The Devil—With Wings by L. Ron Hubbard Read Free Book Online Page B

war to an intelligence officer?”
    Shinohari smiled. “You are very quick, Honorable Sir.”
    â€œIf war does flare, Japan’s position would be very admirable.”
    â€œNaturally,” smiled Shinohari.
    â€œNaturally,” echoed Forsythe, grinning. “And your own financial position, Honorable Captain, would also be admirable.”
    â€œYou allude to something definite?”
    â€œI am not sure,” replied Forsythe.
    Shinohari wanted to divert this trend in the conversation but he showed nothing of it on his polite face. “May I ask if you have made your lovely traveling companion comfortable?”
    â€œQuite. It was about her that I came to see you tonight, Captain Shinohari. You know of her brother, of course.”
    â€œOf course. A most regrettable situation, eh? And a most pitiable plight for the beautiful young lady. She has a powerful friend in you, Akuma-no-Hané !”
    â€œThank you. And while we are on the subject, would it be violating your military secrecy for you to tell me what you did with this brother?”
    Shinohari’s blank mask slipped for a fraction of a second. Blandly, then, he shrugged. “You flatter even me, Honorable Sir.”
    â€œNevertheless,” smiled Forsythe, spinning the .45 round and round until it was a glittering blue pinwheel in the yellow light, “nevertheless, I think it might be prudent for you to inform me of his whereabouts.”
    â€œThere are many unmarked graves in Manchukuo, Honorable Sir.”
    â€œAh, yes. And we have both had our share in filling them. But I do not speak of graves, Captain. I speak of a living man. Robert Weston. A young engineer of great promise…” Forsythe stopped, smiling placidly. “After all the favors we have exchanged, Captain, it would hardly be sporting for me to shoot you so ignominiously. Besides, once dead, you are not likely to talk. I regret the necessity of speaking about such crude things, but…” He shrugged and suddenly the .45 was motionless, muzzle centered on Shinohari’s temple.
    Shinohari studied the blankness of the goggles above the gun. There was something horribly unchanging about those lenses. They gave the impression that Akuma-no-Hané was capable of no feeling whatever. Shinohari’s black gaze fastened upon the muzzle and he felt small hairs rise up along the back of his neck.
    But the captain was calm. “I am afraid I must disclaim all knowledge of this young man, Honorable Sir. One in my position, even though lowly, cannot keep constant watch upon all persons in the land.”
    â€œPardon,” said Forsythe. “But you did not think for a moment that…” He drew the message from N-38 out of his pocket and tossed it down on the table. “…that I would believe this other than a misleading report destined for the files and the files only.”
    â€œMy dear sir,” said Shinohari complacently, “you are in error, I assure you. This you accuse me of is high treason.”
    â€œYes,” said Forsythe. “High treason against the Japanese government.”
    Shinohari was almost chuckling. “You rave insanely, Akuma-no-Hané. There is the message. It is from N-38 here at Aigun, and you found it on file in Port Arthur. No signature, nothing to make it valuable or believable to any power under the stars.”
    Forsythe was smiling broadly. Very softly, he said, “Only one thing has slipped your mind, Captain. Two months ago, here in the Amur section, your N-38 attempted to knife me as I slept. I shot and killed him.”
    â€œYes,” shrugged Shinohari. “But…”
    Forsythe’s voice became a monotone. “Yes, two months ago here on the banks of the Amur, N-38 died. And Robert Weston did not reach the Amur until two weeks after that event.”
    A cold, sharp knife of realization went twisting through Shinohari’s questionable heart.
    â€œThe