Worlds of Edgar Rice Burroughs Read Free Page A

home.”
    “And your wife?” Mireau asked.
    Tarzan shook his head, unable to lie about this. But Mireau clearly took that gesture to mean that Jane had not survived.
    “My condolences,” Mireau said. “So you returned to Algiers to resume your work?”
    “I do what I can to stop the Germans,” Tarzan said.
    “But you did not contact the War Office,” Mireau said.
    It took Tarzan a minute to realize that Mireau was not repeating what he understood; Mireau was making certain that Tarzan had spoken to no one in the French government.
    “I had not given the War Office any thought until I got this telegram an hour ago.”
    “It is several months old.”
    “I am aware of that. The man who delivered it worked hard to find me.”
    Mireau’s eyes narrowed. Then he nodded at a nearby chair. “Would you like a drink?”
    Not in the middle of the afternoon. Tarzan had never gotten used to that custom. He declined, and then peered at the chair. It was too small for him. He knew without trying that he could not sit in it.
    So he remained standing.
    “I am to talk with you,” Tarzan said, wondering if he should have come. Mireau had not volunteered anything when Tarzan mentioned the Germans.
    “Yes,” Mireau said. “I would like to see your papers.”
    “I don’t carry papers,” Tarzan said. At least not in the name of Jean C. Tarzan. But he didn’t add that.
    Mireau stubbed out his cigarette. “I would normally ask you to leave if you did not have papers, but I have read your files, Mr. Tarzan, and those of your superiors, and I know what an unusual man you are. I doubt there are two men who look like you in all the world.”
    Tarzan smiled thinly. “The portraits of my ancestors show that my looks are not that unusual.”
    “Around here they are, monsieur ,” Mireau said. “And on that basis, I will ask you this: would you be willing to take an assignment off the books for the War Office? We have need of someone with no ties to officialdom.”
    “I am not sure whom you are, sir, nor do I know who you represent,” Tarzan said.
    Mireau smiled thinly. “There are official diplomats and charges d’affaires in each major city. Then there are men like me, who handle the—shall we say—darker side of diplomacy.”
    Tarzan had met such men before. They had fewer scruples, but they seemed to be loyal to their countries. Tarzan had no such loyalty to France, nor to England, but he did feel such loyalty to the jungles here in Africa. So, for that reason, and because he hoped to ask in a roundabout way about news of Jane, he asked, “What do you need me for?”
    “You know the war is going badly for the Allies,” Mireau said.
    Tarzan waited.
    “We believe that a small group of our own people is selling information to the Germans.”
    Tarzan shrugged. “Arrest them.”
    “It is not that easy,” Mireau said. “A network of spies works Algiers, and the head of that network is making a small fortune by ruining the war effort. Track the money, perhaps get involved in the network, and we will—”
    “I am not a subtle man,” Tarzan said. “And I do not plan to stay in Algiers long enough to infiltrate any group.”
    Mireau tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling for a long moment. Then he sighed and sat up. “You are our only hope.”
    “I’m sorry,” Tarzan said. “I’m not the man for you. Perhaps someone else will be able to help you.”
    He turned and as he grabbed the door knob, Mireau said, “Perhaps there is a different way to do this. You are looking for news of the Germans in Africa. These men would have that news.”
    Tarzan turned around slowly. “You do not want me to find these men so that you can arrest them.”
    “We are at war, Monsieur Tarzan ,” Mireau said. “Finesse belongs to peacetime.”
    “I am not an assassin,” Tarzan said, and left.

    Tarzan stepped into the hallway, noting that it was just a bit cooler out here. That office had felt stuffy and uncomfortable, and