Mrs. Pollifax Pursued Page 14

  She turned to see Carstairs react warmly. "You're not—you can't be—Kadi's friend Sammy? We met, yes—how many years ago? But this is astonishing!"

  "Isn't it?" said Sammat, glowing securely now as he shook hands with him. "I return, sir, from university in the United States after four years away from my country."

  "No!" cried Carstairs in surprise. "Four years! But I must introduce you to my sister Mrs. Reed-Pollifax and her daughter Katherine, and this is my friend John Stover, an anthropologist, and there is one more to our party but I see he has gone ahead. My dear Sammy, we simply cannot part now, after all these years. I remember so well what a good time we had!"

  "Indeed we mustn't, no," Sammy said, looking suddenly mischievous. "We are heading for the palace, which I'm sure you would enjoy very much seeing. It is quite new and most lavish, I hear. May I introduce Clarence Mulimo and Mr. Achille Lecler with whom I traveled? I'm sure they would like you to see the palace, too." He darted a quick glance at Mr. Lecler, whose lips had contracted into such a thin line that he appeared almost lipless; definitely he did not appreciate Sammat's offer of hospitality. "And you must also be in need of refreshment after the long flight."

  Kadi said in a gushing voice, "Oh, I would love to see a palace. A real palace? Mums, did you hear what he said? A real palace, wouldn't it be thrilling?"

  Carstairs gave her a startled glance, smiled faintly, and returned his gaze to Sammat, saying politely, "If it's not an intrusion—?"

  Mr. Lecler said with equal politeness, "It is a most inconvenient time, perhaps tomorrow? There is a reception committee waiting outside, and Sammat is to be presented to the people in only an hour—"

  "Which I'm sure Mr. Carstairs would enjoy seeing, too," said Sammy firmly, and to Mrs. Pollifax, not looking at Kadi, he explained, "It seems that my homecoming has been known for some hours, and the people told that I am returning, our President having died only yesterday."

  Carstairs said in surprise, "But I had forgotten, Sammy, you are King Sammat's grandson!" and to Mrs. Pollifax, "This will be exciting indeed, Sammy being a member of royalty."

  "Royalty!" squealed Kadi, clapping her hands girlishly. "Oh just wait 'til I tell all the kids at home!"

  Sammat smothered a laugh. "Quite so," he said, and ignoring Mr. Lecler he said regally, "You have a car outside? We will leave together."

  "But Sammat—"

  "We go together," Sammy told Mr. Lecler sternly. "He is a friend, you wish me to be miserly? One shares with a friend."

  "I do not like this," said Mr. Lecler warningly, and Mrs. Pollifax observed from the expression on his face that Mr. Lecler could also be ruthless as well as arrogant.

  Sammat turned his back on him to walk beside Carstairs, saying, "How many years has it been, sir?"

  "Too many! Ah, Devereaux, here you are. . .. We've been invited to the palace, and this is the old friend of the Hopkirks' about whom I was telling you. Sammy, this is Monsieur Devereaux."

  Clarence Mulimo had disappeared; Mr. Lecler was clearly outnumbered. They moved in a group toward the brilliant sunshine just beyond the arched entrance, over which hung still another huge photograph with SIMOKO in blazing red letters. Mrs. Pollifax noted that Mr. Lecler gave Carstairs several quick, puzzled glances. Perhaps there was suspicion in his gaze, too, as there very well might be, she reflected, should this man have had anything to do with Chigi Scap Metal and its pursuit of Kadi. Certainly he had taken charge of Sammy and Clarence, there was no doubt about that.

  The reception committee of which he had spoken was waiting outside, although Mrs. Pollifax had never before seen such a sullen-looking group of people, kept firmly in place by scarlet-coated policemen; it seemed obvious they had been rounded up unwillingly for this event.

  Sammat, scrutinizing the faces behind the ropes, gave a cry of "Laraba!" He broke away to stride toward a thin, barefooted woman wearing a red T-shirt, long black skirt, and polka-dotted kerchief. Her closed dark face came to life, she laughed, and they embraced.

  With a sigh Kadi said, "Damn, I'd like to hug her, too, that's Laraba and here I am all gussied up as a blonde in weird clothes."

  "A good friend?"

  "A very good friend, it was she and Rakia, my father's nurse, who hid me and smuggled me out of Ubangiba."

