Immediately, there was the pressure of a gun barrel at Don's back too, and another thick voice ordered him to proceed into the back seat of the cab. He had absolutely no choice but to obey. He had walked so neatly into their trap. He should have suspected it from the attitude of the desk clerk, from the taxi that was already waiting, its motor running. As he slumped into the seat between the two Communist gunmen, he thought surely he was a dead man.
When the car sped off toward the old Pest area of the city, Don had no idea where they were taking him. It was all their game now, and the two agents were holding the big pistols at each temple of his head, talking in Hungarian and laughing. But their eyes were riveted on Don. They were ready, even eager, it seemed, for him to make the one suspect move that would provide them with an excuse to blow off the top of his head.
After a quarter of an hour, Don guessed, the car made a quick, squealing turn into a driveway, barely slowing down at all until it drove through the portals of a court, the gates held open for them, and then immediately closed, by two men in dark suits. The courtyard surrounded a large, stucco-like house on three sides, the front entrance to the big home obviously on the next parallel street.
The men took him into a room on the ground floor of the house, pushed him down into a chair and quickly bound his hands and legs, passing the rope from his ankles to his waist and then tying it tightly around his neck. If he had struggled the thick fiber would have strangled him.
After checking his bonds, they stepped back. A few moments later the door opened and a slim man well over six feet tall entered the room. The Western agent immediately recognized him as Jon Tzerny, bead of Communist Integrated Intelligence. He came right up to Don, his small beady eyes bright and filled with pleasure. It looked as if it was all he could do not to rub his hands together gleefully.
“So nice to have you with us," he chuckled. "We I have met before, of course, but never in circum-stances quite so appropriate. However, I regret that I have no time to waste on hospitality and niceties." He bent his anemic, perspiring face close to the Western agent. "You have been showing an unusual interest in one of our top scientists during your stay," he went on. "Acting like a good, conscientious member of the Party, she contacted us and told us of your attentions.
“There is not much time and I have no wish to be subtle and play cat-and-mouse with you, Cabot. We both know why you sought out Miss Harnecz. The question is, what did you find out about her that might be useful to your country?"
The Western agent looked him straight in the eye. "I confirmed that she's a lesbian," he told Tzerny. "And that she's only interested in members of her own sex." He shrugged his shoulders. “I know that she's working on a very important missile project for you, but I know nothing about the details of it. She wasn't exactly forthcoming about her work or her love life."
“Yes," Tzerny commented. "However, I doubt very much that you would be returning to the West with such scanty information. If that was all you'd discovered you would certainly not be leaving Hungary yet. Western Intelligence obviously knows these facts already.
"No, I think that wittingly or unwittingly, Miss Harnecz or her fellow-workers have revealed much more than you say about her work for us. You were posing as a Communist security agent. Oh, yes, she saw through your disguise. Miss Harnecz is a phenomenally intelligent woman. But nevertheless, before you got to see her, you had to pass through various checks and the people conducting them may have carelessly given you certain information."
He turned to the two gunmen. «Did you search him yet?" he demanded. When they shook their heads, he gestured at them impatiently. «Idiots I Do it now. He must have a written or taped report. He would post it at the airport or get someone to carry it to the West for him, just in case something happened to him en route."
Tzerny frowned. “Wait a minute. Are you quite sure no one contacted him at the hotel? Did he have an opportunity to pass anything to someone who might be traveling to the West?"
The men shifted uneasily. One of them said: 'Well, there was a girl in the bar this evening. He took her to his room."
The skinny man turned on him, his face livid. "You fool!" he screamed. "Where is she? Didn't you check on her?"
“She’s an airline stewardess,” the man mumbled. “No one said anything to us about intercepting anyone else, we thought he was just making up for not getting to bed with Miss Harnecz.”
“A stewardess!” Tzerny looked as If he could strangle the man with just one of his huge hands. “And you didn’t suspect? This will be dealt with later,” he promised the unhappy man. “Now search him!”
It took only a few minutes for them to find the tape. Tzerny’s eyes gleamed triumphantly. “Ah, the proof!” he exclaimed. He looked at his watch. “It’s now 1:40,” he told them. “Too late to have the girl caught now. I hope for both your sakes that this is the only copy of his report!”
