NICK CARTER
THE ULTIMATE
CODE
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THE ULTIMATE CODE
A Universal Original
When Killmaster found himself locked in with a
strange commando unit, unable to communicate
with AXE, there was only one thing he could be
sure of— one of them was a traitor. But which one ?
Gordon, the CIA operative who refused to be-
lieve Nick was carrying top-secret equip-
ment ?
Kasner, the "linguist" who had trouble speaking
English ?
Marika, the beautiful Greek who knew as much
about Greek politics as the ruling gen-
erals ?
Evans, the C doctor" whose bag of medical sup.
plies turned into a radio transmitter ?
Vlarkos, the burly Greek who had his eye on
Marika and was itching for an excuse
to kill Nick ?
Jeorgos, the old man who knew the secrets of the
mountains—and a few others besides ?
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CHAPTER ONE
The sound of water thumping against the underside of the
automobile as it sped through rain puddles on the expressway
mae - impossible. I sat hunched in the rear seat of the
se€l:n and tried to doze. After being on my feet con-
tinuously tior twenty-two hours, it was diffcult to remain
awake.
The khaki-uniformed driver glanced into the rearview mir-
ror only occasionally. The precaution was hardly necessary.
Few cars were on any roads at this gloomy pre-dawn hour;
we had passed those that were with a spray of water. Corporal
Towler, the driver assigned from the Fort Meade motor pool,-
watched me in the mirror. He took my restless moving in the
seat as an indication of impatience.
"Don't worry, Mr. Carter/' he said confidently, "we'll get
there in time."
I had barely been able to make out his youthful featureä
from the dim light of the dash, but they were becoming clear-
ermow. The fog that had surrounded us ever since we had
turned off the Washington-Baltimore freeway was beginning
to lighten before the pale, yellow beams of the headlights.
Getting there in time meant arriving at Andrews Air Force
Pase before a Boeing 707 from the Presidential Fleet of VIP
aircraft tmk off. Special arrangements had been made for
me to be a Ict-minute passenger if I could be delivered in
time for takedT. I glanced at my wristwatch for the ump-
teenth dme. Departure was scheduled in less than twenty
minutes.
The rumbling car Splashed through another puddle as we
left onto the last stretch of Suitland Parkway leading
toward Andrews. double-lane road cut through hilly res-
idential areas where houses looked down upon the concrete
ribbons from sloping embankments. The route now ran rela-
tively straight from a point close to the east shore of the tur-
bid Potomac to the north entrance of the military airfield.
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NICK CARTER: RLLMASTER
T flee a track-wise filly, Corporal Towler sensed the home
stretch and increased speed.
I leaned forward over the back of the driver's seat. The
speedometer needle was creeping past the 55 miles per hour
mark. 1 'Better slow down, Towler," I cautioned. 'T'he fog's
tricky around here, and we've still got dme.Ø
gyes, sir," the kid replied, and fre needle backed off to
fifty.
back of Towler's head became more defined as bead*
lights approached from behind. I could tell from the spend
with which the brightness increased that the overtaking car
was moving fast. Towler noticed it too. He anticipated the
passing and eased slightly to; the right. It was dificult to see
how he managed to divine the dividing center line marked on
a highway surface that was mirrored with rain.
The approaching car rushed by us at high speed. So fast in
fact, thit I had time only to identify it as dark-colored
Chrysler. As it passed, both cars entered an enormous puddle
and the rear wheels of the passing car sprayed us with a gush
of rainwater, and the force of it caused our sedan to vee
sideways. Tte water peeled back and washed over the hood
of the government sedan like snow being thrown aside by a
rotary plow clearing a drift-clogged road in the Rockies. For
a moment the view through the windshield was what we'd see
if we were driving along a river bottom. Vision ahead •was
nothing but a wall of water; the beating windshield wipers
vere unable to part the flood, and Towler had diffculty keep.
ing the sedan on a straight heading He quickly pulled his
foot up from the accelerator. The car jerked, pitching me
forward. Towler barely managed to maintain control.
V/hen we were past the flooded portion of the highway and
the drumming of water splaying up from underneath faded,
the wail of trailing siren caught up with us. I looked back
over my shoulder. Through the thinning mist behind, I could
see flickering red lights fast closing in on us.
Towler sensibly slowed down further. We were going a•
mere 40 miles an hour when the state patrol car rushed by.
The reckless driver of the first car seemed to be paying no
attention to the pursuit; the twin taillights grew dimmer in
the mist ahead. As I watched, they suddenly glowed doubly
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THE ULTIMATE CODE
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bright, indicating that the speeding driver had applied the
brakes.
In the combined light of the early dawn and the beams of
the screaming police cruiser, I saw the big Chrysler up ahead
swerve abruptly in the road, throwing aside a broad sheet of
water. The car fishtailed, slewed wildly, and finally spun com-
pletely around. Its headlights bobbed as the front wheels
bounced over the roadside curb. The next instant the big
Chrysler toppled on its side and began rolling over and over
until it stopped with a jarring, metal-crunching impact
against the steep, grass-covered embankment.
Corporal Towler continued to coast up to the grim scene
where the state trooper's car was braking to a halt, its siren
growling down to silence. The red rooftop lights continued
flashing. As we approached, I thought I saw another splash
Of water washing over the underside of the tilted automobile
until it turned a bright orange color.
"He's caught fire!" shouted Towler.
"Pull over!" I ordered needlessly, for Corporal Towler was
already edging off the road.
I jumped out of the sedan before it had come to a full stop
and ran over to the Maryland state trooper, who was un-
buckling a hand-operated fire extinguisher from inside his
cruiser. "Got another one of those?" I yelled.
"Other side, game place," he called over his shoulder as he
mn toward the wrecked automobile.
Towler already had the opposite door open and was unfas-
tening the fire extinguisher from its hold as I rounded the
rear of the police car. He ran to join the trooper with me
right behind him. Smoke and a flutter of flames formed
a barrier between us andthe battered vehicle.
I felt useless and was, until I sized up the situation and
hurried to the opposite side of the two-door hardtop to see if
the occupants could be helped from there. The»entire body of
the car was crushed •in, clamping the bent door tightly within
the twisted frame.
I tugged at the door handle, putting all 185 pounds of me
into the effort, but the door was stuck tight. No one was
going to get out that way without the help of a cutting torch.
Two people were inside, but neither one wag moving. The
driver, a sandy-haired man about my age and build was
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NICK CARTER: KILLMAS*ER
draped losely over the broken steering wheel. The end of the
steering column was buried in his crushed and crimson-
stained chest. His head was twisted grotesquely; he starea
back at me with open, glassy, and unseeing eyes. Next to
him, a woman was curled up in a gruesome heap under the
dashboard. From the lopsided shape of her blood-covered
head and the cracked pattern on the windshield above her, I
knew instantly that she was dead too.
I heard a voice call out behind me, but it didn't register
for a moment. The sight of two people who only minutes ago
were very much alive but now were nothing more than
squashed mounds of flesh is something you don't stomach
easily, no matter how many times you've seen it. And in the
years I've been with AXE, carrying out assignments that re-
quired me to use my Killmaster authority, I've seen more
than my share. Someone grabbed at my arm and jerked me
away. The grim-faced state trooper thrust his fire extin-
guisher into my hand. "Keep that going while I radio for as-
sistance!" he said.
I rushed around to the side of the car where the flames
were beginning to make headway, and started pumping the
extinguisher handle, directing the stream of fluid where the
combustion seemed to be concentrated. It was obvious that
the two hand-operated extinguishers weren't going to contain
the fire. It continued to grow in size and intensity.
I glanced over at Corporal Towler. He was vigorously
pushing air out of his now-empty extinguisher. I shoved the
one I'd been given to him and shouted to be heard over the
hissing noise from the blaze. "Here ... just try to keep back
the fire long enough for me to get at the door!"
I edged up to the side of the car, shielding the side of my
face with an uplifted arm. As I reached for the door handle,
someone linked a strong hand around my wrist and pulled
hard, I looked over my shoulder. trooper, his face scarlet
fröm the light of the fire, leaned close to me. 'There's noth-
ing more we can do! Get back. Get back fast! This buggy's
about to erupt!"
I turned around and saw Towler scrambling toward the
highway. With firm urging from the state policeman, I back.
stepped quickly on the wet grass. We got as far as the road-
side when the rear of the •sizzling, smoking car blossomed
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THE ULTIMATE CODE
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into a huge ball of red fire as the gas tank exploded. A wave
of heat borne by a poof of wind whooshed over us. Heat
seared my lungs and bit at my face.
The rear bumper of the death-trap automobile sprang off
the back of the car in the explosion and flew toward us. It
slithered along the grass so rapidly that we barely had time
to leap into the air, •allowing the heavy metal piece to skim
underneath us at ankle height. The whistling, chrome-plated
bumper struck the side of the trooper's car with a deafening
clang. A white roundel bearing a green cross inscribed with a
gold caduceus was attached to the bumper: the dead driver
in the burning car was a doctor.
