Page 3 of The Enemy Within

  "My God!" said Bang-Bang and hastily removed his cap.

  "Now, we have everything to the right of the eleva­tor," said Izzy. "So if you will come along..."

  They were confronted by sign company men who were just finishing the placing of a series of bronze com­pany nameplates to direct visitors down the vast stretches of marble hallways. Bang-Bang was in the way and I couldn't read them.

  "Now, this first office," said Izzy, "is just one of the mask companies." The sign said:

  INCREDIBLE OPPORTUNITIES, INC.

  President: G. H. Ginsberg Secretary: Rebecca Mossberg

  Izzy opened the door. A palatial waiting room with all-chrome furniture and murals of industries was being cleaned industriously by a young man. A further door inside had President on it in chrome.

  But Izzy did not take them in. "I didn't get a chance to finish up," he said. "Some cleaning and lettering is still in progress. I am sorry."

  He took them to the next office. The door sign said:

  FANTASTIC MERGERS, INC.

  A Delaware Corporation

  President: Isaac Stein

  Secretary: Rabbi Schultman

  The waiting room was in black onyx. Two young girls with their hair done up in bandannas were cleaning. Izzy shut the door quickly.

  One after another, Izzy opened up office suites. The Reliable this and the Astonishing that and each one with different presidents and secretaries and boards. Each one was furnished in superlative, startlingly different furni­ture.

  "Who are all these people?" said Heller. "These presidents and secretaries and things?"

  "They're not interlocking!" said Izzy hastily. "They cannot be penetrated by your enemies. They even have different furnishings but that's because this was an office furniture firm and it liked to show off its wares."

  "But who are these people?" said Heller.

  Izzy sighed. "Some were very hard to contact but we know where they all are now. Some live in Curacao, some in Israel, there's even one who lives in an old folks home in New Jersey. We have all their signatures," he added hastily.

  Izzy pushed on. "Now, I regret to say, we come to one that is giving us trouble. Not the corporation. The decoration." The door sign said:

  THE BEAUTIFUL TAHITI GILT-EDGED BEACHES

  WONDER CORPORATION

  Incorporated in Tahiti

  President: Simon Levy

  Secretary: Jeane le Zippe

  When he opened the door, an expanse of bamboo fur­niture was tumbled about. The walls were white and bare. "It's the mural. I didn't get a chance to arrange any­thing. I am sorry." He shut the door hastily.

  They went along further. "But here is one that IS fin­ished," said Izzy. On the door it said:

  MULTINATIONAL

  Inside, everything was of solid steel. A map of the world spread around all four walls, all done in facsimiles of dif­ferent monies.

  "There's no President sign on that inside door," said Bang-Bang, and he went to open it.

  Revealed to view was an office, very bare, and pack­ing boxes for desks and a mattress in the corner.

  Izzy hastily got the door away from Bang-Bang and closed it. "That's my office," he said. "But I do have something nice to show you now."

  He led them down a hall and they came to an impos­ing door at the end. "I was able to get this finished. I knew how important it was."

  There was no sign as such on the door. But there was a picture of a modern Boeing airliner.

  "You see?" said Izzy. "Kind of hidden. That's a JET! Are you pleased?"

  "You mean this is my office?" said Heller.

  Izzy opened the door.

  A vast suite was before them, done in the most modern design. Side doors opened off it. A huge white desk sat before the windows. And from the big windows one could view the whole panoramic sweep of lower Man­hattan. Impressive!

  Heller went over and tried the big, white chair. He fiddled with some drawers. He lifted the white phones

  and found them live. He went over to some recessed cab­inets and checked them. Then he noticed the white shag rug was so thick he was sinking in it to his ankles.

  "I know you will want to add your personal touches," said Izzy, "so it's sort of bare."

  Heller said, "It's great! A Fleet Admiral couldn't ask for better! What are the side doors?"

