"About here," Tieggs said. His gaze kept alternating between the jungle below and the instruments on his panel. But there was nothing. When they came to the beach, Tieggs swung the helicopter around and made another pass, but this time was the same as last; all the chopper's instruments remained normal.
"Maybe I was dreaming or something," Tieggs said.
"I don't think so, Bob," Carter said.
"What now? I can't find the spot."
"Let's get back."
"Hiva Faui? The base?"
Carter nodded. "I want to get into town."
"I thought you wanted a tour of the islands. All the islands."
"I've seen enough here."
"Yes, sir," Tieggs said as they burst across the beach, and he climbed to cruising altitude for the run back to the main island. "I can set you down in town if you'd like."
"I want to go in by jeep. I might want to stay the night."
"I'm a good jeep driver."
Carter laughed. "All right, you win, Bob. I'll let you drive me into town tonight."
Neither Owen nor Fenster were around when Carter and Tieggs returned to the station. But they had no trouble signing for a jeep from the motor pool section. Within ten minutes of the time they had set down, they had cleaned up and were headed into town.
It was a lovely tropical evening. There was a light ocean breeze, the humidity had tapered off, and the temperature had moderated.
They had each packed a bag with shaving gear and clean shorts and socks, but all the way in Tieggs kept telling Carter that there was nothing for him to see in the town.
"Nothing?" Carter asked, his right eyebrow raising.
"There's the booze shop, a couple of taverns, the Chinese settlement up in the hills, and of course the hotel and Madame Leone's."
"Madame Leone's?" Carter asked, laughing. "Is it what I think it might be?"
"Right on," Tieggs said with a grin.
"Any good?"
Tieggs laughed. "All depends upon your point of view. Madame Leone has eight girls — four of them white, four of them Chinese. If you're Chinese you love the white girls. If you're like us, then you'd probably like the Orientals. All pretty — more or less — and all clean — more than less."
"And that's it?"
"Except for the governor's mansion, which is strictly verboten for any of us — except for Mr. Owen from the station."
"Doesn't like Americans, I hear."
"Not at all. If it was in his power, he'd blow up the station and set us all adrift in a leaky boat."
"The obvious question…"
"No, sir. He and his people are definitely not behind our troubles at the station. He's been investigated up one side and down the other, not only by our own people — the naval intelligence boys — but by his own people."
"How do you know all this, Bob?"
Tieggs shrugged. "Hell, it's common knowledge. Everyone knows it."
"I see," Carter said.
"Then there's his wife," Tieggs said quietly, and Carter was certain a new note had crept into the young pilot's tone.
"The governor is married?"
"Yes, sir. He's a big, fat, ugly slob. But his wife… Gabrielle… now she's a beauty." Tieggs fell silent, apparently contemplating the French governor's wife's beauty.
They came down out of the hills along the coastal road from the tracking station, and Carter's first ground-level view of Hiva Faui, the capital city, was of a wide, dusty road that led past the municipal docks. There, opposite a half-dozen corrugated metal buildings that Carter supposed were used as warehouses, a miserable collection of rusty, down-at-the-heels fishing boats were tied.
Why a man would settle for a place like this was beyond Carter. But whatever Governor Rondine's crime against French society had been to stick him out here, it must have been very serious.
Past the warehouses and public commercial docks were the pleasure boat docks, and beyond them was a lovely white sand beach that led up to a wide square complete with a statue of a World War II soldier and a small fountain.
A line of well-kept buildings, one of them three stories tall, faced the square across a wide, cobbled street. Behind the buildings were mean-looking shanties and huts that ran all the way up to just below the crest of a flat-topped hill. At the top was a lovely old South Seas plantation house, its wide facade facing the sea. It reminded Carter of the big houses in Jamaica. It was ablaze with lights, and even from here Carter was certain he could see people on the wide porch.
Tieggs had stopped the jeep just down from the square, and he too was staring up at the governor's mansion.
"Something is going on up there," Carter said.
"He has parties all the time."
"With whom?" Carter asked, looking at the pilot. "I thought he hated Americans, and the only others here are the Chinese."
There are a few Frenchmen and other foreigners, as well as a few very rich Chinese. Owen and sometimes Fenster are invited over, and of course there are the other islands in the Carolines, easily accessible by air." Tieggs looked back up. "The governor throws a mean party, from what I'm told. They come whenever he sends an invitation just to look at his wife. She's the most beautiful woman in all the islands."
"I think we should pay the governor and his lovely wife a visit," Carter said.
"Sir?"
"Let's get to the hotel. I have to send a message. You and I are going to a party tonight."
They were given a front room on the top floor with two large double beds, a huge ceiling fan, and a wonderful view of the park, the beach, and the pleasure boat docks. A cool breeze came in off the ocean, and Carter stripped down to his shorts and went out onto the balcony.
Tieggs's nostrils flared slightly at the sight of Wilhelmina and Hugo strapped to Carter's body, but he said nothing.
Carter picked up the phone, but before he rang for room service he turned back to Tieggs. "Bob, get back out to the base to my room and grab my tuxedo and black shoes. Get yourself a dark suit or tux and get back here."
"I don't understand."
"We're going to the governor's party."
"But… but we haven't been invited."
Carter laughed as he dialed. "We're going to crash it. I wouldn't want to miss the governor's wife for anything in the world."
"Gabrielle," Tieggs said softly.
"Yes, Gabrielle. Now get going." The hotel room service clerk answered.
"This is Carter in three-oh-one. Bring me a bottle of your best dark rum, a pitcher of papaya juice, and some ice," Carter ordered in French.
"Merci, monsieur," the clerk said, and when Carter hung up and looked around, Tieggs was gone.
He got up and opened the door to their room so that he could look out into the corridor. It was dimly lit and empty. There was absolutely no noise in the hotel. The building could have been deserted.
He softly closed the door, lit a cigarette, then unholstered his Luger. He took his silencer from his trouser pocket, screwed it onto the end of the barrel, then pulled out several bills and laid them on the bureau. He went back out onto the balcony and sat down, his feet up on the low table.
Room service in the person of a very young Chinese boy showed up ten minutes later with his rum, juice, and ice. Carter tipped the boy, then mixed himself a large drink.
Back out on the balcony, the room lights out, he sat back, Wilhelmina on the chair beside him, and slowly sipped his drink as he watched the occasional car or passerby below on the street and in the square.
The town was very quiet at this time of night. But Carter suspected that was not normally the case. He supposed that what action there might normally be here in town tonight was centered up at the governor's mansion.