“It is. Don’t worry,” Don said. “You don’t think I’d trust an airline stewardess with dynamite like this, do your He thought quickly. The important thing was to convince them that Erica was simply a pick-up, that she was not involved in any way with the plot to find out exactly what Eva Harnecz was working on. The best way to do this was by telling Tzerny all he knew, leaving nothing out.
“When you play that tape you’ll know what I discovered anyway. So I might as well tell you now,” he said. “You’re right I did pick up quite a lot of information from Eva’s associates and fellow scientists. Enough to make me realize that she’s about to make the biggest breakthrough in missiles so far.
“It still needs a lot of work before the theory can be made a reality, but Eva is well on the way towards finalizing her ideas and putting them into practice.
“So far as we know, she’s the only person in the entire world who can do it. She’s the only scientist in the East or the West who’s come so close to accomplishing such a fantastic feat. I was sent here to check on the rumors and find a chink in her political affiliations that might serve our purpose. Our purpose being, of course, to persuade her to defect to the West.
“That’s about all,” he finished. “Since you’ve picked me up before I can report back, you’ve only got to wipe me out and tighten your security around Miss Harnecz. Haven’t you?”
Tzerny thought for a few minutes, letting the man’s confession turn over in his mind. Finally, he said, “Quite so, quite so. But something about this story I don’t like. You have never struck me as the type of man to admit defeat so easily. Why are you being so frank and open with me… unless you have something hidden up your sleeve?”
Don made no reply. Tzerny weighed the tape in his hand. “No matter,” he said at last “Even if your superiors do get a copy of this tape it will tell them very little that they don’t already know. And the price of this information will be the life of their best-known agent. You, Mr. Cabot!”
Don met Tzerny’s eyes unflinchingly. A single L bare bulb burned over his head, the harsh white light giving the room a ghostly, naked appearance. Tzerny turned away and walked to the door. “When I’m listening to your report, I shall try to think of a suitable end for you,” he promised. “Something befitting your standing in the world of espionage.”
As Tzerny went out, be held a warning finger up at the guards. “At the least sign of movement, however harmless it might appear, shoot him!” he instructed. “This man is highly dangerous.”
He walked out, leaving the door slightly ajar behind him. The two gunmen stood in front of. Don, watching him intently, scarcely blinking. For a moment, he felt completely resigned to his fate; he seemed listless and apathetic, hoping only that Tzerny's killing would be as quick and painless as possible. Though he knew very well that the Communist security chief would prolong his agony for as long as he could.
Erica's face loomed up suddenly in his mind, reminding him that life had been-could be-worth living and exciting. All right, so this particular mission had proved a failure, at least as far as he was concerned. So what? In the past there had been many where against all odds he had come off best. And you couldn't hope to win them all, Don reminded himself.
What had happened to his private promise that he would go out fighting? He began to cast around for something that might turn the tables, provide him with a "miracle."
He had no illusions that they wouldn't shoot him if he made a suspicious movement. The men were in Tzerny's black books already through their negligence over Erica, their eyes were wide and staring, waiting to use their guns if he gave them the slightest excuse.
While their search had been thorough, they had missed the tiny pellet of gas concealed in his ring. The center had been scooped out and it only required a brief, sudden Hick to send the pellet hurtling out towards them. He began to clench the finger against his palm, moving it as slowly as possible.
With luck, they wouldn't even notice the minute, highly concentrated pellet of gas until it had started to overpower them. Don let it go!
They didn't seem to have spotted the unobtrusive outward flick of his finger. He waited, holding his breath and trying not to draw their attention to it. His trusty razor blade was already concealed between his fingers, dropped into them from its hiding place under his watch strap.
The gas worked quickly. Before either of the men were able to react and squeeze the triggers of their guns it had seeped into their eyes and throats, blinding and choking them.
Their guns fell from their fingers to the floor as their hands went automatically to their streaming eyes. It was as if acid had been suddenly thrown into them and the men staggered, gasping, around the room, blinded and in terrible pain.
Don's eyes, too, were smarting. But he swiftly cut through the strands of rope binding his wrists and then tore the blade across the cord which secured his ankles. Leaving the noose still around his neck, he leaped up from the chair and smashed the flat of his hand into the nape of their necks in two deadly karate blows.
The men fell heavily to the floor and he snatched up both their guns. The scuffle didn't seem to have attracted Tzerny's attention. And when Don edged himself silently into the adjoining room he could see why.
