phone just now. He wants you. The reason he wants you is that he, and I, decided some time ago to use you as a newspaperman to plant a story."
Pete watched him narrowly. It was beginning to jell.
He nodded. "Sure. But not the story? This Johnny Chow wants me to plant another story?"
"Precisely. Chow wants you to plant a story blaming the Eta for everything that is going to happen. I agreed to that, naturally. You will have to take it from there and play it that way."
"I see. That's why I was snatched off the street — you had to talk to me first."
"Right again. No real difficulty there — I can cover that by saying, as I have said, that I personally wanted to give you instructions. Chow will not know what instructions, naturally. He should not be suspicious, or no more than usual. We don't really trust each other and we each have our separate organizations. By turning you over to him I will appease him a bit. I had intended to do so in any case. I have few men and I cannot spare them to watch you."
Pete gave him a sour grin. "You feel that you have to watch me?"
Philston went back to his desk. "Don't be a fool, Fremont. You are sitting on one of the great stories of this century, you have twenty-five thousand dollars of my money and you have not yet done your job. Surely you didn't expect me to let you run around free?"
Philston pressed a button on his desk. "You shouldn't have any trouble. All you really have to do is stay sober and keep your mouth shut. And since Chow thinks you have been hired to plant the Eta story you can go about setting it up, as you say, just as you would have to do normally. The only difference is that Chow won't know which story you are setting up until it is too late. There will be someone here in a minute now — any last questions?"
"Yeah. A great big one. If I'm going to be under constant surveillance how am I going to get away from Chow and his boys to plant the story? As soon as he knows the Emperor has been assassinated he'll kill me. It will be the first thing he does."
Philston stroked his chin again. "That is a difficulty, I know. You must depend a great deal on yourself, of course, but I will help all I can. I am sending a man with you. One man is all I can spare, and all that Chow will permit. As it was I had to insist, on the grounds of maintaining liaison.
"You will be taken to the riot scene at the Palace grounds tomorrow, of course. Dimitri will go with you, ostensibly to help guard you. Actually, at a time best determined between the two of you, he will help you break away. You two will have to work it out together. Dimitri is a good man, very tough and dedicated, and he will manage to get you free for a few moments. After that you will be on your own."
There was a tapping at the door. "Come," said Philston.
The man who entered was a fugitive from a pro basketball team. The AXEman figured him at a good six feet eight. He was as thin as a slat and his long skull was mirror bald. He had acromegalic features and little dark eyes and his suit hung on him like an ill-fitting tent. His jacket sleeves were much too short and revealed dirty cuffs.
"This is Dimitri," said Philston. "He will watch you, and over you, to the best of his ability. Don't let his appearance fool you, Fremont. He is very fast and not at all stupid."
The tall scarecrow stared dully at the AXEman and nodded. He and Philston went to a far corner of the room and conferred briefly. Dimitri kept nodding and saying, "Da… Da…"
Dimitri went to the door and waited. Philston extended a hand to the man he thought was Pete Fremont. "Good luck. I will not see you again. Certainly not if all goes as planned. But I will be in contact and, if you deliver the goods, as you Yanks say, you will be paid as promised. Just keep that in mind, Fremont. Another twenty-five thousand to come in Hong Kong. Good-bye."
It was like shaking hands with a can of worms. "Good-bye," said Pete Fremont. Kick Carter thought: "I'll see you again, you sonofabitch!"
He managed to brush against Dimitri as they went out the door. There was a shoulder clip, a heavy gun, under the left shoulder.
The two Japanese gunmen were waiting in the foyer. Dimitri growled something at them and they nodded. They all went out and got into the black Mercedes. The sun had broken through the overcast and the lawn was a sparkling new green. There was a delicate smell of cherry blossoms in the steamy air.
Some comic opera country, thought Nick Carter as he climbed into the back seat with the giant. A hundred million people in an area smaller than California. Picturesque as hell. Paper umbrellas and motorcycles. Moon watchers and murderers. Insect listeners and rioters. Geishas and go-go girls. The whole thing a bomb that was fizzing on a short fuse and he was sitting on top of it.
The tall Japanese rode in front with the chauffeur. The short Japanese sat in back on a jump seat and watched Nick. Dimitri watched Nick from his corner. The Mercedes wheeled left out of the gate and headed back for central Tokyo. Nick sank back in the cushions and tried to sort it all out.
He thought about Tonaka again and it was not pleasant. There might still be a chance, of course, that he could do something. He was, even if a little late, being turned over to Johnny Chow. That was what Chow wanted — Nick now knew why — and it should be possible to save the girl from further torture. Nick scowled at the floor of the car. He would pay off that debt when the time came.
He had gotten one enormous break. He was the beneficiary of the mistrust between the Chicoms and Philston. They were uneasy allies, their liaison was faulty and that could be exploited farther.
They both thought they were dealing with Pete Fremont, thanks to Tonaka's guts and brains. No one could really stand torture for very long, not when it was administered by an expert, yet Tonaka had screamed and given them a false lead.
A thought occurred to Killmaster then and he cursed his own stupidity. He had been worrying about Johnny Chow knowing Fremont by sight. He didn't. He couldn't — otherwise Tonaka would never have given him the name in the first place. So his cover with Chow was unbroken. He could play it, as far as possible, the way Philston had indicated, all the time watching for a way to save the girl.
She would have had that in mind when she screamed his name. He was her only hope and she knew it. She would be hoping now. Bleeding and sobbing in some hole and waiting for him to come and get her out.