During the five minutes it took for the first piece of fire
equipment to reach the scene, Towler and I stood by help-
lessly. The state trooper got inside his patrol car again to
summon his district supervisor. Two minutes after the fire-
men arrived, the doctor's automobile was smothered with
bubbly foam, making a white cocoon that enclosed the man
and woman inside their ruptured metal coffin.
It took the trooper another precious five minutes to write
out information from Towler and me on his preliminary
accident report. In the process he made it quite clear that
our cooperation and statements were most important. An-
swers to additional questions would be expected by the super-
visor who would be arriving in a short time.
Time of any kind was something I didn't have. It took only
a moment for me to consider the consequences of remaining
in place to await more police interrogation against getting
aboard the aircraft at Andrews. I was going to have to miss
one or the other, and there was little choice. Without any
real intention of doing so, I told the state trooper that I'd be
glad to stand by.
Nothing superseded the priority orders I'd been given after
a long night of brain-beating instructions—instructions issued
by a much higher authority than the governor of a state.
There was no doubt in my mind that failure to carry out my
asigy:nent without delay would bring penalties far more
severe than any provided by Maryland law for leaving the
scene of fatal accident. point had been made so force-
fully that any obligation I felt to assist in explaining the
deaths of two people had little influence on my decision. By
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NICK CARTER: RIILMASTER
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comparison, two people—dead or alive—didn't count for
much. Losing no more time, however, was far more impor-
tant.
opportunity I needed came a moment later when a
fireman called the state trooper away from Towler and my-
self. I shoved the corporal in the direction of the government
sedan. "Let's go," I said.
"But the fuzz told us—n
"Move it," I growled, "and that's an order! We've got only
five minutes to cover the next four miles."
Headlights were no longer needed. A bright spot lightened
the gray. fog ahead where the morning sun was rimming
above the horizon. I took a long look out of the sedan's rear
window at the start of the straight, high-speed run to the turn-
off leading to the air base. The highway patrol car didn't
start up in pursuit, but about fifteen secondy after Towler had
squealed away from behind the cruiser, the trooper cranked
up his siren. Towler instinctively pulled his foot off the accel-
erator.
"He's not trailing us; be's just making noise," I shouted ast
I turned around to face forward again: "Keep it rolling! I'll
take the responsibility."
Towler made the four miles to the air base with thirty sec-
onds to spare. He slowed down just enough at the gate to
give the Air Police guard a chance to jump back into the
guard house rather than get run down. But once inside, the
guard reached for the telephone to alert the sergeant of the
guard.
The Air Police jeep dispatched to intercept us swung out
onto the ramp only seconds after we had reached it, but the
stubby little vehicle lacked the speed to catch us. The white-
coveralled fight line crew beginning to pull the boarding
stairs away from the big Boeing 707 with the presidential
seal on its side stopped in their tracks and turned startled
faces toward us as Towler leaned on the horn. ney scattered
as the government sedan skidded to a halt only inches away
from the lower step of the mobile stairs.
From the seat beside me I snatched up the small and
most-important satchel which a stern-faced offcial had signed
over to me at Fort Meade. I also gathered up the handle of a
large bag that contained a change of clothing and the toilet
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THE CODE
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articles needed for a three-day trip. Strapped around my
waist was a belt that served more purpose than holding •up
my double-knit slacks. It also kept tight at my side a holster
containing Wilhelmina, my special 9mm Luger. In its cus-
tomary place along the inside of my right forearm was Hugo,
a pencil-thin stiletto which could be propelled into my palm
with a flick of my wrist. Tucked up the inside of my thigh
was Pierre, a gas bomb the size of a ping pong ball.
The small arsenal was with me for a reason. Until I deliv-
ered the contents of the smaller bag, I was expected to guard
it at all costs.
Dragging the two pieces of luggage behind me, I leaped
out of the sedan.
A smüing steward, dressed in black trousers, a dark yellow
jacket, and a white shirt with black four-in-hand, pushed
open the door of the plane just wide enough for me to enter.
The two starboard engines were already churning and rum-
bling. The outboard port engine belched a plume of black
smoke from its tailpipe, and a wave of hot air, heavily laced
with the pungent odor of kerosene, poured over me as I
squeezed inside.
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CHAPTER Two
Tae moment I was safely inside the carpeted cabin with
the door locked and sealed behind, me, the steward reached
for my bags. A name tag pinned on his immaculate jacket
bore the identification of Airman First Class Ryan. I passed
him my flight bag, but shook my head when bis hand
stretched out for the smaller case.
'%is one will have to go into your secure storage com-
partment," I said quickly, pulling it back.
do, sir," Ryan replied while stretching a long arm
out to recapture the case. He was accustomed to encounters
with passe6gers whose briefcases required special attention.
He smiled with complete understanding.
The stocky man who walked rapidly down the center aisle
Of the plane toward me apparently was not smiling. At first
glance I thought he was short; his broad shoulders and thick
legs gave him a width that seemed to reduce his height. His
muscular thickness made him appear heavy at a distance.
When he thumped up and came to a menacing halt in front
of me, I had to tilt my head back to look him directly in the
eye.
From the way he glowered at me from dark, deep-set eyeg
shaded by thick, black eyebrows, I could see he wasn't
pleased about my tardy arrival. "It's a goddamned good thing
you finally got here!" he said in an unnecessarily loud voice.
"One minute more, old buddy, and we'd have left without
you, regardless." His voice was just like the rest of him---big
and strong——and just a bit overpowering.
The aggressive attitude of the man who reminded me of a
middle-aged pro football fullback set me on edge. Whoever
he might be, he was either omcially in charge or was {he
pushy type who automatically took over. Even though his
wide necktie was loosened and his shirt collar open, he had
the bearing and self-assurance that made me think he was
some sort of career government employee with enough senior-
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THE VLTIMATE CODE
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ity to shove bis weight around. That made him a local prod-
uct, because Washington is over-staffed with that kind.
My irritation must have shown because his slit of a mouth
remained tight. I didn't smile either. He had no claim on me,
but if the aircraft and flight were under his control for the
duration of my trip, I could see where getting of late might
make a difference to him.
I was about to apologize and explain that my near-misg
was due to unusual circumstances. I got aa far as the begin-
ning of a smile when the steward, having deposited my spe-
Cial case in the secure storage bins came up to us and said,
"Gentlemen, you'll have to take a seat and buckle yourselves
in." He snÄtct1ed a handhold above him as the plane swayed
slightly in a tum and began to taxi toward the takeoff run-
way.
The Wide-shouldered man pitched me dark frown and
abruptly spun on his heels, walking away spread-legged to
maintain his balance. I followed him with my eyes as he
moved forward to the bulkhead of the center compartment.
He closed the fine-grained mahogany door behind him
I lurched toward the port side and reached out to grab
hold of the upright back of a thick upholstered chair next to
me It was one of a pair of wide, side-by-side seats that
bracketed a table which had a huge mosaic of the presiden-
tial seal in its white formica top. I slipped sideways into the
seat and snapped the safety belt acmss my lap. The steward
disappeared behind me. Over my shoulder I watched him use
a white telephone-intercom to talk to the pilot's flight deck.
Other than the steward, the grim-faced wrestler type was
the only visible passenger aboard, There were others because
muffed sounds of snoringcame from behind heavy blue drapes
that hung in front of what was a bank of double-deck
bunks along the port side of the aircraft. From the symphony
Of discordant sounds, I could tell that at least four of the six
beds were occupied.
I looked out through the double-paned, pressure-tight vin-
dow next to me as the plane roiled rapidly and smoothly
along a taxiway parallel tofthe runway. Air travel is com-
monpiace for me. Ag 8 member of the super-secret AXE or-
ganization whose boss, David 1187k, is obsessed with keep-
its existence and agenG unknown, I've had assignments
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NICK 'CARTER: EILLMASTER
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that shuttled me over almost every ocean, continent, and po•
lar cap. I've sandbagged in some ill-equipped, fly-by-night
foreign airlines whose pilots' landing ability is severely ham-
pered by an all-powerful death wish.
Being aboard one of the president's planes was different;
the Special Air Mission pilots assiY1ed to jockey administra-
tion VIP's around are generally a cut above the average. An-
other reason I wasn't nervous was that I was almost numb
from lack of sleep. The quiet rumble of the engines had
a lulling effect on me.
At the end of the runway, the aircraft wheeled into takeoff
position. Ryan slid into the seat opposite me as the swing was
completed and more engine power added. We faced each
other silently as acceleration built up. At liftoff speed, the en-
tire cabin tilted about twenty degrees, and we were instantly
airborne.