  The sullen faces in the crowd became less sullen; a few men broke ranks to crowd around Sammat and shake his hand, and then Mr. Lecler irritably pointed out that a limousine was waiting. He missed one detail, however: as Sammat returned to them he grinned at Kadi, and in passing said to her softly, "Laraba says hello and welcome, she wasn't fooled for a minute."

  Kadi laughed.

  The grass surrounding the terminal looked a hectic green, like Astro-turf, and the long white limousine incongruous among the battered cars and taxis parked near the entrance. What a curious group we are, thought Mrs. Pollifax; Stover and Devereaux poker-faced, Lecler furious, Kadi and Sammat beaming at each other, and who knew what Carstairs was thinking or feeling? Reaching the limousine it proved difficult to arrange the seating: eventually Mr. Stover volunteered to sit beside the driver but Mr. Lecler was forced to employ a jump seat, obviously resenting this very much.

  As they left the airport behind, Mrs. Pollifax thought that once there must have been a grand design for the approach to the city, because this was the tree-lined boulevard that she had seen from the plane, running in a straight line from airport to palace; unfortunately, years of neglect, coups, and riots had dissipated any grandeur. The parade of dusty trees barely screened the hovels behind them, and the walls of once-prosperous villas were pocked with bullet holes. When the walls ended there was an eruption of colorful, less private life: a crowded marketplace with signs in startling neon shades proclaiming FODIA! COLA! MKATE! MAKALA! CAFÉ!—at which point it became necessary to stop and allow a herd of goats to cross the boulevard.

  "Now as to the program for the rest of the day," said Mr. Lecler, leaning forward in his jump seat to claim Sammat's attention. "Within the hour there will be a spontaneous gathering of the people outside the palace to welcome you, and you will speak to them graciously from the balcony. There is then the President's funeral already being planned, elaborate, of course, and as impressive as our President Simoko's years of rule have been. Later there will be a meeting with the chiefs of the Shambi and Soto tribes to discuss the next government." With a small tight smile he added, "And I have already assured you that we will find something for you to do in that government, after which there will be a state dinner in the Gold Room."

  Mrs. Pollifax, seated beside Sammat, heard him mutter words in a low voice. Silent until now he said, "Tnbul de taym in no dé."

  Only Kadi, seated on the other side of him, understood that in pidgin English he was saying there was a lot of trouble here.

  Mrs. Pollifax only heard her murmur, "That's for sure, bo."

  19

  The approach to the palace was lined with bougainvillea, and then the limousine swept up to an entrance that would surely equal the most luxurious of European hotels, its doors manned by guards in uniform.

  Sammat said calmly, "As you will recall, Mr. Carstairs, my grandfather did not live in a palace but in a house made of earth in the royal compound."

  Carstairs said quickly, "I remember, yes."

  The guards snapped to attention as the limousine stopped, and one of them came forward to open the car's doors. "Ah, Mr. Lecler," he said, and saluted.

  So he really is well known, thought Mrs. Pollifax, making note of this, and perhaps even lives here?

  They were escorted through heavy glass doors into a vast entrance hall of marble, at the end of which hung a gold relief of President Simoko's smiling face. Carstairs, looking around, murmured, "The President did himself well."

  "It would make an excellent hospital or school," pointed out Sammat.

  Lecler, overhearing this, laughed. "I don't think we'd agree on that." To the guard he said, "Joseph, take these people to the Ceremonial Hal
l," and to Sammat, "And you—you will come to my office, please."

  Sammat smiled politely. "I will first see my friends to the hall you speak of," and to Joseph, "I am Sammat Yusufu, and do not know where the Ceremonial Hall is, will you show us? And bring my guests some cold drinks to refresh them."

  The guard's eyes widened. "You—you are Zammat—of Zammat zisanu ndi zitatoV He bowed low.

  Sammy placed a hand on his arm. "Only the grandchild— mdzukulu—of a king, Joseph. No need to bow, just show us the way."

  "Yes, sir!"

  Mr. Lecler looked very nearly apoplectic, but hid it by abruptly turning away to stride toward a gilt door on the left; he opened it and vanished, presumably into an office.

  Joseph led the way up the broad marble staircase, speaking with animation to Sammat in their own language; as Mrs. Pollifax climbed the stairs, Carstairs caught up with her to say pleasantly, sotto voce, "No way to bring weapons into the country, Mrs. P, we may have to rely on Stover's judo, and you and your brown belt you-know-what. Be vigilant." Having said this he accelerated his pace and moved ahead to join John Stover.

