_Simmering Doom_
At almost the exact moment the Lockheed Hudson bomber cleared the
runway at Croydon Airport, and went nosing up into the night-shrouded
sky, a man entered the lobby door of a certain hotel in the West End
section of London, and took the elevator to the fourteenth floor. There
he got off, turned to the right, and walked along the corridor until
he reached the sixth door on the left. He faced it, and hesitated a
moment while he shot a sharp piercing glance back along the corridor.
Satisfied that he was alone, he reached out a bony forefinger and
stabbed the hotel suite button four times in rapid succession.
Thirty seconds ticked by, and then the door was opened a scant inch.
There was no light to be seen through the door opening, only pitch
darkness. And then a voice inside grunted, and the door was swung open
wider.
"Come in quickly, please!" a soft, hissing voice commanded out of the
darkness.
The man passed through into the darkness, and moved a little to the
side so that the door could be closed. He heard the latch click. And
then at a second click light flooded the suite sitting-room in which he
stood. He turned his head and met the eyes of the man who had opened
the door. He smiled coldly, and the corners of his mouth were a little
drawn and tight.
"You are nervous tonight, _Herr_ Kyoto?" he muttered thickly.
The one addressed as _Herr_ Kyoto smiled broadly, but only with his
lips.
"It is better to be nervous than to be a fool, my friend," he said in
his soft hissing voice. "A fool dies soon. And a dead fool is of no use
to his country, be he Japanese or German. You agree, yes?"
The man who had entered the hotel suite shrugged his massive shoulders,
slipped out of his heavy coat and threw it over a chair as he let his
big frame drop into another one.
"Perhaps yes, and perhaps no," he grunted, and watched the other glide
across the rug and settle like a butterfly in a chair that would
comfortably have held three of his half-pint size. "I cannot speak
for you Japanese, only for Nazis. And a man who can be a fool cannot
be a Nazi. At least, he can merely be one in name only. But I speak
just words. You may have a reason for your seeming nervousness? It
is possible that you are not so safe in London as you would like to
believe, eh?"
The Japanese smiled again, and once again it was only with his lips.
His eyes were still like those of a cobra on ice. He reached out his
thin right hand and rubbed the ball of his thumb back and forth across
the ends of his other four fingers.
"During my stay of twelve years here in England, my true German
friend," he said, "I have spent much money so that all would be well
when the day arrived. My money, my lips, and my hands have done all
that was necessary to prove that I am Japanese only by birth. It is
known, and believed, by all those of importance in England that instant
death awaits me should I ever return to Japan. That is as I wished,
and planned it to be. True, yes, I am often stopped on the street. I
am often politely conducted to the nearest police station by some fool
English official. But my papers are all in order. They have been so for
years. And so it is always an apology and my continued freedom in less
than five minutes. However, perhaps being nervous yourself causes you
to think that I am? Perhaps that is what you mean?"
The German's face became hard and brutal. He thrust out his right arm
to its full length, with his fingers extended.
"So!" he said harshly. "You don't see any trembling or quivering
of the fingers, do you? No, and naturally so. I have no time to be
nervous--about anything. I have time only to serve _Der Fuehrer_, and
the Fatherland."
"As in like manner I serve my Heaven-born Emperor, and Japan!" the
half-pint breathed out. "However, you and I need have no worry about
the other. Nor was this meeting arranged so that we might discuss such
impossible things. It was arranged for you to make a report to me, yes?
And you have a report to make, please?"
The Nazi lowered his head for a moment, and a look of angry contempt
glowed in his eyes. However, when he raised his head again his
twinkling eyes matched the smile on his lips.
"Yes, and a most interesting report, _Herr_ Kyoto," he said. Then,
after a quick glance at his wrist watch, he went on, "At this moment
the airplane is in the air and flying westward. They are both aboard.
And one of them must carry the document that was delivered to the
commandant of the Croydon Airport. My agent also told me over the
telephone that this commandant walked out to the airplane with them.
He saw the commandant hand something to one of them, to the one named
Dawson, so he believes. But because of the distance, and the bad light,
my agent could not tell which of them received what the commandant
gave. However, that is unimportant. We know, now, that one of them
carries a certain document."
"It would seem so, yes, _Herr_ Miller," the Jap murmured, and gave a
short nod of his head. "Forgive me, please, but we do not _know_ if
this be _truth_. Your agent saw something change hands, but he did not
see _what_ changed hands."
"Perhaps I should have instructed him to run out to them and ask?" the
Nazi sneered.
"It would have been foolish to do so," Kyoto replied, as though the
remark had sailed right over his head. "But I was only pointing out a
possibility, my friend. Like you, I am sure that the one called Dawson,
or the one called Farmer, carries the document. Had they not dined with
Soo Wong Kai I would wonder. But they did, and so I do not wonder."
The Japanese emphasized his words with a faint nod of his billiard
ball-shaped head. And for a moment or two the suite sitting-room was
filled with silence. Presently, though, the little brown rat of the
Rising Sun made chuckling sounds in his throat, and gave a little twist
of his head.
