“It’s not well known,” said their visitor. “And you won’t find it on any chart.”
“Where is it?”
Abel Bendigo looked regretful. “I really mustn’t say, Mr. Queen. It’s one of our strictest rules. You’ll be taken there and returned to this apartment when the job is done.”
“How far away is it?”
“I wish I were free to tell you.”
“How long does it take to get there from New York?”
“Planes travel fast these days. Not too long.”
Ellery shrugged. “I’m afraid, Mr. Bendigo, I’ll have to think it over.”
“And I’m afraid,” said Inspector Queen, getting out of his chair, “I’ll have to be moseying on down to Centre Street. Interesting experience meeting you, Mr. Bendigo, and I’ve never meant anything more in my life.”
“Call your office first, Inspector.”
“What for?”
“You’ll find that, as of this morning, you’re on leave of absence. On full pay.”
“Now I know this is a pipe dream!”
The Inspector, russet about the ears and neck, stamped past Brown Shirt into his bedroom. Abel Bendigo quietly waited. Ellery heard his father’s voice, on his direct wire to Police Headquarters, raised in outrage, as if a leave of absence on full pay were cruel and unusual punishment. When the Inspector came out, however, he was looking thoughtful.
“Nobody seems to know how it happened or why!”
Bendigo smiled again. “Mr. Queen, you’ll change your mind?”
“I can’t very well change it when I haven’t yet made it up.”
Bendigo rose, glancing at his wristwatch. Something final glittered from his eyeglasses. “I was asked not to use this unless it became necessary, Mr. Queen. You’ve left me no choice.” He handed a long envelope to Ellery. Then he turned to one of the windows, clasping his hands at his back.
The Inspector glared at the envelope. It was addressed by hand to Mr. Ellery Queen, New York City. The reverse was heavily sealed with wax.
Ellery broke the seal. The envelope contained a single sheet of very stiff notepaper. The embossing at the top of the sheet made him glance quickly at their visitor.
The letter was entirely handwritten:
MY DEAR MR QUEEN:
This request has no official status and is made in strictest confidence. Regardless of your decision, I must ask you to destroy this letter immediately upon reading its contents.
Will you put your professional services at the disposal of bearer?
In doing so you would be performing an act of high citizenship, in a matter in which your government has a vital interest but in which it cannot participate by the normal means, for reasons which I may not disclose.
It would be helpful, in the event you undertake the assignment, if your father would make a special point of joining you.
Yours sincerely,
Ellery studied the famous signature for a long moment. “Mr. Bendigo, are you aware of the contents of this letter?”
“I have a fair idea of what it says,” was the dry reply.
“But why me?” muttered the Inspector.
“What, Inspector?” Abel Bendigo turned.
“Excuse us, Mr. Bendigo, for just a few minutes,” said Ellery. Bendigo said nothing.
Blue Shirt stood aside and the Queens went into Ellery’s study. Ellery shut the door in the blank face and carefully turned the key.
Mrs. Fabrikant’s vacuum cleaner was still keening behind the bedroom door.
“I don’t get it,” murmured Ellery. “Granted that King Bendigo is large pumpkins, that his activities touch on national interests, and that the Bendigo name drags enough weight to get a letter like this out of Washington — why either of us?”
“If this isn’t a forgery, son.”
“Somehow I don’t see forgery in that fellow’s horoscope.”
“Call Washington,” said his father. “Just for the hell of it.”
Ellery put the call through with some excitement and no conviction. Yet six minutes later, against all reason, he heard the voice of the letter writer in his ear. There was no mistaking those dry, easy tones.
“No, it’s all right, Mr. Queen, I was hoping you’d check. When B. asked for a letter, I wrote it with care.” The speaker chuckled. “In spite of the seal.”
“May I talk freely, sir?”
“This is a private line.”
“Was it B.’s idea to hire me?”
“Yes.”
“You’re aware, of course, of the nature of the case?”
“Yes, indeed. Someone is threatening His Majesty’s life.” The dry tones were drier than usual. “B. thinks he knows who it is, wants confirmation. Since he does, I reminded him that a brace of good heads is preferable to one, and I suggested your father go along, too. I have something — I think I used the word ‘special’ — in mind for Inspector Queen. Are you going to accept?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good! The United States government is extremely — if unofficially — interested in keeping up to date on the state of His Majesty’s health. Is your father there?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Let me talk to him.”
Inspector Queen said, “Yes, sir?” and then he listened for a long time. After which he said, “Yes, sir,” and hung up.
“I thought that last paragraph concealed a weenie,” muttered Ellery. “What does he want you to do, Dad?”
“Give him a confidential report on Bendigo Island. What’s on it, who’s on it — plant, personnel, plans, purposes, detail maps if possible — the whole picture, Ellery.”
“Do you mean to say our own government doesn’t know—!”
“Apparently not. Or what they know is sketchy or not up to date. So I’ve got to grow a tail in my old age,” said the Inspector incredulously, “and make like the Trojan horse.”
“What fun.”
They grinned at each other suddenly, shook hands, and then Ellery went into his bedroom to calm Mrs. Fabrikant, give her some money and instructions about the apartment, and pack a bag. Before leaving he burned the Washington letter and envelope in the brass ashtray on his night table and used the nozzle of Mrs. Fabrikant’s vacuum cleaner to suck up the ashes.
2
The two cars skirted La Guardia Airport and drew up before a hangar with a gilded roof on which was lettered in black the single giant word, BENDIGO. The hangar was filled with aircraft of varying sizes and types, but all uniformly golden and inscribed with the unqualified name. An immense passenger plane loomed before the hangar, its motors warming up. Attendants in black and gold overalls swarmed over the plane.
Blue Shirt carried the bags. A Bendigo plane was taking the air from one of the field runways, and Ellery asked him, “Where’s that one going? Or is such a question on Colonel Spring’s verboten list?”
“Buenos Aires, Johannesburg, Teheran — I wouldn’t know, sir. Hurry, please.”
Brown Shirt was friendlier. “We’ll be on the plane with you... Help you up the step, sir?”
The Inspector growled, “Not if you want to stay healthy!”
They found Abel Bendigo waiting for them in the big ship. Its interior made them blink. It was fitted out like a private railroad car, with deep leather chairs, lamps, books, a central bar, and several compartments. The attendants — Ellery counted five, and he suspected others — wore black and gold uniforms. There were no women attendants and no other passengers.
“We’re taking off at once, gentlemen,” said Abel Bendigo abruptly. “The stewards will see to your wants. I’ll have to ask you to excuse me. My work...” His voice trailed off as he turned away. Two dark-suited, middle-aged men carrying portfolios were waiting for him at the door of one of the compartments. He brushed by them and they followed him quickly. A moment later the compartment door was shut.