  So, thought Mrs. Pollifax, something is going to happen, and she felt reinvigorated.

  Reaching the second floor, they followed Joseph across a wide corridor to a pair of gleaming brass doors that Joseph dramatically swung open for them. Here Mrs. Pollifax stopped, frankly awed by what she saw: a huge room with polished mahogany floors, the right wall lined with french windows opening onto a balcony, and a ceiling that glittered with crystal chandeliers. ... A few steps into the room and her gaze included clusters of gilt chairs with scarlet upholstered seats, and at the far end what looked like a throne. Certainly it was the focal point of the room, a heavy golden stool—surely gold, not gilt—placed squarely against a scarlet tapestry on which two serpents were prominent. On either side of the throne hung matching scarlet curtains on long rods, and Mrs. Pollifax watched with interest as John Stover immediately crossed the room to the curtain on the right and flung it open to reveal a narrow hallway beyond; with a nod to Carstairs he closed the curtain, walked to the other side of the throne and repeated his performance before joining them again.

  Seeing Mrs. Pollifax watch him, he smiled and said lightly, "Just curiosity."

  Amused, Mrs. Pollifax thought, Oh really?

  No one spoke. Devereaux strolled over to the french doors, opened one, and stepped out on the balcony to return, saying, "Already a crowd of people milling around."

  "Herded here by the police?" said Sammat dryly.

  Devereaux shook his head. "Saw no police."

  They turned as the brass doors opened and Joseph arrived carrying a tray holding glasses and a pitcher; an aide followed with a table on which Joseph placed the tray, and then Lecler walked in; at once Mrs. Pollifax felt the change and knew this was what they'd been waiting for. Lecler still carried his black attaché case but now in his other hand he held a sheaf of papers.

  "So," he said almost benevolently, "you have refreshments and the people are gathering below. Sammat, it is nearly time."

  "A beautiful room," Mrs. Pollifax told him. "That lovely gold bench or stool, for instance—" She turned to point, but her glance abruptly slid instead to the scarlet curtain on the right of the throne: it lacked several inches in length so that it did not quite meet the floor and she saw that someone was now standing behind it, listening.

  "—solid gold," Lecler was saying. "It has belonged to the Kings of Ubangiba for centuries."

  No one else had turned to look toward the throne. "Surely 18-carat gold?" she suggested, and inched her way toward Carstairs to nudge him. Without moving her lips she murmured, "Someone's hiding behind the curtain."

  "Eighteen carat?" scoffed Lecler. "Absolutely not, it is 25-carat gold."

  Her nudge and her words produced in Carstairs no glance toward the curtained alcove; he merely looked amused and nodded.

  "So," repeated Mr. Lecler, ending his attempt at hostlike graciousness, "it grows time now, Sammat." To Carstairs he said, "You comprehend, he has a speech to make? He must studiously read it to be sure that he does not stumble over any words."

  Carstairs said, "Yes, it sounds as if they're eager to see and hear you, Sammat, you mustn't keep them waiting."

  "No, no," Lecler said quickly, "you do not understand. He does not speak yet, he has not seen the speech written for him. Joseph, escort these guests to the Green Room . . . Sammat," he said, handing him the sheaf of papers, "read over your speech now to be sure it goes smoothly."

  Carstairs stepped forward, took the papers from Sammat, and tore them into shreds. As they floated to the floor like confetti he said curtly, "I think Sammat knows what he wishes to say without needing someone else's words put into his mouth."

  Lecler stared at him incredulously. "You dare?" he gasped. "You dare7. Sir, you have just destroyed the speech that Sammat, a king's grandson, is to make to his people! Such impertinence, such interference, is intolerable. One call to the guards, Mr. Carstairs, and you will find our prisons very unpleasant!"

  "I'm sure they are," agreed Carstairs, "but you might first like to know what brings me here to this country."

  "Not a tourist?" scoffed Lecler angrily.

  "Not a tourist, no," said Carstairs, and added casually, "I have merely been following to Ubangiba $50 million in ransom money picked up two mornings ago in Westchester County in the United States."