"These enemies we must fight and crush are strange people, indeed!" he
grunted. "They let two mere children, two young boys, perform a task
that belongs to grown men. It is difficult not to laugh in their faces
when I hear of them doing such things. No wonder they prove so weak,
and so stupid!"
"And lucky!" the German echoed savagely. "Those two, I mean. I had two
brothers, two of our greatest aces. This Dawson, and this Farmer, shot
them down. One over France. The other in Libya. It was over a year
ago. My brothers were killed. That American and that English swine
have probably forgotten all about those two air battles. They probably
do not know to this day the names of those they killed. But I know of
_them_. And I will never forget. It will be the greatest joy of my
life to let them know the truth--just before I destroy them as they
destroyed my two brothers."
"When _all_ is accomplished, may that joy be yours threefold,
my friend," the Japanese said softly. "But _not_ until _all_ is
accomplished. Personal desires must wait. There is something else a
thousand times more important. You agree with me, of course?"
The Nazi's face tightened, and he locked eyes with the Japanese. Being
of the "Master Race," he was filled with the sudden animal urge to curl
his thick fingers about the little brown man's neck and snap it as one
might snap a toothpick. His sense of treacherous cunning refused to
permit him the joy of doing that, however. These monkey men of the Far
East were of some use to _Der Fuehrer_ in carrying out his great and
wonderful plan for the world. So it was better to soothe and salve them
along until they, too, should be made slaves to serve the Fatherland.
And so _Herr_ Miller presently relaxed, smiled and nodded his
bullet-shaped head.
"But of course, _Herr_ Kyoto!" he exclaimed. "You need not have any
fears. We Germans win the battle first, and enjoy ourselves afterward.
No, have no fear. A certain document will never reach Washington D.
C. That is my promise. With my own hands I will turn it over to you.
_Der Fuehrer_ himself has so ordered. Nothing, then, shall stop me from
obeying that order."
The Japanese nodded politely, but a glint of worry came into his
slanted brown eyes.
"Yes, the true soldier always obeys," he purred. "But, speaking of the
little arrangement just between us two, the money is even now waiting
for the moment when you place that document in my hands. No one else
will know. However, I do not think that it can be earned with words,
words that we speak to each other here and now. There is an airplane
carrying that document westward at this moment--while you are here,
honoring me with your company. Time is short, and the distance from you
to that airplane grows longer and longer. But then, it may be that you
are a master of magic, yes?"
_Herr_ Miller laughed, and there was both amusement and scorn in the
tone.
"So you _are_ the nervous one, eh?" he echoed. "You worry that I let
those two little swine and their precious document slip through my
fingers? Ah! I am afraid that you do not truly understand us Nazis,
_Herr_ Kyoto. We plan for everything. We make sure that there will be
no failure, even before we start. _Mein Gott!_ You have only to look
at all that we have accomplished in two short years to believe for
the truth what I say. Yes, time grows short, and the distance grows
longer. But that matters little to me."
The German paused to puff out his chest, and set his jaw at an arrogant
angle. These stupid little brown men of the Far East! What swine to
think they could suggest things to Germans! But aloud, he said:
"In a few moments I will leave you, _Herr_ Kyoto. I will go to a
certain spot not many miles from here. Yes! Close to the shadow of
London itself. A German plane and a German pilot will be waiting for
me. He will take me far out to sea. The plane is very fast; so much
faster than this airplane that has the document aboard. Also, certain
of our U-boats well posted about the North Atlantic are keeping track
of that British airplane's journey. I will contact them by radio, and
will meet the one nearest to that airplane's course. By parachute I
will go down to the water's surface. The U-boat I select will pick me
up. A short time later it will be light. Then we will go to the surface
and watch for this aircraft. And when we sight this airplane?"
The German paused again, rubbed his hands together, and shook with
silent laughter.
"Then, _Herr_ Kyoto," he continued, "will be the beginning of a most
enjoyable little experience. And by the following day, at the latest,
you can expect me here in this room--with your precious document! It
will all be so very simple."
As the Nazi finished the Japanese rose from his chair, clasped his two
hands in front of him and bowed low from the waist.
"I salute you and bid you good fortune, _Herr_ Miller," he said in
his soft hissing tone. "I will await with joy and confidence for your
return. When the document of which we speak is in my hands, it will be
the same as the winning of a score of major battles. May good fortune
go with you, and the deep joy of your personal revenge be yours _after_
you have accomplished the main part of your mission."
The Nazi smiled and turned toward the door, but there was a look of icy
contempt in his eyes that the Japanese did not see. However, perhaps it
was not necessary for the Japanese to see that look of cold contempt,
for when the door had closed behind the Nazi the little brown rat from
the Far East curled his lips back in a snarl, lifted one hand and
sliced it edgewise through the air.
"When you return with the document," he hissed out in his native
tongue, "_then_ we shall see who is of the master race!"