The Russian security head was hunched over a miniature tape recorder, earphones clamped to his head, listening to Don's report.
"Sorry there's no time for a proper farewell!" he called loudly. Tzerny started to get up from his chair, jaw dropping in amazement. Then Don fired twice, the bullets slamming into the scrawny body and sending the man careening backwards across the table.
The Western agent snatched up the tape from the spool and thrust it into his pocket. Outside, the car waited unguarded. He scrambled into the driver's seat and reached out for the ignition. The key was missing! Cursing, he started to climb out of the car, then heard voices coming from the house.
Attracted by the shots, other members of the security force were probably at this very moment discovering Tzerny's body. He debated whether to risk a gun fight, judging his chances of picking them off as they came out of the house. Then he decided against it. It was too risky. Better to make a break for it and go into hiding for the time being.
In any case, the frontiers would be well-guarded: the airports and sea-ports would be on the look-out for him and he couldn't hope to make it across the border tonight.
When Western Intelligence heard of Tzerny's death they would want to give him further instructions, possibly requiring him to stay in the East and tie up any loose ends that remained. With the assassination of the important Communist security chief, the scheme to find out about Eva Harnecz's research had taken on a new significance.
So far as he was aware, no one else knew that he had discovered quite so much about her work. Tzerny would only have trusted the two men sent to intercept him. It was doubtful whether any other Communist agents were let in on the reason for Don's apprehension.
So it seemed to him entirely possible that he hadn't failed after all. That "Alfa" might want him to remain in Budapest and assist the girl agent who would doubtless be brought in to seduce the lesbian Eva Harnecz.
Don got out arid walked briskly for almost an hour, turning his coat collar up against the driving snow and sleet. No one appeared to be following him, and he was able to get his bearings and make for a Western Embassy. That was the safest place for him at the moment, he thought.
And he realized with a start of surprise that he did want to prolong his life as much as possible after all! Silently, he breathed a prayer of thanks to Erica for her gift of confidence. By the time he reached the Embassy gates he was feeling more cheerful and alive than he had been for years.
So much for gamblers' superstition, he thought wryly. All you need to break that particular fallacy was a beautiful girl!
Don showed his I.D. card to the guard on duty and rang the bell. The first thing he must do was telephone "Alfa". They had a scrambled telephone line to the West at the Embassy and it was important that his boss was put in the picture as soon as possible.
Within half an hour he was telling the old man that he would be on call at the Allied Embassy, awaiting further instructions. His report should reach Headquarters by midday.
Don received quite a shock when "Alfa" told him, that he would be getting the report by messenger! "You ought to have realized that Erica Sondgaard was one of our people," "Alfa" told him. "What's happened to your intuition, Don?"
"Well, I'll be damned!" he exclaimed, replacing the phone. “So she was in on the whole thing!" He chuckled quietly, then sobered; reflecting that if “Alfa" had seen fit to provide him with a “guardian angel," it meant that he, too, feared that Don was slipping. Never mind. That was all in the past now. He had got himself out of a scrape with as much aplomb as any of his past encounters with foreign agents.
"Don Cabot!" the voice of the friendly Western ambassador suddenly greeted him as the door opened. «It's great to see you again. You saved the lives of six of our men last November in Istanbul. The Embassy is yours, my boy. You may have the V.I.P. guest suite until we can figure a way to get you out of Budapest. And… what else can I get you? Liquor? Food? Eh…?"
“You are most kind, Mr. Ambassador," Don said, I standing up as he bowed to the West European diplomat. “I… I seem to remember hearing that our former Western agent, Doreen Fisque is now assistant security officer here at your embassy. I'd love to see her again. We worked assignments together in Brussels and Vienna."
“Oh-ho!" the Ambassador said with a chuckle, «Of I course! She speaks of you often. She lives here in the compound. You go up to the V.I.P. suite, my good friend. Clean up and take a nap. I'll have a hearty breakfast brought up to you about noon. And… for security reasons, of course, I'll have Miss Fisque bring it to you. She will then have the rest of the day off."
Don had an immediate mental picture of Doreen Fisque standing in front of him naked, her 38-24-36 I body beckoning to him. And then there was that special way he liked to…
"Thank you, Mr. Ambassador," Don said with a pleased smile.
“Get a good night's sleep, my boy," the Ambassador said with a knowing, friendly, smile. “I'm sure you two will have a lot to talk over… "