Part 10

Dragomiloff staggered to his feet, staring sombrely down at the shadowy figure of his old friend lying at the foot of the narrow bunk. He leaned against the closed porthole, fighting to regain his breath, aware of how much the years had taken from his fighting ability. He rubbed his face wearily. Still, he thought, he had not succumbed to Gray’s attack, and Gray was as deadly as any member.

A sudden rap at the door brought immediate awareness to him. He bent swiftly, rolling the dead body out of sight beneath the bunk, and came quietly to stand beside the door.

“Yes?”

“Mr. Constantine? Could I see you a moment, sir?”

“One second.”

Dragomiloff switched on the stateroom light; a swift glance about the room revealed nothing too incriminating. He straightened a chair, threw the blanket back to conceal the torn mattress, and slipped into a dressing-gown. He glanced about once more. Satisfied that all was presentable, he opened the door a crack and yawned widely into the face of the purser.

“Yes? What is it?”

The purser looked embarrassed.

“A Mr. Gray, sir. Did he stop down to see you?”

“Oh, that. Yes, he did. But it was really too bad his bothering me, you know. He was looking for a Mr. Dragomovitch, or something. He apologized and left. Why?”

“The ship is sailing, sir. Do you suppose he might have gone ashore in the last few moments? While I was coming down here?”

Dragomiloff yawned again and stared at the purser coldly.

“I’m sure I have no idea. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I really would like to get some rest.”

“Certainly, sir. I’m sorry. Thank you.”

Dragomiloff locked the door and once again switched off the lights. He sat on the small chair furnished with the stateroom and stared at the locked porthole thoughtfully. Tomorrow would be too late; there would be stewards cleaning the cabins. Even morning would be too late; early strollers about the decks were not uncommon. It would have to be now, with all the attendant dangers. With patience he settled back to await the ship’s departure.

Voices came from the deck above as lines were cast off and the ship prepared to leave the dock. The rumble of the engines increased; a slight motion was imparted to the cabin. Above his head the faint pounding of feet could be heard as seamen ran back and forth, winching in the lines, obeying the exigencies of the steel monster which was to take them across the ocean.

The cries on deck abated. Dragomiloff carefully unbolted the porthole and thrust his head out. The watery gap between the pier and the ship was slowly widening; the lights strung along the warehouses were fading in distance. He listened carefully for footsteps from above; there were none. Returning to his task he rolled the body free from its hiding place and, bending, lifted it with ease to prop it on the bunk. One last searching glance indicated that the coast was clear. He thrust the flaccid arms through the porthole and fed the body into the open air. It fell with a faint splash; Dragomiloff waited quietly for any outbreak of sound from above. There was none. With graven face he latched the porthole, pulled the drapes tightly over them, and re-lit the light.

One final check was necessary before retiring, for Dragomiloff was a thorough man. The knife was stowed in a suitcase, and the bag locked. The slit in the mattress was covered with the sheet, reversed and tucked in tightly. The rug was straightened. Only when the room had regained its former appearance did Dragomiloff relax and slowly begin undressing.

It had been a busy night, but one step further along his inexorable path.

_Chapter XV_

Lucoville rapped sharply upon Starkington’s hotel-room door and when the door swung back, entered and quietly laid a newspaper upon the table. Starkington’s eye immediately caught the black headlines, and he read through the lurid account rapidly.

TWO DIE IN MYSTERIOUS EXPLOSION

Aug. 15: A mysterious explosion in the early hours of today on Worth Street near the Bay region caused the tragic death of two unidentified men. Police could discover no clue as to the cause of the violent detonation, which broke windows in the immediate vicinity, as well as costing the lives of the two men who were believed to be walking in the area at the time of the explosion.

The violence of the detonation made identification of the two victims impossible. The shattered fragments of a small metal box were the only unusual item found in the area, but police claim it could not possibly have played a part in the tragedy because of its size. At present the authorities admit themselves baffled.

“Harkins and Alsworthy!” he exclaimed through clenched teeth. “We must get the others here as quickly as possible!”