Ryan and I sat looking at each other for about three min-
utes. He studied my face and smiled sympathetically. My
weariness must have hung out where it showed plainly.
'Slf you don't mind me saying so, sir, you look wiped out,
I'll bet you could stand something to ease the frazzle before
you hit the sack."
"Youive got a bunk for me?'
"Oh, yes. Up in the mid compartment where the other
gentleman just went. Didn't anyone tell you?"
"All I was told was that there would be a seat open on this
flight if I got here before takeoff. Since it's daylight now, I
figured this would be a sit-up flight."
"Ordinarily it would be. But it seems this group"—he
waved his hand toward the, opposite side of the •fuselage
where the light-shuttering drapes screened the sleepers——
"didn't get here themselves until about half an hour ago. I
guess everyone except the crew was up most of the night, ei-
ther traveling or being rounded up. We've made up beds for
everyone. It'll be an easy trip for the crew with all the guests
in limbo."
"Who was that bear who growled at me when I came
aboard?"
"Unless they wear name tags or introduce themselves, I
don't ask. The aircraft commander has a manifest up in the
cockpit, but for some reason it's been classified Secret for thig
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THE ULTIMATE CODE
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flight. So I don't know names, but the stocky gentleman
seems to be top dog. I thought you two knew each other."
"We don't, and I'd just as soon keep it that way."
Ryan unfastened his seat belt and began to hoist himself
out of the comfortable chair. "l don't need to know names to
tell when a man looks like he could use a drink. What's
yours?"
"Scotch, please," I answered. "Make it light, with ice and
plenty of soda if you have it."
Ryan smiled down at me from his standing height. '"The
only thing we don't have aboard is a dame, and even if we
did, you look too pooped," He frowned slightly. "I'm pretty
good at pigeonholing people—I see enough diffeænt ones—
and I was wondering if you're with the State Department. D
"No, I'm not. What makes you think that?'
"Most CLA types lean more toward bourbon, and the way
you were cuddling that small bag you brought aboard, I
figured you as a diplomatic courier carrying something very
special."
"You're close-—about the smaller bag—but otherwise I re-
ally don't belong to anyone on a permanent basis right now."
"Sorry if I seemed to be prying," apologized Ryan. "I'll be
right back."
He disappeared through the rear bulkhead door into a gal-
ley at the same time the silver and white Boeing 707/ eased
up into the most dense part of the overcast. The whole into-
rior of the plane grew dim. There vas no turbulence. Only
the promise of a drink I could use badly kept me from
ing my eyes and going to sleep right then..
Ryan's mention of the elongated case, which was now
safely behind a tight lock, and his wondering about my gov-
ernment affliation turned my thoughts to the unexpected de-
velopment that caused me to be where I was. It certainty
none of my choosing, but it also wasn't within my ability to
refuse.
I had been naked and sitting on the turned-down toilet seat
cover with a towel around my shoulders when the phone
rang. I jabbed the cotton swab I was using back into the bot-
tie of antiseptic and took one more look et the fading AXE
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NICK CARTER: XILLMASTER
tattoo on the inner side of my right elbow. I wondered if the
deep fingernail scratch across it yas going to leave a scar.
While padding across the thick carpeting in my apartment,
I began concocting a story why I couldn't give an encore per-
formance for the eager yotmg socialite whom I'd left lying
dreamy-eyed and languid in her bed only a few hours ago.
She hadn't wanted me to leave. But another session with her
could leave me slashed to ribbons, not to mention bruised in
a few intimate places. Her strength and insatiable demands
disproved the rumors circulated by her ex-husband that
she frigid: I knew better. In my book there are no frigid
women—only inept men. There are also tired ones, and right
now I wag one of them.
As I reached for the phone I vowed that tonight I was
going to sleep long, solidly, and alone.
"Carter here," I announced into the instrument.
"Hi, Nick, this is Gingerr Ginger Bateman, a Junoesque
redhead from Atlanta is an AXE girl Friday whom I always
thought would be especially capable on Saturday night. "The
Man says you should get here---on the double."
She gave me no chance to answer. She needed none. Re.
sponge to a summons from David Hawk is automatic. An un-
scrambled call over an open line can only be treated as ur-
gent
I hurried as directed. Getting out of the apartment so I
vouldn't have to take a call from that honey-voiced society
chick was another incentive to leave quickly.
Trafic• was light on New Hampshire Avenue so I made
good time. I slid my car into the reserved slot AXE kept for
me in the basement garage of the DuPont Plaza Hotel and
went out the fre door into the alley. I walked clockwise half-
vay around DuPont Circle, passing the Iraqi and Nigerian
embassies. it was a quiet afternoon.
The first alphabetical listing on the directory in the build-
lobby is Alliance for Peace located in Suite 514. I had al-
ways suspected it wag a front for something else. 'Ihe second
listing is Anulgamated Press and Wire Servicer. I know
that'! a phoney. It's the cover name for AXE, which occupies
most of the third ßcor.
The reception room was empty: It normally is. Very little
work is done out in the open. A familiar voice boomed over
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concealed loudspeaker. "Come right in, Nick The door's
open."
My entry had been detected by a body-heat sensitive elec-
tronic device hidden in the door frame. I had been identified
by an unseen TV camera which dashed pictures to a half*
dozen monitors strategically placed in the offces.
Hawk sat tilted back in his large executive chair, his feet
resting on an open bottom desk drawer. For once he wasn't
smoking or chewing on a stub of one of his cheap cigars.
carcasses of four mangled butts lay soggy-ended in his hub-
cap-sized ashtray. I can always judge Hawk's mood by the
rate the Stogie butts accumulate, and evidently this wasn't
one of his better days.
"Sit down," he invited, awarding me with a slight twist of
his lips, which is the closest he ever comes to generating a
smile. He held out a humidor containing cigars. I shook my
head. It takes a strong-stomached man to endure them, let
alone smoke them. I got his approving nod when I drew out
my own pack of custom-tailored cigarettes.
After we lit up, he let me relax for a minute, That in itself
was out of character; because Hawk is a restless, dynamic
man who seems to be constantly in motion. As director and
operations chief of AXE, the clandestine intelligence organi-
zation with no omcial charter, David Hawk has to maintain a
fast pace. He manipulates its obscure, worldwide activities as
deftly as an exacting maestro conducts a well-rehearsed sym-
phony.
Hawk's chronological age, which I guessed to be around
sixty, and how he got into his unique position are two of the
many well-kept AXE secrets. That he exercises tremendous
influence at top levels of government is not, He worked as
hard to keep AXE unknown and its select staff invisible as he
did to carry out successfully the secret missions assigned to it.
#How do you feel, Nick, my boy?" he asked finally.
If ever there was an indication that I wasn't going to feel
go good after Hawk told me what he had in mind, that solici-
tous approach was it. His - unexpected concern and the
friendly, intimate salutation were like a signal—the kind that
warns of a hurricane or some equally serious disaster on the
way.
Hawk seldom addresses me by my first name when he has
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business in mind. It's strictly CtN-3" when the job is a calcu-
lated mission where my Külmaster skills are to be used.
When he regort8 to the fatherly approach, the job usually
turns out to be political and delicate.
"Just fine, sir," I replied to his question md left it at that.
wondered what was causing Hawk's reticence. He wasn't the
kind to beat around the bush.
He blew a cloud of bluish smoke toward the ceiling. I'd
never seen him look •so indecisive. For a full twenty seconds
the room was so quiet that we could hear the drive motor of
his worn tape recorder humming. He frowned, then lifted his
feet and reached into the desk drawer to switch off the ma-
chine. 'This will be strictly off the record," he decided.
I wondered what in hell I'd done wrong thig time.
'Tm taking you off the job for a few days, Nick."
So I had goofed somewhere. Or was he implying that I
had some compensatory time coming? No, I decided; Hawk
wasn't that altruistic. Hé had wmething else in mind. "%ere
must be a reason." I said aloud exactly what I was thinking.
My remark seemed to give the lean, gray-haired man tbe
opening he was seeking. He thanked me silently with another
one of big odd smiles. "Yes, Nick, there is. More than one, in
fact' The first reason is a rumor that the overseas networks of
one of our sister intelligence agencies has been threatened with
exposure. A rumor—nothing more---but some of our heav-
ily-manned counterparts are running scared. When that hap-
pens, it's prudent of me to take notice. As a precaution, I'm
curtailing certain operational commitments until I can get a
fix on the facts."
Hawk isn't this open with anyone, so I knew that what he
was telling me was only a prelude to something If he
were going to give me a week off from work he wouldn't be
so mysterious; he would be making a big production out of
it. In addition, Hawk never shows much interest in the prob-
lems of the old-line govemment-regulated intelligence agene
cies. not diffcult, because AXE missions are always
unique—mostly due to the very unorthodox techniques
ployed, and especially by those of us with an $'N" classifica-
tion. I've been designated "NO" for some time. It's never
been revealed to me how many N operatives AXE has or
who N-l and N-2 are or were. I suspect that boff of
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them are dead. In this business, only the desk types can look
forward to longevity.
