The Death Strain (14 page)

Lin Wang's purse was on a small table beside a lamp. I emptied it and the usual melange of hairpins, lipstick, loose change and handkerchiefs fell out — along with two small, compact nose plugs. I turned them over in my hand for a moment and then dropped them back onto the table. There was nothing to learn here. I walked out and went down the stairs. I was moving down the street when I heard the whine of police-car sirens approaching the tenement behind me. The shirtsleeved stoop-lounger had taken off, I noticed. Seeing a little triangular park, not more than a block long, I sat down on one of the deserted benches. I still hadn't the answers I wanted and the terrible uneasiness was still raging within me. But certain things were now beyond question and I began to put pieces together as I sat there alone. I would call Hawk but I wanted to put together as much as possible before I did.

The whole thing had been a setup, designed to draw me into it and kill me. The original call had come from our cooperative friend Chung Li. I grunted. Cooperative, my ass!

I spent about a half hour ruminating and then called Hawk. He was still at the office. When I gave him a brief run-down on what had happened he had to agree that I'd been marked for murder by Chinese Intelligence.

"But I'll be damned if I know why, Nick," he said to me. "Except that they're sure a weird bunch. You know what they've just done? They've withdrawn from the World Leadership Conference! They're not going to participate in it."

"They've withdrawn?" I exclaimed. "With the conference scheduled to open tomorrow morning? That is a weird note, all right."

"They suddenly claim that Mao and his staff haven't had time to prepare for proper participation," Hawk said. "Now that's pure bull and the damnedest reason to pull out of a hat at the last minute."

Hawk paused for a moment. "None of it makes much sense. Look, I'll be in New York in a couple of hours. We're using that old brownstone at East Forty-Fifth as a field base during the conference. Charlie Wilkerson's there now. Go on over, get some rest, and I'll see you soon."

It was a welcome idea and as I started over to the address he'd mentioned, I wondered if there wasn't some real connection between the Red Chinese withdrawal from the conference and Chung Li's attempt to kill me. Once they withdrew, there was no need for cooperation, but he still had a golden opportunity. He'd dangle bait he knew I'd go for and have his revenge. That could explain the whole thing.

I quickened my pace, hailed a cab and went to the brownstone building at the edge of First Avenue, overlooking the lights of the East River. Wilkerson sent me into a room to get some sleep and got my clothes to an all-night tailor for pressing. I woke a few hours later when Hawk arrived. He still looked tired and drawn, and I slipped into my freshly pressed clothes to join him for coffee in a ground-floor anteroom.

"They've got to have a reason for suddenly acting as though the conference was…" I let the sentence hang there, unfinished, and I saw Hawk's eyes darken as they met mine.

"You were going to say 'contaminated, " he said very slowly. "No." He was trying unsuccessfully to put conviction into his words. "No, it couldn't be."

"It not only could be, it
is,"
I said, rising from the chair, cold excitement seizing me. All the missing little pieces were suddenly falling into place.

"You think the virus is intended for use against the World Leadership Conference," Hawk said flatly.

"That's got to be it," I said. "It explains everything — Chung Li's attempt to stop me from returning to Carlsbad. It wasn't that he was afraid Carlsbad might reveal where he'd hidden the X–V77. He was afraid Carlsbad would tell what the plan was."

"You think the Chinese Reds are working with Carlsbad's large Japanese?" Hawk asked.

"No, I don't think that," I replied. "But they saw a golden opportunity unfold before their eyes and decided to take advantage of it. Somehow, before the fight at the farmhouse, they found out Carlsbad's plan. Maybe they heard him and the others going over it when they sneaked up on them. Then in the fight, Carlsbad was shot in the head and the others escaped. Chung Li knew they'd carry on to fulfill the plan. He had his smooth little story all ready for me when I arrived. Ostrov swallowed it without blinking an eye."

"I did too," Hawk said quietly.

"It was reasonable," I answered.

"They kill every important person in a position of leadership in the world," Hawk said. "With one neat blow, as they're all together at the Conference."