“I have telephoned to Haas and Hanover,” Lucoville replied. “They should be here at any moment.”

“And Gray?”

“His hotel room did not answer. I am rather surprised, since it was agreed that a report be made this morning on the ships that were investigated last night.”

“You found nothing at the _Argosy_?”

“Nothing. Nor did Haas at the _Takku Maru_.”

The two men stared at each other in silent common thought.

“Do you suppose ...?” Starkington began, but at that moment there was an imperious rap at the door, and before either occupant could answer, the door swung wide, revealing Hanover and Haas.

Haas rushed in, laying a later edition of the newspaper upon the table.

“Did you see this?” he cried. “Gray is dead!”

“Dead?”

“Found floating alongside Jansen’s Wharf, where the _Eastern Clipper_ was docked! Dragomiloff is on that ship, and it has sailed!”

There was a moment’s shocked silence. Starkington walked over and slowly seated himself. His eyes roved the stern faces of his companions before he spoke.

“Well, gentlemen,” he said softly, “we are being decimated. The total remaining members of the Assassination Bureau are within this room at this moment. Three of our number died within the past twelve hours. Where is the success that crowned our every effort for all these years? Can it all have departed at the same moment?”

“There are limits to one’s infallibility,” Haas objected. “Harkins and Alsworthy died as the result of an accident.”

“Accident? You do not honestly believe that, Haas. You cannot. There is no such thing as an accident. We control our own lives, or we control nothing.”

“Or at least we believe that, or we believe nothing,” Lucoville amended dryly.

“But the wall-clock must have been wrong!” Haas insisted.

“Obviously,” Starkington admitted. “But is it an accident to fail through dependence upon a mechanical contrivance? Inventions, my dear Haas, are the work of doers, and not thinkers.”

“A ridiculous statement,” Haas sneered.

“Not at all. It is the inability to mentally rationalize problems that leads men to seek mechanical solutions. Take that wall-clock, for example. Does the knowledge of the exact hour solve the problems of that hour? What is gained, in beauty or morality, to know that at this moment it is eight minutes past the hour of ten?”

“You oversimplify,” Haas retorted. “Someday the clock may take its revenge.”

Hanover leaned forwards.

“As for your sneering at doers,” he remarked, “do you consider us, then, as only thinkers and not doers?”

Starkington smiled.

“Of late, to be truthful, we have been neither. Now we must be both.”

Lucoville, who had been standing at a window staring into the street, swung about.

“Look here,” he said flatly. “Dragomiloff has sailed. He has left the country. It is doubtful that he will return. Why do we not give up this senseless chase? We can rebuild the Bureau ourselves. Dragomiloff began it with one--himself--and we are four.”

“Give up the chase?” Haas was shocked. “Senseless? How could we rebuild the Bureau if the first thing we give up is not the chase, but our principles?”

Lucoville bowed his head.

“You are right, of course. I was not thinking. Well, then, what is our next step?”

Haas answered him. The thin flame of a man arose and bent over the table, his huge forehead puckered.

“There is a ship sailing at four this afternoon--the _Oriental Star_--from Dearborn Slip. It is the fastest ship on the Pacific run. It should easily dock in Hawaii a day in advance of the _Eastern Clipper_’s arrival. I suggest that we be waiting for Dragomiloff when he arrives in Honolulu. And that we be more careful than our predecessors when we meet him.”

“It is an excellent idea,” Hanover agreed enthusiastically. “He will feel himself safe.”

“The Chief never feels himself safe,” Starkington commented. “It is only that he does not allow his feeling of un-safety to disturb him. Well, gentlemen; does Haas’s suggestion sit well with you?”

There was a moment’s silence. Then Lucoville shook his head.

“I do not believe it necessary that we all travel. Haas has still not recovered fully from his wound. Also, I do not believe it well to put all our eggs in one basket. I suggest that Haas remain. There may well be need for some action from the mainland.”

This suggestion was carefully considered by the other three. Starkington nodded.

“I agree. Haas?”

The small intense man smiled ruefully.

