"Talk!" snapped the general.
Duroche raised his head. His eyes met Michelle's. She stared coldly back at him. A look of anguish came over his face, then faded. He squared his shoulders slightly.
"Thanks to the woman I thought was my daughter," he said, his voice trembling but clear with his recital, "but who is instead a traitor to both her father and her country, I have been blackmailed into working for these scum. I have produced for them, I admit with shame, a unique underwater propulsion device. It is no more than five feet long, and one foot in diameter, containing over thirty pounds of TNT. It need not be fired from tubes, but can be dropped over the side of any craft, and becomes self-propelled when it reaches a depth of one hundred feet. At that time, a self-contained computer, programmed for the target, sends it on a random course to target. Its course is programmed not only to be random, but to avoid obstacles and pursuing devices.
Duroche looked at me.
"Once this device is launched," he said, "it is impossible to stop it. Because its course is random, it cannot be predicted. Because it can avoid obstacles and pursuers, it cannot be successfully attacked. The computer sends it to its target every time."
"It has been tested," said the general. "Tested many times."
Duroche nodded in unhappy agreement.
"So you see, Carter," said the general, waving his cognac snifter expansively, "there is nothing you can do to stop us. In less than two hours, a few dozen boats of all sizes and types will leave Martinique. They will scatter throughout the Caribbean and the South Atlantic. In some cases they will transfer our weapons to other boats. Then they will become lost in the vast small-boat population of the seas. You could no more find them in a year, let alone a week or so — let alone before we strike Curaçao in eight hours — than you could find a few dozen particular grains of sand on a large beach."
He paused for effect.
"Skip the dramatics, General," I said. "Make your point."
He flushed slightly, then recovered.
"My point," he said, "is that the Curaçao refinery is for all practical purposes, rubble. That is to show you what we can do. And what we will do, unless the United States, shall we say, cooperates."
"The point, General," I said. "Come to the point. What's the blackmail?"
He flushed again.
"Blackmail is not a word to use about soldiers fighting for their cause. Nevertheless. The terms are these: The United States will, in two days, acknowledge Martinique as no longer a part of France, but an independent republic."
"With you and your flunkies in charge, no doubt."
"Again, I object to your terminology. But no matter. Yes, the OAS will govern Martinique. It will be protected both by the United States, and by its position as an independent country in the United Nations."
"And, of course, you'll be satisfied with Martinique," I said sarcastically.
The general smiled.
"As an independent country, Martinique will send a diplomatic representative to France. For the first time, our native land will be forced to deal with the OAS as equals. And soon — soon after that, a situation analogous to that of Generalissimo Franco's revolt against the Spanish Republic will arise."
"The French military will come over to the side of the OAS, headquartered in Martinique, and take over France," I said.
"Exactly. And after that — well, it is not only Frenchmen who sympathize with our cause and our philosophy. Certain others…"
"A few Nazis left over from the Second World War, no doubt?"
Again, the general smiled.
"Much maligned individuals, who share our desire for a disciplined world, a world without troublemakers, a world in which the naturally superior take their natural place as leaders."
"Today, Martinique, tomorrow, the world," said Li Chin, with disgust.
"Yes!" cried Michelle fiercely. "A world ruled by the aristocrats of nature, the truly intelligent, who will tell the stupid masses what is good for them, and eliminate those who would make trouble!"
"Sieg Heil," I said softly.
The general ignored me. Or maybe he just liked the sound of the words.
"So, Mr. Carter, we come to your personal part in our plan. The part for which we have left you alive so far."
"That's funny," said Li Chin. "I kept getting the feeling you'd kept him alive so far because you weren't able to kill him."
The general flushed again. He had the kind of fair complexion that flushes very obviously and very rapidly. It must have embarrassed him, and I enjoyed that.
"Several times you were getting too close too fast. That was Michelle's failure. She was supposed to see that didn't happen until the appropriate moment."
It was Michelle's turn to show embarrassment, but she did it with a toss of her head.
"I told you. Those idiot lepers failed in their assignment. By the time I learned what had happened he was working with the Chinese girl, and I never found a chance to get them together until the Carnival. When that failed…"
The general waved his hand.
"It no longer matters. What matters is that we succeeded in tricking you into attacking the volcano in hopes of rescuing Michelle, and have now captured you and rendered you harmless. We will hold you here until the Curaçao refinery has been destroyed, and our weapons are well out to sea and undiscoverable. Then you will act as liaison to inform your government of our demands, and our firm timetable for their acceptance. Which was to be your role all along, with Michelle making sure you arrived when we wished, rather than when you did."
I felt anger coming to a boil within me. These Nazi hoodlums expected me to act as their messenger boy? It was with difficulty that I kept my voice low.
"There's only one trouble, General," I said. "I have arrived. And on my own terms."
He waved his hands.
"Admittedly, your arrival was more violent than I could have wished. But, as I said, it no longer matters."
"I think it does," I said. Then, turning: "Li Chin? How's the telephone working?"
Li Chin grinned.
"Bells are ringing. Have been for the last three minutes."
"Telephone?" said the general.
Michelle gasped.
"Her earring!" she said. "It's a trans-ceiver! And she only has one!"
The general was on his feet and across the room with remarkable speed for a man of his age. He lashed out his hand and whipped the earring from Li Chin's ear lobe. I winced. Her ears were pierced, and he had literally torn the earring from her flesh. A wide stain of blood immediately appeared on her lobe.
"Ouch," she said calmly.
"Where is the other earring?" demanded the general. The tone of affable hospitality had completely vanished from his voice.
"I loaned it to a friend of mine," said Li Chin. "A guy named Sweets. We like to keep in touch."
This time, Michelle's gasp was even sharper.
"The black man!" she said. "Hunter! He must have entered the volcano separately!"
The general shot a glance at her, then looked back down at the earring trans-ceiver.
"No matter," he said. "If he is within the crater, our television monitors will find him. And I will now destroy this fascinating little instrument, to cut off your contact with him."
"I wouldn't do that, General," I said. "Cut off our contact with him and this entire island may be blown halfway to France."
The general stared at me, then, with an obvious effort, relaxed his features into an unbelieving smile.
"I believe you are bluffing, Mr. Carter," he said.
I glanced at my watch.
"If Sweets Hunter doesn't get a signal on his trans-ceiver in exactly two minutes and thirty-one seconds, we'll all have a chance to find out," I said calmly.
"Much can happen in that time," said the general. He strode to his desk, picked up the telephone, and barked out a series of orders. General Alert. Find Hunter. Bring him here immediately.