"Except for the Red Chinese," I reminded him. "They won't be there. Their men will be safe and sound. When the X–V77 has finally killed off every other leader, there will be a world-wide vacuum of gargantuan proportions, a vacuum in which they could move any way they wanted to."

"You've got to call off the conference before it opens tomorrow morning," I said.

Hawk looked at me as though I'd taken leave of my senses. "Impossible!" he snapped. "It can't be turned off now. Certainly not because we've got ourselves a theory, no matter how good it is. Can you see us convincing all those people of this fantastic thing? And can you see what it would bring down on America's head? Besides, the sheer mechanics make calling it off impossible. It's all gone too far to stop."

He was right of course, and I got a sudden chill. As I listened to Hawk's flat, monotone voice, I wondered if he really believed what he was saying. Was he trying to reassure me or himself?

"They can t pull it off, you know, even if they show up to try," he said. 'The United Nations grounds and the surrounding area is going to see the greatest concentration of security forces ever assembled in one spot"

He opened his attaché case and drew out a map of the United Nations area. "The CIA is handling security clearance for everyone to be admitted and all inside protection. They are assisted by the United Nations internal security staff. They have been augmented by thoroughly screened private police agencies. The FBI and Treasury agents are handling security inside the Assembly Hall itself. At the seven entrances to the Assembly Hall we will have our men stationed, scanning every person who enters, watching for anyone who might try to get inside with forged clearance. Certainly they'd spot someone the size of Carlsbad's Japanese. They'd get his two normal-size pals, too. You know how eagle-eyed our boys are, Nick."

I nodded. That much was true enough, but the uneasy, edgy feeling I'd carried inside me for the last few days had returned again. Hawk drew a pencil line around the entire eighteen acres of the UN property.

"Outside, the New York Police have saturated the entire area," he said. "They've drawn extra men from every borough. All leaves have been cancelled. First Avenue, Forty-Second Street and Forty-Eighth Street are all crawling with uniformed and plain clothes police. Along the East River, police boats will patrol, and they will be assisted by two Coast Guard patrol boats. It's tight, Nick, covered at every possible spot. They couldn't get close enough to open that vial in the Assembly Hall if they shot it out of a rocket.

"You still don't like it, eh, Nick?" Hawk commented. "Frankly, I don't think they'll show and if they do, they'll see they can't possibly get through."

"They'll show," I murmured. "They've got to, even if it's only to fail. This is their chance, their only chance,"

"All right, " Hawk said, his lips grim. It's still your baby. I won't assign you anywhere. You play it any way you like. Here are your inner security clearance papers. They'll let you go anywhere in the United Nations area."

"Any chance Carlsbad might talk?" I asked, taking the small card and badge.

Hawk shook his head. "He's sinking. Pulse is weaker and his heartbeat has slowed."

"Damn! What time does the conference begin tomorrow?"

"At exactly ten A.M. the Pope will open the conference with a short prayer," he said. "The President of the United States will follow, welcoming the guests."

Hawk walked away. I spied a phone in one of the rooms and put in a call to my place. It rang only once and Rita's voice answered, excitement in her tone.

"Where are you?" she said instantly. "At the airport?"

"I'm still in New York," I said. Even across the telephone wire I could feel her freeze.

"I didn't know it took so long to conduct business," she said.

I chuckled. "It doesn't always, but this time I had a lot to do. Ill be back tomorrow."

"I'll wait," she said, her voice suddenly soft. "A lot longer if I have to. Be careful, Nick."

I hung up and knew I hadn't called just to tell her that. I'd needed to speak to her, a strange, sudden kind of need, almost a premonition that maybe I'd never have another chance. I went back to the little room and lay down on the narrow bed, hardly more than a cot. The time for thinking, for wondering, for worrying, was over. The time for action was at hand.

I forced my eyes to close and made' myself sleep, putting aside all thoughts except the need for rest. I'd learned the technique many years ago. It worked for a few hours.