“I should, of course, enjoy being in at the kill. But I must bow to the logic of Lucoville’s argument. I also agree.”

Hanover nodded his acceptance.

“We have sufficient funds?”

Starkington reached over and extracted an envelope from his desk.

“This was delivered by messenger this morning. Hall has signed a paper giving me power of withdrawal of our funds.”

Hanover raised his eyebrows.

“He has traveled with Dragomiloff, then.”

“With the daughter, rather,” Haas corrected with a smile. “Poor Hall! Trapped by love into acquiring a father-in-law he has paid to have killed!”

“Hall’s logic is tainted by emotion,” Starkington commented. “The fate of the emotional is not only predictable, but usually deserved.” He arose. “Well, then, I shall arrange for our passage.” He stared at Lucoville in sudden concern. “Why do you frown?”

“The food aboard ship,” Lucoville sighed unhappily. “Do you suppose they will be able to provide fresh vegetables for the entire trip?”

* * * * *

The edge of the sun was breaking evenly over the eastern horizon. Winter Hall, enjoying the warm breeze of the Pacific morning, was suddenly aware of a presence at his elbow. He turned to find Dragomiloff staring off into the distance.

“Good morning!” Hall smiled. “Did you sleep well?”

Dragomiloff was forced to return the smile.

“As well as could be expected,” was his dry reply.

“When I find it difficult to drop off to sleep,” Hall offered, “I usually walk the deck. I find that exercise aids me in falling asleep.”

“It was certainly not lack of exercise.” Dragomiloff suddenly swung his gaze fully upon the tall, handsome young man at his side. “I had a visitor last night before the ship sailed.”

Memory returned to Hall like a blow.

“Gray! He was to investigate this ship!”

“Yes. Gray dropped in to see me.”

“Is he aboard?” Hall glanced about; his pleasant smile had disappeared.

“No. He did not sail with us. He remained.”

Hall stared at the small sandy-haired man beside him with growing comprehension.

“You killed him!”

“Yes, I killed him. I was forced to.”

Hall turned back to his contemplation of the sunrise. A sternness had settled over his strong face.

“You say you were forced to. Do I recognize in this admission a change in your beliefs?”

“No.” Dragomiloff shook his head. “Although all beliefs must be amenable to change if thinking man is to merit his ability to reason. I say forced to, because Gray was my friend. In a way you might say he was my protégé. It was in following my teachings that he attempted my life. It was in recognition of the purity of his motives that I took his.”

Hall sighed wearily.

“No, you have not changed. Tell me, when will this madness end?”

“Madness?” Dragomiloff shrugged his shoulders. “Define your terms. What is sanity? To allow those to live whose course of action leads to the taking of innocent lives? At times, thousands of innocent lives?”

“You certainly cannot be referring to John Gray!”

“I am not. I am merely justifying the basis of my teachings, which John Gray believed in, and which you choose to call madness.”

Hall stared at the other hopelessly.

“But you have already admitted the fallacy of that philosophy. Man cannot judge; he can only be judged. And not by the individual. Only by the group.”

“True. It was on this basis that you convinced me that the aims of the Assassination Bureau were unworthy. Or possibly a better word would be ‘premature.’ For the Bureau itself, you must remember, is a group, representative of society itself. Picture a Bureau, if you would, encompassing all mankind. Then the arguments you used to convince me would no longer be valid. But no matter. In any event, you did convince me, and I did undertake the task of having myself assassinated. Unfortunately, the very perfection of the organization has worked against me.”

“Perfection!” Hall cried in exasperation. “How can you use that word? They have failed to kill you in at least six or eight attempts!”

“That failure is proof of the perfection,” Dragomiloff stated gravely. “I see you do not understand. Failures are calculable; for the Bureau contains within it certain checks and balances. The failures prove the rightness of these checks and balances.”

Hall stared at the small man at his side in amazement.

“You are unbelievable! Tell me, when will this--very well, I shall not use the word ‘madness’--when will this adventure, then, end?”

To his surprise Dragomiloff smiled in quite a friendly manner.

