"That's asinine," I commented. "It's their chief defense against the Chinese Communists."
"Whether they're out to wreck it or they're suffering from a gargantuan attack of inefficiency, the same end is being reached," Hawk snapped. "You read the confidential reports attached to the stuff I gave you. The whole working alliance is about to fall apart. But still the Aussies haven't stopped this kind of thing and they haven't come up with any satisfactory answers to why the mistakes happened. All the effort, time, work and millions the United States spent on establishing this secure working defense is about to blow up in our faces. I want you to get over there fast and find out what's going on."
"Anything else?" I had questioned. Years of working with Hawk had made me know certain things. He didn't send me, or any AXE top agent, on vaguely defined missions. There was always something concrete, no matter how seemingly insignificant, that took it out of the «suppose» category. I sat back while he gazed up at the ceiling and unwrapped a fresh cigar, which he would chew rather than smoke.
"Two months ago, the body of a Chinese was washed ashore at a point near Hinchinbrook Island along the Great Barrier Reef. He was wearing scuba gear, and an autopsy showed he'd died of an embolism."
"Which indicates he was operating from a submarine and they hadn't properly decompressed him from his last time out," I commented, musing aloud.
"He had fifty thousand dollars in Australian pounds in a money belt under his scuba suit," he said. He just let it lie there and watched me pick it up and chew on it.
"Opens up a whole Pandora's box of possibilities, doesn't it?" I said finally. "Any follow-up to it?"
"Not a damned thing, unless you want to use your imagination and go anywhere with it," he had answered. Like the three sudden tragic accidents, he meant, without saying so. "Major Rothwell of Australian Intelligence has been told you're on your way. He's headquartered at Ayr on the coast. He's happy to have you come, so you'll have no problem there. I'm sure he'll fill you in on any details you want. The whole thing' so barbaric, the aumeiode-named our mutually mysterious enemy. The Executioners'."
I stood up. "What if it's nothing but damned inefficiency?" I asked.
Hawk had gazed up at me, his eyes expressionless, his face stone. "I'll be surprised," he said. "And I haven't been surprised in a long time."
I turned off the mental reruns as the big airliner touched down at Brisbane, but I was still thinking about the import of the three tragic events. Three accidents — each of them involving Australia's allies in death and bitter resentment. I couldn't completely rule out the inefficiency possibility, but it seemed, as Hawk had pointed out, a sudden attack of the disease. If it wasn't that, there was the long arm of coincidence to be considered.
Now there was a word I'd never thought much of. Experience had taught me that there were very few coincidences in life — real, honest ones — and in the espionage game there were just about none. But if it wasn't inefficiency and if it wasn't coincidence, then it also wasn't amateur night. Only the professionals, the good ones, the top layer of espionage people, can set up and handle an operation of real subtlety and complexity. Not that the pros don't make mistakes. It's just that even their mistakes have a certain touch to them.
But the stewardess was bidding everyone goodbye, and I stopped musing and got off the giant airliner to change to a smaller, twin-engined turbo-prop job for the last leg of the trip to Ayr. That part of the flight was short. At the Ayr airport I took my two bags — one more than I usually carry — and got a key to the public lockers. I took the larger bag, the one carrying the equipment Stewart at Special Effects had given me, and put it into the locker.
"I don't have any idea what problems you might meet," he'd told me when he gave me the stuff. "But Australia is an island and you might find yourself at sea, literally. What I have here requires a helper to operate, but you might find it coming in handy. It's a new development, of course."
After he briefed me on the stuff, I'd put it in a special bag and gone off with it, and now, here in Ayr, I'd decided not to carry it along with mo. I hadn't any idea what I might run into, and the stuff would be safer here.
A famous New York jeweler once shipped one of the world's most priceless diamonds to himself in an ordinary package through the U.S. mails. Instead of a lot of elaborate precautions which in themselves would have attracted attention, it was a master example of using the very ordinary to cloak the very unordinary. It stuck with me. I closed the public locker and slipped the key into my pocket. Later, I'd transfer it into the small hollow inside the heel of my shoe.
I went outside, hailed a cab and gave him the address of Australian Intelligence. I spent the ride watching the Australian girls on the streets as we went by them. They had a quality of their own, I quickly decided, a forthright directness. They walked with their heads up and they smiled quickly. They were dressed in mini skirts and had strong, well-formed legs, beautiful bustlines and good, clear skins. But mostly it was that heads-up quality that made them stand out.
The cab slowed and then stopped outside a small, gray building and I went inside. Security guards halted me at once and I presented my credentials. The picture changed immediately. Major Alan Rothwell, K.C.B., shook hands vigorously. A thin man in civilian clothes, he had quick, bright eyes and a small moustache. I had some difficulty keeping my eyes on the Major. There were two desks in his office, and behind the second one was as eye-filling a dish as I'd ever seen anywhere, any time. I was grateful for the Major's quick introduction.
"This is Mona Star," he said. "Mona is my right hand. She knows as much, perhaps more about this office than I do. She's one of our civilian security employees. In fact, you'll be working more with Mona, actually, than with me."
I tried not to smile too happily at that prospect But Mona Star had been quick to read the pleasure in my eyes, and her own glance was unabashedly interested. She was tall, red haired and green eyed, and as she stood up to shake hands, I saw the gorgeous line of her legs, long and firm and curving gently to wide, rounded hips. Her breasts must have put a terrible strain on the Australian brassiere industry.
"I've been terribly excited since I heard you were coming over." She smiled at me.
"I confess we all have been, Carter," Major Rothwell added. "Hawk and I've been friends for a good long while, you know, and when we talked about the problems here, and I asked if he could help us, he generously agreed. Sending an agent of your reputation was more than I expected of him. Fine chap, Hawk."
I smiled. The Aussies were an open, direct lot. I didn't tell him that Hawk's interest was motivated by something more than purity of heart and good fellowship.
"Of course, I don't really think the problem is anything more than our own internal inefficiency," the Major went on. "But if it is, we're just not up to coping with it. The English have been in the intrigue game for generations, and of course the Europeans live with the stuff all the time. And you fellows seem to have developed a knack for it. But we just haven't got the know-how yet. Not against anything like The Executioner."
I nodded, accepting his honest admission, and caught Mona Star's speculative appraisal of me. Her eyes held open interest and something else, almost anticipation. I smiled inwardly. I never let play interfere with work, but a little play in between work was good for the soul. I returned my attention to Major Rothwell.
"Three key men were involved in the tragedies," I said. "I presume you have their military files and have studied them thoroughly."
"I sent three of my investigators directly to their base commanders to examine the men's records," he said. "I have the reports my men turned in right here."