"So the whole works is going to grind to a halt," I said.
"Not quite," replied Hawk. "In your case there's a task •to
be done ... but it's a little bit out of the ordinary."
That was a gross understatement. Hawk's never given me
an assignment that wasn't out of the ordinary.
He saw my reaction. "Let me explain," he added. 'SOver the
years I've had to get involved with a lot of people—good
and bad. The good ones I've hung onto are old-timers from
the days when there was more cooperation and less throat-
cutting. A few are still around who did me some favors when
I was trying to get AXE off the ground. I owe them some-
thing."
The gruff, flinty-eyed chief was beating a wide path around
the shrubbery. He kept staring down at his ash-sprinkled desk
blotter. I waited through another long period of silence. It
was the first time I'd seen him gropfng for the right words.
Finally, he took a long drag on his iile-smelling cigar. 'The
upshot of all this, Nick, is that I want you to know I've got a
few markers out and one of them is being called in. But I'm
damned lucky it's something simple that can be handled with
your help."
I felt relieved ... almost. Hawk is a Wiley old fox, but he
always plays square with me. I indicated my support. "Since
I'm going to be loose anyway, I'm glad I happen to be avail-
able."
"It isn't only for that reason I'm relying on you," Hawk re-
plied. '*Neither of us has a choice. You see, your past as well
as mine have come back to haunt us."
"My past?" I repeated. %ere were a few extra-curricular
episodes I hoped Hawk hadn't learned about.
"Quite some time ago you gave Admiral Fredericks' re-
search people a hand on a special project. They need you
again for a couple of days."
I knew the name Fredericks and where it fit into the top
echelons of the U.S. intelligence community. I recalled the
special project Hawk had in mind. I was more concerned
about something else. "You mean someone was able to trace
me back to AXE?"
"No, and that won't happen. To be on the safe side, we've
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NICK CARTER: KILLMASTER
set things up so you'll be found through some out-dated Pen-
tagon files, but they'll have to dredge you up by themselves. I
don't alter my policies for anyone, not even a trusted buddy
like Tom Fredericks."
Hawk didn't mention he wag violating another policy by
permitting one of his N agents to move out of bis control.
"Do I use any kind of cover?' I asked.
"The best. Vou're a free agent. As of now, you don't bee
long to AXF, you never heard of it, and, if anyone mentions
AXE to you, I want you to remember his name and bring it
back to me. If you slip and mention AXE to anyone, don't
bother to come back at all."
"I understand perfectly, sir. I don't anticipate any diff-
culty. Once out of the door, I am not, nor have I ever been
associated with either AXE or Amalgamated Press and Wire
Services."
confirmed Hawk, now pumng contentedly on
his odoriferous cheroot.
"Anything else, sir?'
"Just follow their instructions and keep your nose cle+n.
Do exactly what they ask and no more. Get the job done and
get back to us. enrey'll tell you what they want. Be sure to
drive back to your apartment by a route that makes it ap-
pear you came from the Pentagon. When•you've finished, let
Miss Bateman know that you've bailed out our chums."
I was intercepted at the doorway of my apartment building
by an offcious and determined little man who popped out of
an kiteragency Motor Pool sedan before it stopped rolling.
He pursued me into the lobby and started waving some om-
Cial papers. Inside the elevator he also allowed me to inspect
a couple of impressive identity cards and another document
personally signed by the secretaryof defense.
The man's name was Morton Sweig. He was so intent on
performing his subpoena-like service that he never questioned
my wholehearted submissiveness. He gave me five minutes to
grab up some shaving equipment, put on a fresh shirt, and
throw some extra clothes in a valpack before we got under-
way.
The driver knew Where to go, and from the way he sped
northward on the Washington-Baltimore Expressway, the trip
was extremely important. The dapper Mr. Sweig was as
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talkative as a sphinx, but at the proper time he said the
magic words that got me inside the double-fence-protected,
green brick and glass-walled building that housed the Na-
tional Security Agency located on the Fort Meade, Maryland
reservation.
Sweig handed me a plastic badge the size of a credit card,
complete with long, metal-bead chain so I could hang it
around my neck like an amulet. Mine didn't display a photo-
graph of the wearer like Sweig's did, but it got me a wave-
through from both uniformed marines who guarded each Gf
the two electrified and electronically locked gates leading up
the main entrance.
Inside, we rode up on the escalator after again showing
our badges to a third armed marine who . guarded the
mechanical stairway. On the second floor, Sweig motioned to
the right. We went down the corridor of pastel blue metallic
walls to where the director's offce was located, mid-way
along the half-mile-long building. One door beyond it, Sweig
gestured me in. It was the anteroom leading into the deputy
director's suite.
An overweight, partially bald man with a broad, pasty-
white face and a large-nostriledt W.C. Fields nose, was sitting
in the carpeted, walnut-paneled foyer looking at the current
copy of Playboy magazine. He hastily shoved it under some
periodicals that were on the top of a massive coffee table in
front of the deep-cushioned leather sofa on which he sat, He
worked hard just getting to his feet. "My name is Cole.
Cole. I'm chief of ComSec. That means Communications Se-
eurity, in case you don't remember." His voice was small
compared to bis over-stuffed body. He didn't offer to shake
hands.
$'I remember," I answered. recalled the man's name, but
we had never met.
don't think we ever ran across one another," Cole's thin
voice piped. "l was probably working in One of those strictly
compartmented areas of ADVA Division as a cryptologist,
chipping away at some frustrating, sophisticated Russian dip-
Iomatic code when you were here. Mike Lassiter was in
charge of ComSec at the time, wasn't he?"
It was Cole's way of checking me out. "I never heard of a
Mike Lassiter," I yowled, still not happy Ohth being shuttled
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NICK CARTER: KILLMASTER
around without some explanations. t 'When I was stuck here
in an R&D section working on that funny-type coding device
for the Defense Department, Rog Decker was head of Com-
Sec." I paused to let that sink in, then asked: "D'you have
any more tricky questions you want me to answer?"
"Yeah," Cole sneered. "How many pins are there in the
third rotor in the second bank of rotors in the Dordex crypto
device?"
It took me a moment to visualize the equipment that had
been developed during the six months I'd worked with the
highly-classified intelligence agency whose job was to inter-
cept and decipher every coded communications transmission
produced by nearly every country in the world. The effort
was equivalent to wire-tapping the global networks of every
nation capable of operating a communications system. To
prevent others from doing the same to United States, huge,
secret budgets were expended every year to design, fabricate,
test, and frequently junk expensive machinery that coded, ci-
phered, and scrambled military and civilian governmental
communications so that sensitive information could be ex-
changed safely without being read by unauthorized persdns.
Dordex equipment was part of the NSA arsenal.
I used a half a minute to conjure up the proper blueprint
out of more than two dozen which represented the complete
Dordex mechanism. My eyes were closed as I replied. "The
third rotor on the shaft is a double-plated cam containing six
variable depression pins and seven static pins on the left hand
plate, with five depressible pins and eight static pins on the
right hand plate." I opened my eyes.
Cole gave me a grudging smile. "You're Nick Carter, all
right, or one of the twenty-three other Dordex cleared types
who were entitled to that much engineering daia." He
reached out and shook my hand for the first time. His palm
was damp and his fingers were fresh-dough soft.
'"Wili one of you tell me why I'm here?" I askéd.
"Now we can." answered Cole. "Come inside the DD's of.
fice. I've had a carafe of coffee brought up. The first of
many, I'm afraid, because you're going to be here a while."
He opened the inner door and we stepped into an immense
room. Floor-to-ceiling drapes covered a wall of glass that
provided a view of the executive parking lot, which could ac-
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commodate twelve hundred cars. Run-of-the-mill employee9
and assigned military personnel comprising another fourteen
thousand workers had other vast, multi-acre parking areas
adjacent to the north side and the back of the building. At
one end of the thick-carpeted offce was an oversize executive
desk flanked on one side by the American flag and on the
other by a white silk banner bearing the distinctive seal of
the National Security Agency. The desk top was bare, not be-
cause the office was not normally occupied, but because no
unattended papers are left on any NSA desk at any time. Eve
erything, including ashtrays, calendar pads, and even personal
family pictures, goes into locked drawers at the close of the
day.
At the other end of the room was a blunt-ended, wedge.
shaped conference table that was purposely constructed so
that no one seated around it would have to lean forward to
see the man conducting the conference from the widest end
of the table. Now, only three chairs bracketed the smallest
end of the table. Placed within easy reach of each was a
large serving tray holding a glistening chrome coffee server,
heavy silver spoons, and a dozen cups and saucers.