“I like that word ‘adventure.’ All life is an adventure, but we do not appreciate it until life itself is in jeopardy. When will it end? When we end, I suppose. When our brains cease to function; when we join the worms and the non-thinkers. In my particular case,” he continued, noting Hall’s barely concealed impatience, “at the end of a period of one year from the time of my original instructions to Haas.”

“And that time is well along. In less than three months your contract will have expired. What then?”

To his surprise Dragomiloff’s smile suddenly faded.

“I do not know. I cannot believe that the organization I have built up so painstakingly will allow me to live the full period. That would be a negation of its perfection.”

“But certainly you do not want them to succeed?”

Dragomiloff clasped his hands tightly. His face was frowning and serious.

“I do not know. It is something that has been bothering me more and more as the weeks and months have passed.”

“You are an amazing person! In what way has it been bothering you?”

The small light-haired man faced his larger companion.

“I am not sure that I wish to be saved by the expiration of a time limit. Time should be the master of people, and not the servant. Time, you see, is the one perfect machine, whose gears are set by the stars, whose hands are controlled by the infinite. I have also built a perfect machine, the Bureau. But the Bureau must depend upon itself to demonstrate that perfection. It must not be saved from its shortcomings by the inexorable function of another, and greater, machine.”

“But yet you are attempting to take advantage of the time element for your own salvation,” Hall pointed out, intrigued as always by the workings of the other’s mind.

“I am human,” Dragomiloff replied sadly. “Possibly, in the long run, this may prove to be the fatal weakness of my philosophy.”

Without further comment he turned and walked slowly and heavily to the doors leading to the inner parts of the ship. Hall stared after the man a moment, and then felt his arm touched from the other side. He swung about to face Grunya.

“What have you been saying to my father?” she demanded. “He looked quite shaken.”

“It is what your father has been saying to himself,” Hall replied. He took her arm and they began strolling along the deck. “There is an instinct within each of us to fight to retain life. But there is also within each of us a hidden death-wish, which uses many excuses for justification. We have yet to see which dominates in the life of your strange father.”

“Or in his death,” she murmured, and clung fiercely to the protective arm of her loved one.

_Chapter XVI_

The days aboard the _Eastern Clipper_ passed swiftly and pleasantly. Grunya basked each day in the warm sun, lying in her deck-chair, and acquired a deep tan, as did Hall. Dragomiloff, however, although spending an equal number of hours on the sun-swept deck, seemed immune to the power of the burning rays and remained as pale as ever. Hall and Dragomiloff seemed to have declared a moratorium on philosophical discussion; their talk now ran more to the schools of bonito and albacore that often played in the wake behind the ship, or to the excellent cuisine served aboard, or even at times to their respective deck-tennis scores.

And then one morning, as if it had never been, the trip was over. They awoke this day and came on deck to find themselves in the shadow of towering Diamond Head at the entrance to the island of Oahu, with the port city of Honolulu lying white and glistening in the background. Small canoes with lei-laden natives were already racing towards the ship. Below, in the bowels of the giant liner, stokers were leaning quietly upon their blackened shovels; the great engines had slowed and the ship was barely making way.

“Beautiful!” Grunya murmured, and turned to Hall. “Is it not beautiful, Winter?”

“Almost as beautiful as you are,” Hall replied jocularly, and turned to Dragomiloff. “Ten weeks,” he said lightly. “In just ten weeks, sir, our relationship will change. You shall become my father-in-law.”

“And no longer your friend?” Dragomiloff laughed.

“Always my friend.” Hall frowned slightly. “By the way, what are your plans now? Do you think the other members of the Bureau will follow you here?”

Dragomiloff’s smile did not lessen in the least.

“Follow me? They are here now. Or most of them. They would leave at least one on the mainland, of course.”

“But how could they arrive sooner than we?”

“By faster ship. I would judge they took the _Oriental Star_ the afternoon after we sailed. The discovery of Gray’s body would tell them our ship, and hence our destination. They will have docked last evening. They will be on hand when we disembark, do not fear.”

