G-8 #5 The Vampire Staffel by Robert J. Hogan

Author:Robert J. Hogan
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

THEY entered a large room. At once G-8 was aware of a different atmosphere; more of a foreign air and yet cultured. The stone walls were draped with hangings of costly tapestries. Long, narrow windows were ranged at intervals about the sides.

And at the far end, under a brilliant light, stood a low, wide desk.

There was a large carved chair behind the desk and the figure who rose from it at their entrance was the most interesting thing in the room.

The Leutnant saluted and received a bow, graceful and at once disarming from the man who had risen from his chair.

“Amen Sikh, we have captured one who already has admitted that he is a spy,” the Leutnant said.

Amen Sikh was a man of medium build.

Rather broad shoulders gave him an athletic look, but the stouter stomach almost instantly took away that appearance.

The face of Amen Sikh glowed a darkish color in the strong light. His hair was black, crowned with a deep red fez. A long, finely kept black mustache tapered upward in a gradual curve from his top lip until it ended in waxed ends that gave him a rather devilish appearance.

He wore a Prince Albert coat and black trousers to match; his shoes were cloth topped and buttoned with pearl.

He puffed a long, foreign looking cigarette which he held by a still longer holder. And he stared at G-8 with very dark, piercing black eyes.

“A spy, eh,” he said in German that carried an accent of the Far East. “A spy and you admit it?”

G-8 smiled then, and almost instantly the face of Amen Sikh clouded slightly.

“I haven’t denied being a spy, at least,” he ventured. Then came quick footsteps from behind.

“Special agent Kurmer is here, Excellency,”

the orderly announced.

Amen Sikh turned his head calmly. He too smiled now.

“He has news?” he demanded with a side glance at G-8.

“Good news, Excellency.”

“Good. Show him in at once.”

Hardly had Amen Sikh uttered the words than an alert little man bolted into the room. He stopped short at sight of the Leutnant and G-8.

“Bitte, Excellenz. I did not mean to intrude,” he apologized.

Amen Sikh motioned him to come in.

“But I have news, Excellenz,” Kurmer insisted. “Perhaps before I mention it you would want to be alone—with me?”

“Nein,” Amen Sikh said. “This one,” jerking his head toward G-8. “He is fool enough to admit that he is an enemy spy. Go ahead with your news—if it is good. Perhaps he as an enemy spy will enjoy hearing it, ja?”

Special agent Kurmer eyed G-8 for a moment.

Then he turned to Amen Sikh.

“Very well, Excellency,” he said. “I will do as you wish. I have been over the lines as you know.

Everything is working well in the first test.

“An airplane dropped one supply of the locusts above the artillery camp near Colster across from Munnheim. I have to report that men are dying there by the hundreds of the White Plague. It will win the war in a matter of two or three days. We can kill the entire population of France, and later of England, if that will be necessary.

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