The last time I was in this omce, the then deputy director,
a civilian by the name of Ransome, was prematurely congrat-
ulating the R&D team of which I was a member for com.
pletion of the Dordex project and claiming it an unqualified
success. It finally was, after another nine modifications, but
the deputy director was leaving NSA to take a more lu-
crative job in industry and wanted to depart government serv-
ice with some mark of accomplishment. Ransome was the
second deputy director I had seen arrive and scramble out of
NSA in my brief stay.
We sat down at the table. The coffee Cole poured for him-
self and me was hot and strong. After the first sip, I ventured
a comment. "Maybe you'd better understand that there's
some question about my status," I said quickly. "Before we
start on anything that might compromise you, I'd better—2'
"We know," broke in Cole. "When we contacted the Pen.
tagon to find you, we ran into a dead end. ne director him
self had to get into the act, using channels unknown even to
me. That left us with no way to check your security status
. if you still have one. But, as you will recall, our jurisdic-
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tion for granting clearances exceeds that of the Defense ne
partment, so we've temporarily reinstated you with a "Q"
and 'iCosrnW' clearance in order that you might do a particu-
lar job for us."
In answer to my questioning look, Cole went on: "You're
on loan to NSA for a couple- of days, or for as long as it
takes you to hand-carry a new set of Dordex rotors to one Of
our more sensitive locations."
"You mean some of those old machines are Sd-II in the in-
ventory? Even before I left here I got the impression from
some of the cryptoanalysts that they would be able to break
the Dordex system with as few as five repeats using the
code."
Cole replied with a snort of contempt. 'They're always
bragging about potential successes. Dreamers, that's what
they are! Christ! We've been plugging away at the Soviet's
Salinski matrix for more than fifteen years and all we've got
is couple of warehouses in Crane, Indiana, stuffed with tons
of intercepted messages that we'll never get around to running
through computers in hopes of getting a hit. No, Carter,
sometimes the oldest turns out to be the best."
"But rotors burn out once in a while, I take it?'
"Yeah„" Cole admitted, Obut so rarely that when it occurs
simultaneously in two different installations, we turn up short-
handed and also suspect something more than a natural error."
'GThat happened? Where?"
"It's not important at the moment. Right now, we want to
make sure that you remember enough of the chassis con-
struction to make the rotor installation."
only mentioned delivery the first time," I protested.
"Now you say install. What's wrong with your own area serv-
ice rep?" I gaid "area" because I knew that all the Dordex
machines in service were placed in overseas locations.
' 'He can't be in two places at the same time. What bap-
pened is that the unit set up in Spain packed up first. No
sooner had our maintenance man moved from Ankara to
Athens-—where he picked up the only spare rotors stored
there and moved on to Madrid—-than the Dordex in the em-
bassy in Athens burned out an identical set of rotors. It was
a million to one shot that it would ever hapöen."
"Exactly one hundred and thirty-three million, six thousand
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and forty-two chances to one," calmly corrected Sweig, and I
immediately tagged him as one of the many NSA statisticians
who compiled useless data in which only they and a few math-
ematicians like themselves would ever have an interest.
'SAnyway," Cole continued after lighting up a pencil-thin
cigar that gave off a sickeningly sweet aroma, "we've got to •
get a new set of rotors installed at Athens within the next
twelve hours. You were the only qualified man we could
bring here on such short notice—at least that's what our
computers told us—and we're going to give you an all-night
refresher course to make sure you can make the hookup and
include all the modifications that were made in the Dördex
system since you left here."
"Modifications?"
"Only about three important ones that affect the parts
you'll be replacing. A couple of knowledgeable R&D men will
go over the blueprints with you and check you out on a
breadboard mockup we threw together this afternoon. By five
in the morning you ought to be able to stick the pieces to-
gether blindfolded."
"Five in the morning? Tomorrow morningP
'That's right. There's a plane leaving from Andrews Air
Force base at six for a through flight direct to Athens."
'You really must need to get that transceiver back into op-
eration," I commented. "What's the hurry?"
Cole gave me another one of his vapid smiles. CfYou've
been away from our cloistered club too long. Carter. You've
forgotten that even here-—with every possible security clear-
ance given to you—you're still only privileged to be told
what's necessary for your job. Essentially, 'need-to-know' ig
the key and there's no need for you to know why you're
doing this job, no need to know who else in involved, or why
or how special arrangements have been made to fly you out
on a priority aircraft in less than nine hours. I'll remind you
again---and keep this foremost in your mind—-don't ask ques-
tions. Don't answer any. Just do what you're told and accept
any assistance you feel is expected, but keep mum about your
job. I needn't tell you the consequences. If you veer from this
course or go beyond our instructions, you'll be in such a
shitpot full of trouble that even your sacrosanct, cigar-smok-
ing boss will smell.ø
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"How do you know who my boss is?" I snapped. I was
anxious to find out. Hawk believed no one below Cabinet
level had a tag on him.
"See?" chided Cole. 'There you go again, asking ques-
tions."
"Well, goddammit," I said a bit louder. "I've got a right to
know what's going on if it affects my future."
Cole knitted his eyebrows together. ' 'Frankly, Carter, no
one here cares about your personal problems. As a matter of
fact—from what's been rumored about your activities—I'd
prefer to have almost anyone else for this job. Unfortunately,
you were our only choice."
"It's nice to be needed," I muttered glumly. I looked up to
see Cole examining my face intently. I locked eyes with him.
He dropped his first; he couldn't afford to lose me. I might be
his last choice, but I was also his last resort.
Cole finally looked up and glared back at me. He chose
NSA's most potent weapon to bring me in line. "We may
have to include a session on pertinent regulations related to
classified activities. If 80, we'll omit one of the short relief
periods we've scheduled through the night. As an alternative,
we'll have selected parts of the law regarding protection of
national defense secrets read to you over the top of a latrine
partition while you're sitting on the crapper. That's how close
we've got to apportion the little time left."
"Okay," I agreed because I had no other choice. "Let's
keep moving."
And that's how it went. I must have drunk two quarts of
coffee and when that began to do little good, one of the NSA
staff psychiatrists came in and punched a hypodermic syringe
into my arm. He said the shot was a booster equivalent to
four hours of sleep. Before he left he talked with me, and im
the end he bad me sign a statement that turned out to be a
form attesting that I was temporarily sane and stable enough
to be trusted.
It was sometime after a substantial breakfast around four
in the morning that we got down to the home stretch. A
dozen faces and voices had been beating things into my loggy
brain until it was beginning to clutter. I began thinking it
might slip a cog because of the overload being jammed into
it.
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It was struggle to keep awake. My mind started to wan-
der, conjuring up improbable reasons why I shouldn't be
forced to race halfway around the world to fin some silly
cipher machine. T'hinking in such ridiculous terms snapped
me back. I took a couple of deep breaths and stifled another
yawn.
In the end, I was taken downstairs to the second under-
ground level.
We passed through huge rooms crowded with compoterg
churning away at top speed under the watchful attention of a
full complement of programmers. The rooms were warm
despite the efforts of tremendous air conditioning units to
counter the heat generated from the computers. Reels of
spinning magnetic tapes, making thousands of trial-and-error
examinations of hundreds of intercepted messages ench rniV
lisecond of time, sought to find some technical flaw or human
fault in Soviet, Chinese, French, Indian, Italian, Korean,
Japanese, and even the Vatican's diplomatic or military trans-
missions that would reveal the key to still another country's
secret codes.
A breakthrough would mean that our intelligence analysts
could learn how many tons of iron ore or bamboo sprouts
were being shipped down the broad Yangtze, or how many
carats of diamonds were being harvested from the mines of
South Africa, or that a new, more lethal missile had been de-
ployed in the aerospace defense ring around Moscow. It all
comprised part of the most expensive and extensive spy net-
work in the world. One in which I was to play a very minor
and temporary role.
Behind mechanically-operated sliding doorg whose two-
inch-thick plates sandwiched six inches of dense lead, I was
greeted by the youngest man of the many I had seen. After a
warm, friendly handshake, he got right down to
From a vault buried. in one wall, he brought out a stack Of
black plastic discs that were about the size and shape of the
clay pigeons used in skeet shooting. In the grooves and crev-
ices that cobwebbed the oversize hockey pucks were hun-
dreds of fry colored wires leading to polished copper con-
tacts that rimmed their narrow circumferences.
He brought them to a well-lighted table on which rested a
black leather carrying case. It was lined with a thick. white
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substance that looked like styrofoam insulation. 'Ihe case
looked like a doctor's medical bag, except it had two locking
latches instead of the usual one. The interior lining was mold-
ed so that the rotor discs could be held firmly in place and
be separated from each other.