“But how can you be so sure?” Grunya demanded.

“By placing myself in their position and calculating what I would do under the same circumstances. No, my dear, I am not wrong. They will be on hand to greet me.”

Grunya reached over to grasp his arm, fear growing in her eyes.

“But, Father, what will you do?”

“Do not worry, my dear. I shall not fall victim to them, if that is what you fear. Now pay close heed: several days before sailing I sent a letter on the mail packet making reservations for the two of you at the Queen Anne Inn. There will also be a car and driver available whenever you wish. I myself will not be able to join you, but as soon as I am settled you shall hear from me.”

“For the two of us?” Hall was surprised. “But you did not even know I would be coming!”

Dragomiloff smiled broadly.

“I said I always put myself in the other fellow’s boots. In your place I would never allow a girl as beautiful as my Grunya to escape me. My dear Hall, I knew you would be aboard this ship.”

He turned back to the rail. The native-filled canoes were now bobbing alongside the ship; young boys dressed only in the native _molo_ were diving for coins flung by the passengers into the clear water of the harbor entrance. The white buildings along the quay reflected back the morning sun. The giant liner stopped; a slim cruiser flashed from shore carrying the pilot and the Chinese porters who would take off the luggage.

A loud hoot broke the silence as the ship’s whistle announced their proud arrival. The pilot boat slipped alongside and the officials, neat in their peaked caps and white shorts, clambered aboard. They were followed by a string of blue-clad, pig-tailed porters who scampered up the Jacob’s ladder, their sloping straw hats bobbing in unison, and disappeared into the inner passageway.

Dragomiloff turned to the other two.

“If you will pardon me, I must finish my packing,” he said lightly, and with a wave disappeared into the interior of the ship.

The pilot appeared on the bridge and the _Eastern Clipper_’s engines began to rumble, changing to a higher pitch as the ship proceeded landwards.

“We had best get below and see to our luggage,” Hall remarked.

“Oh, Winter, must we so soon? This is so lovely! See how the mountains seem to sweep up from the city. The clouds are like puff-balls hanging over the peaks!” She paused and the animation died upon her face. “Winter; what will Father do?”

“I should not worry about your father, dear. They may not be here. And even if they are, it is doubtful that they would attempt anything in this crowd. Come.”

They went below as the steamer edged closer to the pier. Lines were cast ashore and willing hands linked them to stanchions set in the dock. The ship’s winches began turning, winding in the cable, pulling the liner into position along the dock. A band broke into music, playing the famous “Aloha.” Screams of recognition broke out as passengers and friends found each other in the crowd; handkerchiefs were waved frantically. The gangplank edged downwards; the band played louder.

Hall, returning to deck after assigning his luggage to a porter, came to stand at the rail staring down at the animated faces strung out behind the railing below. Suddenly he came erect with a start; staring him in the eye was Starkington!

The head of the Chicago branch of the Bureau smiled delightedly and waved his hand. Hall’s glance slid along the upturned faces and stopped at another. Hanover was also there, closer to the exit. The rest, Hall was sure, were placed at equally strategic positions.

The gangplank fell into place and the barriers were dropped. Friends and passengers swarmed up and down the gangplank, pushing past heavily laden porters struggling down, swaying perilously beneath their loads. Starkington was mounting the gangplank, shoving his way through the throng. Hall came forward to meet him.

Starkington was smiling happily.

“Hello, Hall! It’s nice to see you. How have you been?”

“Starkington! You must not do this thing!”

Starkington raised his eyebrows.

“Must not do what thing? Must not keep our sacred word? Must not remain true to a promise? A commitment?” His smile remained, but the eyes behind the smile were deadly serious. They swung over Hall’s shoulder, searching the face of each passenger surging towards the gangplank. “He has no escape this time, Hall. Lucoville came aboard with the pilot boat; he is below at this moment. Hanover is guarding the dock. The Chief made a grave mistake to corner himself in this manner.”

Hall gritted his teeth.

“I shall not permit it. I shall speak to the authorities.”