  A stunned silence followed until Carstairs broke it to add pleasantly, "Of course Ubangiba will be very grateful for the $50 million in unmarked bills that you've brought into the country, and which you no doubt believe you have in that black attaché case on the floor beside you." As Lecler looked down at his case in horror Carstairs said in a kind voice, "I don't think you'll find the $50 million there, Lecler. You will note that I, too, have a black attaché case, and my friend Devereaux, a most gifted practitioner of sleight of hand, produced miracles as you both passed through Customs. I will not tell you anything more about him but I will add that Mr. Stover is not an anthropologist but a member of the United States FBI."

  Wonderful, thought Mrs. Pollifax.

  Lecler gaped at Carstairs and then with trembling hands tried to open the catch on his attaché case, forgetting that it was locked.

  Mrs. Pollifax, daring to speak, asked, "Does this have something to do with—"

  Carstairs interrupted her to say, "Sammat, go to the balcony now, the crowds sound restive, they want you."

  "But sir—"

  "It's best you go, Sammat."

  "But sir—"

  "Now," Carstairs told him flatly.

  Sammat walked to the french doors, opened them, turned once to look back at them all, then walked out onto the balcony to a roar of sound that was deafening. Kadi walked to the doors and closed them.

  "Open your attaché case," Carstairs told Lecler.

  "No," snapped Lecler, "and I don't know what you're talking about." He drew himself erect. "In the meantime," he said harshly, accusingly, "you provoke an international incident with such insolence, you have come here—an American—to illegally and illicitly disrupt the affairs of the sovereign government of Ubangiba. The police must be called. Joseph—at once!"

  "On the contrary," Carstairs told him, "I didn't come for that purpose at all. I followed a ransom, it's true, but that's not what personally brought me here. What I came for—" He turned toward the curtained alcove and said, "You can come out now, Bidwell." And to Lecler he said, "Bidwell is what I came for."

  "Bidwell?" faltered Mrs. Pollifax. "Henry Bidwell?"

  From the other side of the room Kadi gasped, "The man held hostage in New York? The kidnapped man?"

  "Neither hostage nor kidnapped," said Carstairs. "Well, Bidwell?"

  The curtain trembled a little but did not open. It was Mrs. Pollifax who walked the few paces across the room to pull the curtain aside and stand there staring at the same thin, autocratic face she had seen pictured in newspapers and on television
, but now drained of color, bloodless and stricken. Turning to Carstairs she said, bewildered, "But how—and here!"

  "Don't move, any of you," Lecler said in a deadly calm voice. "Don't move, I have a gun. Mr. Carstairs, you will kindly slide your attaché case across the floor to me, now, at once!"

  Carstairs hesitated and then, with one foot, pushed his attaché case several feet across the polished floor as Lecler drew from his cream-colored silk suit a gun that Mrs. Pollifax automatically identified as a 9mm Smith and Wesson.

  "None of you," said Lecler, "will leave this room alive."

  Oh dear God, thought Mrs. Pollifax, I was counted on to help and now I'm too far away, and that means Stover—Stover, if you know judo, use it now.

  But it was Joseph in his scarlet uniform who moved up behind Lecler as soundlessly as a cat and sent the man stumbling forward, grabbed him before he fell, turned him around and hit him hard and furiously across his jaw, knocking him to the floor with his fists. "Udiyo," he cried passionately. "Udiyo, udiyo ... Be ku-bada udiyo."

  From the other side of the room Kadi called, "He is calling him evil—evil—born to be evil."

  Joseph stood defiantly, breathing hard. Carstairs said gravely, "And we thank you, Joseph, for our lives." Leaning over he picked up Lecler's gun and training it on the man framed by the scarlet curtains he said, "Well, Bidwell? What do you have to say for yourself, and to the millions of people—not to mention your wife and children—who have pictured you kidnapped, bound and gagged and abused in some basement cellar for nine days, doubtless even praying for you? You have demeaned and insulted every hostage that's ever been taken captive and who has lived with real terror."

  Bidwell stammered, "I ... I ..." and he fainted, sinking to the floor with one of his outflung arms resting on Mrs. Pollifax's shoe. With distaste she withdrew her foot and walked around him. "Not a hostage.7" she said.

  "As pretty a disappearing act as you'll see in your lifetime," said Carstairs.

  Kadi had opened the door to the balcony and Mrs. Pollifax could hear Sammat's voice clearly and confidently speaking to the people in their language. "But how did you know?" Mrs. Pollifax asked Carstairs.