The young man instructed me to insert and remove the ro-
tors three times for practice. He then gave me a fresh pair of
surgical gloves which were sealed in an unbroken plastic en-
velope. He showed me where to place them in the bag until I
would need them to handle the rotors when I got to Athens.
Then he supplied me with a complete set of stainless steel
tools unique to the Dordex mechanism, and finally, he bad
me verify the registry numbers on four classified blueprints
and sign for them. He then folded the intricate engineering
drawings and watched me tuck them inside the bag.
At that point, the young man made a near-fatal mistake.
Without warning me, he reached out and spread apart the
lapels of my jacket. Because of my dulling weariness, he got
that far beforel reacted, My over-tired sense also caused me
to engage with him instinctively.
I brought up both arms in an abrupt, wide-sweeping mo-
tion. My driving fists struck his loose forearms, sending his
hands flying up and apart. He let out a startled cry and
nearly dropped to his knees as the pain reached his shoulder
joints. 'I%e momentary agony was intense and immobilizing.
I realized what I had done and bent forward apologeti-
cally. ne poor fellow cringed, thinking I had gone berserk
and was moving in to attack him again. S'l'm sorry. I really
am," I said sincerely. "You should have told me what you
were going to do."
"I—I only—only wanted to make sure you had been given a
weapon." He looked at me as if he were still unsure that I
wouldn't use it on him.
I opened my jacket. "It's there."
He licked his lips, then began once more with what sound-
ed like a rehearsed patter. "You're required to be armed at
all times when you aren't otherwise in a properly guarded fa-
cüity," he warned. 'That means you'll wear a side arm as
you leave this building and continue to do so until you enter
the communications center in the Athens embassy. That
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do—n't apply for åe period you'll be airborne, but you're
vised to keep your weapon handy even while in flight."
"Seems like a lot of Mickey Moose business to me--—mak•
Élg such a big deal when only seven Dordex units are left."
The technician lifted a hand with admonishing index finger
extended. "You made a slip there, Mr. Carter. Mr. Cole
warned you not to venture information to anyone unless neces-
sary. How do you know that I'm entitled to the information
that there are only seven operational Dordex machines in serv-
"How the hell do you know that he warned me?" I coun-
"It's scheduled bere on the check list." Suddenly hig voice
rose. "Mr. Cole did remind you, didn't he?" He sounded as it
he were fearful he'd been responsible for discovering an
omission in the briefing program.
"Yes, Cole mentioned it," I responded. I was too weary to
get involved ia a long discussion.
The young man gave a sigh of relief. He glanced at his
clipboard to be sure he would cover everything. "Now, there
are only two things left and you'll be ready.'$
"After the seven hundred things I've already been told," I
said with intentional sarcasm, "what's a couple more?" I was
giving the kid a bard time, and I realized it was because my
over-tired nerves were frazzled. I gave him a friendlier shrug
and curbed my rising impatience. There was no point taking
my mental fatigue out on the young man who was the last
link in an unusual chain of events. I curbed my rising anger
and said, "Okay. What's left?"
'Gese last two items are most important. One is, for sure.
Your life depends upon it."
"Ill wake up for that," I said and meant it.
"We'll take up the identity verification first. Athens knows
you're coming. They don't know your name but they know
that some specialist from NSA wül show up. We haven't time
to provide them with the standard proffe identification on
you, so the emergency procedure is to supply a one-time,
six-unit identity code right here on the rotors. When you
open the case in Athens and show the exposed rotors in place
to the communications security chief there, hem know you
are our man."
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NICK CARTER: XILLMASI*ER
"Sir units? Like a piece of my social security number?"
"Or six random letter characters," he suggested.
"How about C-A-R-T-ErR?" 1 askeæ "1 can remember
that."
Before he noticed I was grinning, he replied, "Come on, sir,
that's not random. In fact, it's dangerous. Forget you have a
name." He pointed at my pistol under my jacket. "How
about COL-T-4-5? *Ihat's a combination of digits and
"It's a nine-millimeter Luger," I corrected him.
He looked at his wristwatch and said quickly, WThink of
something anything at all."
"All right," I replied. '4Make it 'Willie.' I've got a good
friend by that name,"
He made a note on his clipboard, then announced. "Fine.
For the duration of this project, you'll carry the code identifi-
cation of Willie." He set the rotors to read W-I-L-L-I-E.
' 'Now, Mr. Carter, pay very he continued.
I said, you life depends on this." His words had a way of
dispelling much of my lethafgy. "Look at this carrying case
again. It's not •as innocent as it appears. That lining aroucd
the rotors does protect them in transit, but it offers more se-
curity than that. The cushioning material is mainly styro-
foam, but it's wholly impregnated with a thermite plastique.
It'y a material that can be shaped and remains stable in a
molded form. But when it's triggered, it ignites explosively
and bums rapidly at terrific heat."
G'l've heard of it," I said.
4'So what we have here ig an integral, positive-destruct
device. It's a fail-safe system in case someone manages to dis-
pose of you and obtain the rotors, blueprints, add the special
tools. You see, unless these latches on the bag are opened
properly and in the correct sequence, the whole works goes
up in fames."
All tiredness left me for Cle time it took for a demonstra-
tion. The safe-opening procedure involved siiding first the
left-hand latch and then the right-hand latch outward on the
frame for a movementof about half an inch, followed by a
lifting of the left-hand latch first, then going to the right-hand
latch end doing the same. It wasn't a complicated or diffcult
sequence, but enough of combination to fou any unau-
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thorized person Who might tamper with the bag. ne
mechanism included a re-insertable safety pin so the case was
something like a hand grenade. The possessor could use the
safety pin to render the bag inert if he chose.
When the young man handed the carrying case to me, he
left the arming pin in place. I remember handling the bag
with extreme care as I left the NSA building in the early
morning darkness just before dawn.
Airman Ryan nudged my arm. I opened my eyes. Tie stood
next to me holding a round silver tray. Alongside a hand-
etched, lead-crystal goblet containing my scotch and soda was
a crisp, Irish linen napkin embroidered with the White House
seal.
I took the glass and sucked in a Cold, satisfying swallow. I
nodded my thanks and approval to Ryan, then turned and
looked out the window. We were in brilliant morning sun-
shine now. A complec carpet of white, puff-topped clouds
stretched out to the horimns far below. I blinked my eyes.
They burned and felt as if each one contained a thimbleful of
fine, grating sand.
There was no point in delaying the inevitable any longer. I
took a second, full mouthful of the nerve-soothing drink and
stood up. "I'd like to go to bed now, if you'll show me
where."
Ryan took me into the center compartment where four
king-sized bunks were made up—a pair on each side of the
broad aisle. The curtains were drawn aside on one. The daz-
zling white sheets and a pair of thick pillows looked most in-
viting. 'The warm sensation that suddenly flowed over me
couldn't have come solely from the drink; I must be feeling
the backlash from that needleful of stimulant the NSA doctor
had pumped into me.
I didn't care which one was makir:g me float.
Ryan took the glass from my hand.
I swear that before he pulled the drapes together behind
me, I was numb of all feeling and completely out.
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CHAPTER THREE
When was shaven awake. after what seemed to be a
three-minute sleep, I wasn't prepared for the gruff voice that
biasted me.
"You going to sleep right around the clock? We're landing
in thirty minutes and we haven't got all day to unload. So
drag your ass cut of the såck and let's get this show on the
road!" The square-built man who had given me the brusk
welcome as I boarded the plane was in good form. He
barked at me a drül instructor ripping off a new recruit.
If I weren't still groggy with sleep, I would have given him a
piece of my mind,
Before I rolled out of the soft, warm bunk, I drew aside
the curtain. covering the window and looked outside. The
world was ciouded in the half-light of approaching darkne38.
A lavender backdrop of sky hung just beyond the green glow
of the wing-tip navigation light. We had overtaken the clock
by flying east with a speed that condensed time. It was ale
ready night somewhere over the Mediterranean. I had slept
through ail the daylight hours of one entire day.
Airmen Ryan, still neat and ready to serve, presented me
Tith a cup of steaming coffee as I finished putting on my
sboeg. I appreciated his compassionate thoughtfulness.
way to the head?" I asked, taking the coffee.
"Forward," he answered, "but don't take drne to shave just
now. Your friend who keeps paying particular attention to
you asked me to tell you that you're expected to sit in on a
meeting be's holding in the rear compartment."
I got to my feet and looked toward it. The bulkhead door
vaa closed. So were the bunks which had extended out into
the aisle. As I turned away, Ryan began stripping the bed
with emcient, practiced motions. Ahead of me, on either side
of the aisle, a half-dozen enlisted men were removing their
uniforms. They went about their work silently under the
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watchful eye of a uniformed sergeant. At a word from him,
they cleared the aisle to let me pass.
