Spy Killer Read Online Free PDF Page B

his head. “I do not know.” He went out.
    Kurt stretched himself on the bed and thought for a long time. He wondered how he was going to find this Japanese spy in the first place. Perhaps the spy would come to see him. That was a plan. If Kurt let it be known that he had some vital information about South China, the spy might present himself. Distasteful as the job was, it had to be done.
    He wondered for a long time why Varinka was here, and how he could find her again. But then Kalgan was not so big and Varinka’s exotic beauty was easily spotted in an Oriental crowd. Odd that he had crossed her track again.
    His ponderings were interrupted by a knock on the door. Without knowing quite why he did so, Kurt glanced out of the window and saw that the guard was gone.
    He opened the door and fell back. A Japanese officer and a squad of infantrymen blocked the passage. Their dark faces were set in a military glower and their caps sat precisely upon the tops of their heads. Their blued bayonets shimmered dully.
    The officer said, “You are under arrest. Quietly come with us.”
    No man is fool enough to launch himself against eight bayonets. Kurt picked up his hat, set it on the back of his head and fell in between the files.
    Yang burst out of his room and stood gaping at the squad. Then, startling in his iron face, two great tears welled up out of his eyes and ran down his cheeks. Yang was an excellent actor.
    Yang fell upon Kurt and wept loudly. “Do not take him, taicho. He is my friend!” wailed Yang, shaking like a mountain in an earthquake. But under cover of the sobs he whispered in a voice like a saw, “Keep your mouth shut, fool. Killing will be too good for you.”
    The captain pried Yang away and pushed him back against the wall. Yang submitted tearfully, and Kurt was led away.
    The squad marched him through the crowded street. People paused to stare and point. Little children, faces round and mouths filled with jeers, ran on either side of the files.
    “It is some great traitor,” ran the whisper. “They are going to execute him!”
    Kurt watched the cloth shoes going up and down on either side of him. He was unable to account for this sudden turn of events and he looked bleakly ahead to even a worse fate than that promised by Yang.
    They went into a big stone house which served as Japanese headquarters and Kurt was left standing before a rough desk. The man who sat there was small and wiry. His eyes were hidden behind plate-glass spectacles which made him look like a submarine monster. His hair stood straight up, like a pig-bristle brush.
    Kurt saw another beside the desk, a small man in a blue gown. The man he had taken for a bellhop at the hotel.
    “Is this the man?” said the officer at the desk.
    “Yes, sir. He asked me about Takeki, sir.”
    The officer nodded and peered nearsightedly at Kurt. “Why did you ask that question? What is your name?”
    “My name is Smith,” said Kurt. “I was merely curious, that is all.”
    “Please do not lie to me,” said the officer, rubbing his hands thoughtfully together. “Your name is Kurt Reid. Now go on.”
    Kurt blinked. It seemed that he was fated to be known mysteriously by everyone. How had this information come to this Japanese headquarters?
    “Why, yes, so it is,” said Kurt. “But I was still curious about Takeki . I have some information for him.”
    “For him? Ah, well, you can give it to me.”
    “Only to Takeki .”
    “You’re obstinate,” said the Japanese. “Ah, well, taicho, take this man back to the cells.” And to Kurt, “If Takeki comes, perhaps you will be able to give your information first hand. If not . . .” The officer shrugged and went back to work.
    Kurt fell into the files again and was presently thrust into a barred enclosure which resembled a jail less than a wild animal cage. He was the only prisoner there.
    The door clanged and Kurt was again left to his thoughts. At first he was very angry. He stomped up and