  Izzy went over, opening one. "They're your own bathroom and shower. A little day room to rest in." He opened another, "A secretary's boudoir." And the last one, "Golf clubs and things. But come along. I won't bore you with all the other corporations. But I do have to show you the communications room."

  He led them down a hall and, as they passed doors, Heller noted that Hong Kong, Singapore, London, Switz­erland, Liechtenstein and the Bahamas all seemed to be represented.

  Izzy opened a door on a mass of telex equipment, tele­phones and electronic calculators. A young man was sit­ting at a telex machine typing out a message.

  "This," said Izzy, "is all hooked up and ready to roll. We can get in reports of exchange values of curren­cies anywhere in the world. The bank accounts are ready to function and so are the brokers. By buying a currency in one place and selling it in another where it is higher priced, we can send money whizzing around the world making money. Every hour this equipment sits here idle is costing us a fortune."

  "So why is it idle?" said Heller.

  "No money to start," said Izzy. "Now downstairs," he glanced at his watch, "a Brinks Armored Truck will draw up in about ten minutes. It will take you home and you can have the guards transport your hundred thou­sand right back here and tomorrow morning we will be in business." He looked at Heller apologetically. "It won't make any huge fortune at first. But the exchange profits will pay all our monthly expenses and we can get down to serious moneymaking when we have these few essentials completed."

  I thought, what a con artist!

  Heller and Bang-Bang and Izzy went down and, despite rush hour and parking jams, there was the armored truck. They got in and it roared away.

  A few minutes later, Heller took the hundred thou­sand out of his safe at the Gracious Palms. Izzy put it in a sack and away he and the armored truck went. Again, no receipt.

  In the lobby, Bang-Bang said, "Hey, who am I work­ing for—Tahiti or Delaware? I forgot. Jesus, I never seen such office setups in my life. And in the Empire State Building! We're big time, kid. Do I wear a tuxedo or a general's uniform?"

  Vantagio came out. "Where's the bodies?"

  "Jesus, Vantagio," said Bang-Bang. "You ought to see this kid's offices!"

  "What offices?"

  "Half a whole God (bleeped) floor of the Empire State Building!" said Bang-Bang.

  Vantagio looked at Heller. "You got to keep Bang-Bang off the booze. He's getting the DTs. I came out to tell you Mike called and said your cab would be ready tomorrow. You better go over and get it, Bang-Bang."

  "Can't," said Bang-Bang. "It's not Saturday night."

  "Hey, what's this Saturday night?" said Heller.

  "That's when the Civic Betterment League meets," said Vantagio. "All the top officials of the city. So there's not much of anything checked up on at that time. Bang-Bang, being on parole, wouldn't risk much if he was out of town a few hours."

  "You mean everybody meets?" said Heller.

  "Yeah, the heads of police and the mayor and so on. It's a bad thing for us, too. Faustino Narcotici presides and he hands out all the Mafia payoff dough at that time. It's worse on the first Saturday night of the month— the governor and state officials are there, too."

  "Well, if it isn't Saturday night, I'll go over and get the cab myself," said Heller.

  "Hell, no, you can't do that!" said Vantagio. "Don't you know nobody under eighteen is permitted to drive at all in New York City? That's why you got to have a driver. I'll send one of the boys over for it. But what's this about the Empire State Building?"

  "Just a little sideline that came up," said Heller.

  Pos
sibly it was the way Heller said it. Too casual. But a little stirring of alarm began to rise. Suppose Izzy didn't steal his money?

  In college, two cars, the Geological Survey and now this strange new development of the Empire State Building ... My wits simply would not mesh! Only one thing was loud: Heller was up to no good.

  And I had not had the slightest word from the New York office concerning agents Raht and Terb. Heller had to be stopped! I couldn't figure out what he was doing but it had to be stopped anyway. The man was a howling menace! A private office with a view of all lower Man­hattan indeed!

  Chapter 3

  Keeping the hours I kept due to time differences between New York and Turkey, I had fallen into the neces­sity of sleeping all morning. I was furious to find that old (bleepard) Karagoz standing beside my bed bowing and muttering. I stared at my watch. It was only eleven! I glared at him.