Vntlen I returned, considerably more awake, the men were
seated. Each one was clean-shaven, neatly groomed, and
dressed in a conservative business suit* The sergeant was issu-
ing passports and pointing out briefcases and hand luggage
that each man was to carry. process was done in such a
way as to suggest it was part of a well-rehearsed drill.
I didn't wonder about soldiera weqring civilian clothes. The
relationship between the newest Greek government and the
United States was still shaky, despite American efforts to win
favor with promises of vast amounts of economic aid. The
Greek politicians dorninating the former kingdom basked in
their power and were not inclined to show ready acceptance
of any foreign influence. Illey definitely did not want a dise
play of U.S. military uniforms on the streets of Athens.
I threaded through the quiet American group whose faces
showed mote concern than animation at the prospect of visit.
ing the ancient Grecian city. Beyond the closed compartment
door at the rear, I came upon three men seated around the
formica-topped table where I had fallen asleep the mcrning
before. The dark-haired man who had singled me out for his
particular brand of persuasion waved a hand holding a fresh-
ly-lit cigarette, motioning me to sit in the only vacant
I slid into the Seat and inspected his two companions. One
was a sandy-haired youth whose sunburned forehead gave big
pale, freckled face a pink east. He couldn't have been more
than twenty-four years old. He wore a turtleneck sweater
under a front-zipped, nylon windbreaker and denim jeans.
Opposite him was an older man. I guessed his age to be
around fifty, with his lined face and bushy, white hair. He
bad a thin, hooked nose and a leathery-looking, brown com-
plexion. He wore corduroy trousers and a khaki bush jacket.
A handkerchief was tied arourxi his scrawny throat, anchored
in place partly by the projection of a prominent Adam's ap-
pie. Bushy eyebrows shaded deep-set blue eyes. Behind his
frank, appraising stare, I thought I detected a sparkle of
friendliness.
"Well," gowled the self-appointed leader, speaking directly
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NICK CARTER: mtLMASTZR
to me, "now maybe we can get our signals straight. First,
can call me Gordon. Next to me here"—he bobbed his head
toward the youth—-"is Evans, and our other friend goes by
the name of Kasner. We use short, simple names for rapid
identification purposes."
Ryan came along and placed a large container of freshly-
squeezed orange juice and a quartet of glasses on the table.
The man who called himself Gordon frowned at the interrup-
tion, but I was grateful. I reached out for the pitcher, offer-
ing to serve, Gordon abruptly waved me off. Kasner refused
with a shake of his head. The young man, Evans, accepted
some. nen I poured for myself.
"What do we can you?" Gordon asked me.
For a moment I thought he was asking for the identifying
code hung on me. by the last NSA technician, but the name
WUIie was reserved unti7 1 would be challenged at the Athens
embassy. "Carter," I said simply and turned my head away
from Gordon's exhaled cigarette smoke. I dislike second-hand
smoke, especially from harsh. force-cured tobacco. I'm very
partial to my own particular brand of custom-blended ciga-
rettes which are personalized by the tobacconist who ecn-
bosses the initials N.C. in gold on the filter tips.
Gordon snubbed out his cigarette with gesture short of
being gracious, then glared at me. "Look, Carter, we don't
know anything about you except this is the first time to my
knowledge that you've been asked to handle this special job,
and that you're supposed to be good at what you do. So am
I, and until we get to the point q}here you go to work, you'll
have to putyour trust in my judgnent. All you have to do is
follow the instructions you've been given and accept the rest
of us without question."
It occurred to me that Gordon was being terribly over-dra-
matic, given the simplicity of the mission NSA had put me
on. Nodding peremptorily, h'e.flnished with, "Okay, then. Just
sit tight and I'll get on with what I have to say."
I leaned back in my seat. The white-haired man caned
Kasner was looking at me with questioning and sympathetic
eyes. Evans looked away, as if he were embarrassed by the big
man's commanding tone.
ONow, to repeat myself—for Carter's benefit," said Gordon,
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"just so there won't be any mistakes. I know everyone wag
rounded up hurriedly and mshed into ffs, but it's not the
first time it's had to be done. It usually happens that way.
I've been put in charge and told to stay on top of our efforts
until someone shows up later to take over. You all know
what you're supposed to do after we arrive, so just carry out
your instructions. Does anyone bave a question?"
Despite the warning from NSA that stressed I wasn't to
ask questions or answer any, there was a lot going on that
made me curious. I figured I wasn't breaking the rules about
questions as long as Gordon had asked for them.
"Who'll be meeting us from the embassy?" I ventured.
Gordon looked at his wristwatch before answering. Ol'hat's
been changed," he replied, this time without barking. "I'm
scheduled to make one more forward contact just about now,
so I'll have a better answer for you in a couple of minutes."
He got up from his seat, then turned back. "Until we're on
the ground and certain that there won't be any interference
with our departure, I'll remind you that it's best that each of
us keep to himself what knowledge he has about the purpose
of this flight. In the meantime, Evans, you follow along and
gee that Sergeant Minnick's detail is ready to deplane if
needed."
I got out of the way so the light-haired kid could reach the
aisle. I then slid over to the window seat he had occupied
and poured myself another glass of orange juice. My mouth
was growing dry. Kasner viewed my actions unemotionally.
After peering at me rather critically, his face showing no in-
dication what his evaluation was, turned his head and gave
his attention to the expanse of wing outside the window. The
darkness that had replaced the fading daylight was as blank
as Kasner's impassive features.
Airman Ryan came up the aisle carrying a large serving
fray. "We'll be on the ground in about fifteen minutes, so
there wa.sn't time to prepare a personal breakfast order," he
said to me. "So I took the liberty of fixing something pretty
04Anything you've gM will do fine," r replied. I saw what it
was when Ryan lowered the tray to the table. It contained a
large oval plate crowded with a three-egg omelet, a half*
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NICK CARTER:
dozen link sausages, and a butter-pat-topped mound of grits.
The paprika-sprinkled eggs were framed by triangles of
evenly-browned ranch toast and small plastic containers of
strawberry jam and apricot preserves.
Ryan saw the bright appreciation in my eyes. "Okay, sir?'
"Just great!" I didn't realize how hungry I was until I
started eating, then I remembered that it had been nearly
thirteen hours since I'd had a skimpy pre-dawn breakfast back
in Washington.
I had eaten, visited the lavatory again Where I shaved with
an electric razor supplied for VIP passenger convenience, and
returned to my window seat before Gordon and Evans came
back through the forward mmpartment door. Evans sat
down next to me. Gordon spoke briefly to Ryan who went
forward again. Then Gordon stood at the end of the table
looking down at the three of us.
"It's a good thing we included Sergeant Minnick's men on
thig å•ip," he declared. '*There's some indication that our ar.
rival is going to cause a reaction. Minnick's troops will play
the customary alternate passenger role to free us from any
interference after we land. 'Vhich means we leave the
craft in a slightly different manner than originally planned."
I watched Kasner nod hig head like the amouncement
wasn't totally unexpected by him. Evans' eyes. crinkled at the
corners ag if he were looking forward to some mischievous
excitement. I was completely bamed by what I'd heard. It
curred to me that my all-night briefing was far from adequatø
considering what I wag up against. I was about to ask why
the American embassy and my diplomatic courier status
wouldn't ag.stre me a normal, down-the-steps-and-into-the-
terminal departure, when Airman Ryan, followed by two
blue-coveralled crewmen I'd not seen before, approached. In
moments they had disengaged and carried away the tabla
top. As quickly as it was removed, two other crewmen ape
peated. One catried my small bag containing the Dordex ro-
in their protective, net-mite-molded cushion. ne other
lugged a large, canvas-covered pack that had a woven shoul-
der-strap harness attached to it. I was handed my bag; the
back pack was placed beside Evans.
Gordon spoke again. two items---the medical kit
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and the sensrtive communications gear—-are our essential
cargo. We must hang on to them at all costs." He was finally
moving down a track that made sense to me. I felt better
knowing that he had revealed himself as part of the support
I'd been told to expect.
Up to this point I had had no indication that Gordon wag
even remotely aware of my part in the mission. Now I was
more inclined to accept his curt manner since it reflected the
pressure caused by his responsibility to me and the vital
equipment I was charged with installing. I couldn't quite
grasp the purpose behind smuggling a huge case of medical
supplies into Greece unless the back pack container was
loaded with rare antibiotics that were subject to confiscation
or possible hijacking.
Gordon explained further: "Wilhout unloading these two
priority items successfully, we might as well not have made
the trip. And since there is a possibility that an intercept at-
tempt will be made—because we now know that certain ele-
ments of the Greek government have been alerted—we'll
have to employ an emergency disembarking procedure."
He began to speak more rapidly. The rumble of the jet en-
gines had diminished and the cabin pressure Altered enough
for me to sense it in my ears. The aircraft was descending. I
swallowed to clear my eustachian tubes.