I woke when dawn beckoned the day and dressed quickly. The city was a sleeping giant still covered with a gray and grimy blanket. I walked slowly across First Avenue toward the United Nations buildings.

I hadn't taken one step onto the avenue when six of New York's finest converged on me. I had to show my clearance pass five more times before I finally got inside the main building. It was good security all right, I had to admit, and maybe Hawk was right. But I kept remembering what tight security they had at the Cumberland plant where it all started.

I glanced at my watch. Six o'clock. In four hours the world would take the first step in a march toward true international cooperation — or an enemy against which there was no defense would strike down its leaders. I began a slow walk of the entire United Nations area, starting inside its walls and moving up from floor to floor.

I was still looking, still checking, still trying to find some hole as the building came alive with more and more people — the regular UN delegates, the special delegates, the important special guests, hordes and hordes of newspaper and television men, all with clearances, all carefully screened. At the seven entrances to the Assembly Hall I saw our men intermingled with the police and the UN guards, their eyes flicking from face to face, boring into every person that approached them. I saw Hawk at one side, standing next to a police captain, and I went over.

"Who has clearance to come in here this morning?" I asked. The police captain looked at a long list in his hand.

"Besides the newspeople, guests and delegates, only the hand-picked and screened employees of the banquet outfit that supplies the UN with tablecloths, napkins and equipment for these huge dinners. One truck, with the men in it, will bring in the needed supplies for the affair."

"And the men have been cleared and screened, you say," I repeated.

"Thoroughly," the captain said. "Their passes carry their photos on them, too."

"Everyone's pass at Cumberland carried a photo, too," I muttered.

Hawk's eves flickered. "And no outsider cracked Cumberland, Nick," he said quietly. "It was Carlsbad, remember, a trusted inside person."

I nodded and sauntered off. A trusted inside person. Could Carlsbad have someone here, on the inside, working with him? Could the strain have been transferred to that person? Then all the security in the world would make no difference. It was a possibility but one I had to discard. To accept it would have meant going home and forgetting about everything. There was no possible way to check out everyone who'd already been cleared.

I glanced at my watch. Nine o'clock. I saw an empty phone booth and slipped inside. I called Walter Reed Hospital and asked about Carlsbad. He was still in a coma and his heartbeat was continuing to weaken. I hung up the phone and walked down the staircase, away from the excited, humming noise of the throng. I should have felt reassured. I hadn't come up with anything. Security was tremendous.

I paused on the main floor and watched as the President of the United States arrived, surrounded by Secret Service men, the New York police and UN guards. I glanced across the main entranceway and saw more uniforms than anything else. Some men were stationed at posts, others moved back and forth, circulating through the crowd. Her Majesty, the Queen of England, entered the building, a gracious, poised figure. The Russians were next, impassive, their smiles fixed. Once again I saw a huge detail of police and security guards with them.

Maybe Hawk had been right after all. What was it he had said, I asked myself.
They couldn't get close enough to open that vial in the Assembly Hall if they shot it out of a rocket.
The remark hung in my mind, waiting for me to examine it again. And then, suddenly, I froze on the spot, the hairs on the back of my neck standing up. Maybe they didn't need to get into the hall itself, nor did they need a rocket. All they needed was something equally effective. I thought of what I'd been told about the properties of the X–V77. Unlike some strains which require personal contact, it was one hundred percent effective airborne. All Carlsbad's men had to do was free it in the Assembly Hall.

My watch said nine thirty-five. I turned and raced down the stairs, past the first basement with its rows of files and offices, past the second one and down into the third where long rows of pipes lined the narrow corridors. I looked down the longest hallway and saw a maintenance man at the far end. I called to him and ran. He waited, watching me race toward him.

I didn't know it then, of course, but at that moment the light turned red on the corner of Third Avenue and Fifty-first Street. The closed panel truck of the Superior Banquet Supply Company came to a halt. The two men in the cab watched a parade of miniskirts cross the intersection. When the doors of their truck were yanked open, they didn't have time to do more than open their mouths before they were killed.