the enceinte in the direction of the towering keep.
Lieutenant Lugos was walking ahead and Frank said, from the side of his mouth, 'You act as though you've been here before.'
The other shook his head. 'No, but I had some of my agents check it out once. They got good video sequences.'
'Even inside the keep?'
'On the lower floors. Not up in the living quarters of the Graf. One tried and didn't make it.'
The younger man stared, 'What happened to him?'
'Peter Windsor happened to him. He was caught, tortured, put under scopolamine and, of course, spilled his guts.'
'How do you know?'
'Windsor dropped a hint to me the next time I saw him. Happily, the others had gotten away before the captured one could inform on them. Our chum-pal, Peter, evidently was more amused by my curiosity than anything else. I suppose the Wolfschloss has been infiltrated before.'
They had no more difficulty in entering the donjon than they'd had at the cable car terminal. Five minutes after Lieutenant Lugos surrendered them to the guard at the keep's massive door, they had entered the office of Peter Windsor.
The Graf's right-hand man was, characteristically, lounging in well-worn sports clothes behind his desk, his feet up on its surface. He grinned affably and said as he stood, 'I say, Pinell, you're full of surprises.' He looked at Hamp and frowned slightly. 'Haven't I seen you before, somewhere?'
'People keep asking me that,' Hamp said. 'I must look like some celebrity.'
Peter Windsor shrugged. 'No point in mucking around, Hampton. What was your idea in coming here? Doesn't make much sense, really.'
'I thought I'd explain that directly to the Graf,' Hamp told him. His eyes went around the room, in curiosity, not missing the submachine gun on the wall.
'I dare say that's a good idea,' Windsor said, lazily coming to his feet. 'Come along, you chaps, Lothar is expecting us.'
He led the way down the winding corridor to the Grafs office.
When they entered the spacious office of Lothar von Brandenburg, it was to find the Graf and Margit Krebs seated in the same chairs as during Frank's original interview. To top it, after offhanded introductions, during which no one made any pretense of desire to shake hands, Peter Windsor slumped into the chair he had utilized on the first occasion Frank had met the inner circle. Frank and Hamp sat too, on the same couch but at opposite ends.
For a few moments all was silent as Hamp took in the three of them and they returned the compliment.
The Graf said finally, 'To be candid, this confrontation surprises me. I haven't the vaguest idea what you had in mind, Franklin.' He turned smoky, expressionless eyes to the black. 'Nor you, sir. Will one of you explain?' He looked back at Frank and added, 'Not, of course, that I distrust your judgment and discretion, my boy.'
'Of course not,' Peter said dryly.
Hamp said, 'I came to make a deal.'
The gray-flecked, uncanny irises turned back to him. 'Indeed? Please develop it. I am always interested in deals.'
'Wizard,' Hamp said. His dark eyes took in the short elderly mercenary and they were almost as unreadable as the old man's. 'Brandenburg,' he went on finally, 'you've got a tiger by the tail. You've built up an empire and now you can't abdicate. You're just on the verge of being dead broke and you can't get out from under. The upkeep on this pile of rock alone must be astronomical and that's not counting your other establishments scattered around the world, and it doesn't count the compensations and pensions you're under obligation to keep up. One of these days, you're going to miss a payroll. When you do—well, the people on your payroll are the most dangerous killers in the world.'
'What rot,' Peter drawled.
'Silence, Peter,' the Graf told him without looking in his direction. He said to Hamp, 'Since nothing that is said in this room this morning will ever go beyond its walls, we might as well be completely free. What has given you cause to believe me less than—ah, solvent? My interests are widespread.'
'So are mine,' Hamp said flatly. 'I have sources and I have my common sense besides. Mercenary use has been declining for decades. So have clandestine sales of arms. The citizens of smaller nations are in revolt against their governments so far as military purchases are concerned. They've had a bellyful of it for a century or so. They're also getting a bellyful of assassinations and terrorism. All sorts of inquiries are going out about you and your activities. And this Roy Cos affair is almost sure to wind up with Deathwish Policies declared illegal on a worldwide basis, especially if and when the United States becomes the United States of the World. To sum it up, your business is melting away, Brandenburg.'
'I see,' the Graf nodded agreeably. 'I am amazed at your interest in my affairs. But let us delve into it a bit further. Would it surprise you to learn that my plans include joining the upper echelons of the World Club and participating, along with my organization, in the World State?' The Grafs emotionless voice held a touch of smugness.
Hamp shook his head definitely. 'No. Not after last night. And not on top of Harold Dunninger.'
The old man's voice was now ice. 'What about Harold Dunninger?'
'It's come out that you were behind his kidnapping and death. That you wished this candidate eliminated so that you would be able to assume Central Committee membership. But last night you went too far.'
The Graf looked over at Margit Krebs, scowling. 'What happened last night?'
Peter said quickly, 'I was going to bring that up at our morning meeting, Lothar.' He cleared his throat. 'I fancied that you'd be surprised. Jeremiah Auburn has been reported killed in a vehicle crackup on the French Riviera. An accident, I imagine.'
'No accident,' Hamp said. 'And the Central Committee isn't going to stand for one of its members being coldly murdered for opposing you. Your name will be mud in the World Club, Brandenburg.'
The old man hadn't taken his eyes from his top aide. 'Why wasn't I informed about this?' he demanded.
'I told you, Chief. I was going to bring it up this morning, don't you know? A bit of bad luck, wasn't it?' Windsor's eyes went from his employer to Hamp and then quickly back again. 'You're not taking this bloody fool's word against mine, are you? He's obviously up to something, but the silly ass has put himself into our hands. We'll show him what the drill is around here. A bit of scopolamine and we'll find out what he's all about.'
'You must think me a dolt, Peter,' the Graf said coldly.
All his languid pretenses were gone. Peter Windsor shot to his feet, his face in a fury. He turned red and stalked from the room.
The Graf said to Margit, who had been sitting quietly through all of this, 'Our Peter seems a bit impetuous these days, Fraulein.'
'I'd noticed it,' she said without inflection.
The Graf turned back to Hamp. 'You mentioned a deal. I
confess I haven't the vaguest idea of what you might have in mind.'
Hamp said, 'Frank, here, was left a sizeable estate by his father. It's in the hands of a Berne bank, almost forty-five million pseudo-dollars in the form of immediately convertible securities. First, you will cooperate in securing the inheritance for him.'
The Graf gave one of his humorless chuckles. 'I have never heard of such a thing.' He turned to Margit. 'Have you, Fraulein?'
But Margit failed to take the cue. 'Yes,' she said deliberately. Her eyes seemed to glaze slightly. 'Its provisions are that the fortune be turned over to Franklin Pinell when he reaches the age of thirty. Until that time, he would be able to acquire it only with your permission. Both of you would have to appear in Berne to testify. If he should die before reaching thirty, the fortune goes to various American charities. If you should die before he reaches thirty, then the fortune reverts to him, as soon as he has reached twenty-one—which, of course, he already has done.'
For once, the Graf lost his aplomb. He glared at her, started to speak, and then stopped himself. He turned back to Hamp and said firmly, 'That doesn't sound like a deal to me, Herr Hampton.'