  "Two men in yard, Sultan Bey." He waved his hands helplessly. "They come in. They sit down on bench. They refuse to go away."

  "I'll make them go away!" I shouted. I grabbed a ten-gauge shotgun and sprang to the door.

  "Sultan Bey!" shouted Karagoz. "You got no clothes on!"

  I rushed out anyway. Nobody is going to tell me what to do!

  Two men were sitting on a bench, sure enough. They were faced the other way. I leaped in front of them, levelling the gun.

  It was Raht and Terb!

  Raht's mustache stuck out even further in surprise.

  Terb's swarthy, plump face went a bit white.

  "What in the name of seventeen brindle Devils are you doing here?" I thundered at them.

  Raht had the effrontery to put his finger to his lips to shush me.

  Terb was trying to get back on the bench.

  "Account for yourselves!" I thundered even louder.

  Raht was making even more urgent finger motions and I abruptly realized I had been speaking Voltarian. But no matter. When the staff sees me coming, they vanish.

  "We... we obeyed your order," stammered Raht. That was more like it. I had him stammering.

  "You s ... s ... said," quavered Terb, '"Find them and force them to report in.'"

  "We... we were sending radio messages every day and... and so we thought you could only mean to come here."

  So the message was unclear. Leave it to subordinates to take advantage of you.

  "You (bleeped) fools have been watching the bug that was sewn into his clothes. Somebody at the store threw them in the garbage when he bought new clothes!" I levelled the gun barrels at them. "He's not in the Atlan­tic! He's right in that UN whorehouse, the Gracious Palms, having the time of his life!"

  Raht gaped. "How do you know that?"

  Anger had caused me to be incautious. They must never know I had had Heller bugged on Voltar and was monitoring everything he saw or heard. "I have other sources of information. You think you are the only spies in the world? I got spies all over the place. Even spies on you!"

  They seemed cowed so I herded them into the patio of the house. I made them stand there.

  Then I went and put away the gun and got a robe and buzzed the kitchen for some hot kahve, served with lots of sugar, sekerli.

  While I drank it, I got to thinking that maybe this wasn't too bad. I could brief them very exactly. I could also force them to take, no matter how many Voltarian codes it violated, a receiver and decoder.

  I went back, drinking more kahve and keeping them standing. It gave me a certain satisfaction to realize they must have just come off a long plane ride and had had no sleep. It was also nice that it was a boiling hot Turkish September day and that they were probably dying for a cold drink. You have to keep such people in place—riff­raff.

  "You are not going to be executed," I said, to open the conversation and put them at ease. "Unless, of course, you keep fouling up."

  They shifted about uneasily.

  "The agent I have trailing you is a complete mad­man," I said. "But I think I can hold him in check."

  Karagoz and a waiter came in with a silver pitcher of sira that was beaded with mist, and three glasses. I sent two of the glasses and the servants away and sat there sipping the cold drink.

  So far, everything I had done was just textbook. But it made the rest easier.

  "There is a platen," I said. "It is about so big." And I made a motion with my hands. "It is just a sheet with slots in it. Do you know what one is?"

  "A platen code sheet," said Raht.

  "You put it over a piece of paper and write the real message in the slots," said Terb. "And then you fill in the rest of the letter."

  "Your target has one. We must get it!" I said. "Even if it costs you your lives." Also textbook. "It is some­where in his baggage and that baggage is in the old Sec­retary General's suite on the top floor of the Gracious Palms. Do I make myself clear?"

  They both nodded.

  "You are to disguise yourselves as diplomats. You are to pretend to buy services. You are to go to that suite. The door is never locked. He is never there during the day. You are to ransack the place and find that platen! Understood?"

  They nodded.

  "One more thing. Another agent tried to plant a bug there. But there is some sort of interference, some carbon disturbance. You are to find that and disable it."

  They nodded.

  "And one more thing," I said. "You, Raht, must shave off your mustache."

  Horror went over him. "But it hides a knife scar that is very plain and identifies me!"

  "All right," I said. "Then just trim it."

  "My beautiful mustache!"

  One must be firm. "It's better than trimming your throat," I said.

  He got the point.

  "Now, there are no taxis," I said.

  "We just came in one."

  "There are no taxis," I said. "So walk to the air­port, spend the night in the waiting room and get a plane tomorrow morning."

  They nodded glumly.

  I swirled my glass and made the ice in it rattle and tinkle. "Any questions?"

  "Those two devices you gave us with orders to keep them within two hundred miles of him are hidden on the television antenna of the Empire State Building," said Terb. "Is that all right?"

  Hey, that was very all right. The units to relay the signals from Heller's bugs were right above him. "It will serve at the moment," I said, coldly. "Is that all?"

  They nodded.

  I gave the ice in the glass another tinkle. "Then get out. I'm busy."

  They walked away in the boiling sun.

  I rejoiced. I had them under control now. I would soon have the platen so that I could forge Heller's reports back to Voltar. And then BLOWIE! Dead Heller.

  Life was sweet!

  Chapter 4

  The following morning, suddenly, abruptly and deli­ciously, life became much sweeter.

  The taxi driver came rushing in. "Quick! Quick! Utanc will be here in two hours!"

  My new Turkish dancing girl!

  I had been eating breakfast. I leaped up and ran about the patio. I had overturned the kahve service and my feet crushed the remainder of the fragile cups.

  He seemed to want to say something else. I stopped in front of him.

  "There's another five thousand U.S. dollars for the camel and truck drivers. They have to have it before they will deliver her."

  I pushed the five thousand at him. He took it. "Now, where is her room?" he demanded.

  I ran about a bit more. The villa had plenty of rooms. There was one huge one that opened on a private area of the garden and had its own bath. "That's her room."

  He looked over the locks on the inside of the doors. "I'll have to call a locksmith to rush down and strength­en these," he said. "She's very shy and afraid of things."

  He called a locksmith. He came back. "He'll be here at once. That's another ten thousand Turkish lira."

  I gave it to him.

  "You've seen her?" I demanded. "How is she?"

  "I haven't got
time to talk now," he said and rushed out and drove away at high speed.

  I called Melahat Hanim, the housekeeper. "Get this room ready, quick."

  "I prepared another smaller room," she said.

  "No, no. Prepare this room."

  The staff ran around and got the best rugs moved in and set the place all up.

  The locksmith arrived in an old truck and promptly started drilling and hammering and pounding. He was fastening ornate Turkish iron bars across the inside of the doors. Two helpers arrived in another truck. They had brand-new, latest-style Yale locks and started putting these in place.

  With me yelling at them, the staff ran around in cir­cles and took out what they had brought in, brought in what had been taken out, forgot the towels, couldn't find the towels, took my towels and put those in the bathroom.

  The gardener rushed around and cut flowers and stuffed them into vases.

  We were finally all ready.

  We waited.

  I went out in the road several times to look. No Utanc yet. Four hours went by. I had just decided to go to my secret room to check up on things when one of the small servant boys came screaming in, "The truck is coming, the truck is coming!"

  It was a huge truck. It couldn't get in the gate. It had eight laborers on it. It was piled with metal trunks!

  The eight laborers jumped down in the road and one by one began to carry the big trunks in. Karagoz directed them and got them to put them down in various spots in the new room.

  The taxi driver arrived.

  The foreman of the laborers came over and demanded fifteen thousand lira. The truck driver explained to me that this was a local truck and not cov­ered in the five thousand U.S. I paid.

  The truck drove away.

  The taxi driver went into the room and locked the garden door from the inside. Then he set the locks on the patio door. He demanded all the spare keys. He gathered them in his palm and then threw them into the room. He then shut the patio door so that it was locked and could only be opened from within.

  "Wait a minute," I said. "Where's Utanc?"