"Weive delayed our landing as long as we could to be ag-
sured of full darkness when we reach the ground. The four
of us are going to leave the aircraft prematurely as soon ag
we land—before we complete the landing roll. We'll be going
out the emergency exit door over the right-hand wing."
I thought Gordon had slipped a cog. The wing—even the
trailing edge—was a good eight feet above the ground.
Leaping off of it onto a concrete runway while moving any
more than ten miles an hour would almost guarantee a meat
grindér result, if not a couple of broken legs.
He was looking us over as though judging our reactionsto
his words. He had just instructed us to jump to our almost
certain deaths, and now he was watching for someone to
flinch. I steadied my eyes on his and he returned my gaze be-
fore continuing. The others appeared less surprised than I
felt.
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As Gordon went on I realized that our exit, though peril-
ous, wasn't as patently suicidal as his first remarks had im-
plied. The idea was incredible enough, however.
"It's a method we've used before," he barked by way of
reassurance after I'd asked just how foolproof this wild plan
was. "Now, Kasner jumps first, then Evans. Then Carter'll
bail out, and I'll go last."
Everyone nodded as his name was barked by the bulky
Gordon.
"You all got that straight?' he asked.
I had it straight, but I still would have preferred to take
my chances on my diplomatic passport and a possible delay
at the terminal until an embassy staff man showed up to bail
me out. What Gordon had planned wasnat my idea of how to
start a visit to Greece. And it seemed entirely unnecessary.
GVWhat about Sergeant'Minnick's men?" I asked.
Gordon seemed as impatient with that question as be bad
with my others, and answered grumy: 'They'll stay aboard
and de-plane at the main terminal. Toey should serve as suff-
cient decoys long enough for us to get clear without the
Greeks realizing, at first, that there were four more on the
plane. By the time they do realize it, we should be long
gone." He added, "Minnick's men can be trusted to do their
parts. So don't panic, and do yours."
If I had doubted the thoroughness of my briefing at NSA
before, I no longer did; this contingency plan for de-planing
should certainly have been covered. It would take the skill
and maneuvering of an experienced jumper, and although I'd
spent my career getting out of impossible spots via more im-
possible methods, this one sent a chill up my spine.
As Gordon assisted Evans into the harness of his frunk-
sized kit, the sounds of growling and squealing under us told
me that the plane's hydraulic system was actuating the land-
ing gear and fiapg. We were nearing the final approach.
"Don't sweat it," Gordon said, the bark in his voice gone,
"Everything will go smooth as cream if ve have any luck at
I thought to myself, 1 could have used a dress rehearse
al in broad daylight first. Despite Gordon's apparent confl-
dence, the luck he was talking about could easily turn to the
bad kind.
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One thing r was sure Of: if I had known T might be leaving
the presidential plane this way, may 'have thought twice
about sticking around on Suitland Parkway after the car ac-
cident; I just might have stayed there all day;
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CHAPTER FOUR
I lurched up against the bundle strapped to Evans when
the wheels touched down with a high-pitched squeal. A mo-
ment later, a crewman jerked the red handle on the emer-
gency exit door and, with the help of a companion, pulled the
door away from the fuselage. A blast of warm night air
flooded over us where we stood in the aisle Indian file, ready
to move between the passenger seats and then onto the wing.
Gordon, who had stepped back to permit the pair to re-
move the door, quickly returned to his position beside the
hole in the side of the plane. He stuck his head out into the
slipstream. From the way a line of lights in the distance swept
past, I could see we were still rolling at high speed. I bumped
into Evans again as the initial ground deceleration caught me
Off balance. I braced myself for more deceleration.
It came, but after the plane slowed to a certain speed, the
pilot let the huge aircraft coast along the runway. Judging by
the location of the, boundary lights around the airport, we
were still a considerable distance from the end.
Gordon kept his head thrust outside, watching to the rear.
The hand gestures he made behind his back signaled that
Kasner, Evans, and I were to gather in close and be prepared
to vacate the plane. Kasner and Evans responded, crowding
up to the exit. I got ready by first withdrawing the safety pin
from the explosive-lined carrying case in my hand. I dropped
the metal clip into my pocket.
If anything unexpected was going to happen in the next
few minutes because of mistake along the line, I wasn't
going to compound the error by failing to provide for auto-
matic destruction of the rotors and blueprints inside the case,
should they fall into unauthorized hands. Having taken the
proper precautions, I still didn't feel any more secure. Ever
since getting aboard the aircraft—and especially since accept*
ing Gordon's orders—it had become apparent that consider-
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able loopholes had been left in the briefing given to me by
the NSA personnel.
There wasn't time to clear that up now. There was only
time to assume that Gordon knew what he was doing. So I
took a deep breath and closed the gap between Evans and
myself.
Gordon jerked his head back into the plane. He had the
look of a demented satyr with his hair tousled by the wind.
'Wow!" he shouted.
Kasner moved as if released by a triggered spring. One
moment he was standing in the emergency doorway; the next
second he was gone. I hardly had time to speculate whether
he'd slipped with his first step and was now a tumbling,
unconscious form somewhere along the runway behind us
when Evans launched himself through the aperture like a
paratrooper diving into space.
No sooner had the square shape of his canvas-covered load
disappeared behind the edge of the door frame than I heard
Gordon shouting again. "Go, man!"
He was right behind me when the forty-mile-an-hour wind
hit my face.
The slight grip of rubber heels on my shoes were the only
thing that prevented me from losing my footing immediately
on the smooth wing surface. If I hadn't been looking down
toward the trailing edge of the wing, I would have aimed
myself in the wrong direction. But in the fleeting moment I
had between getting out onto the wing and losing my balance
completely, I saw the open back of the fruck under the back
edge of the wing, keeping pace with the rolling aircraft. Just
where Gordon had said it would be.
Te cab was tucked out of sight under the wing, and the
driver was skillfully matching the speed of his vehicle with
that of the fast-moving aircraft.
Kasner was inside, kneeling to assist Evans to sit up. I
dropped into a crouch, sliding back over the upper surface of
the wing.
When I reached the jump-off point at the rear edge of the
wing, a wave of heated kerosene fumes roiling up and back
from a huge engine close at hand engulfed me. I hit the floor
of the buck with one foot and a knee, but I didn't tip over as
I had expected to. I almost dropped my case in the process.
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Then Gordon all but fell on top of me, but he immediately
sprang up and lunged forward. He pounded on the back end
of the cab with a closed fist.
The driver, evidently awaiting that signal, began to slow
the vehicle. The aircraft drew ahead, still spewing behind it
an invisible cloud of hot, jet-fuel fumes that set Kasner
coughing. The truck then swerved, leaving the concrete run-
way and rumbling off onto the grass. It quickly picked up
speed again and headed toward an area of darkness between
rows of lights that rimmed the field. I reached out for sup-
port. A gnarled, hairy hand grasped my wrist and pulled me
down.
"Kha-thee-stay!" said a strong, low-pitched voice that was
laced with the aroma of garlic.
I got his meaning and sat down next to his lanky form. In
the dim light of the star-filled sky, I examined the hollow-
cheeked man next to me. Large, white teeth filled a wide-
mouthed smile that was nearly curtained by a scraggly, han-
dlebar mustache. The wiry-lean Greek was at least four inches
taller than six feet, and his dark, alert eyes had perma-
nent wrinkles at their corners.
The fruck was running in a straight line now, racing acrosS
a darkened, unmarked open field at a speed that almost
pitched me and the others out of the truck. Through the
cab's rear window I could make out faint figures inside bounce
ing and swaying in unison. The lanky Greek showed no con-
cern. His perpetual smile failed to bolster my confidence in
the reckless driving of his friend.
Gordon got to his knees and commenced climbing over the
right-hand side of the truck body to reach a narrow running
board alongside the cab. The tall Greek reached up to shift a
pipelike object out of the way while he lent a hand to Gor-
don. When he moved, I saw a rope-slung carbine lashed to
the Greek's back.
With the armed man's assistance, Gordon swung himself
over the side and managed to get a precarious footing on the
running board long enough to balance himself while the cab
door was pushed open from the inside. Gordon had wedged
himself part way through when the left front wheel dropped
into a hole. entire fruck pitched up on one side. Gordon
was flung bodily into the front seat and across the laps of the
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passengers. Had the opposite wheel rammed into the ground
depression, he would have been thrown away from the truck
and would have been 'lost.
The tangled figures inside the cab reminded me of a pro-
fessional football team pile-up at the goal line. They jostled
the driver so that the truck weaved and jolted, its back
wheels skidding on the grass. Before the driver regained con-
trol, I was thrown against the side of the truck and collected
a bruise along my lower ribs when the holstered pistol at
my waist was driven into my side. Evans and Kasner began
untangling themselves on the floor of the truck. The swarthy-
complexioned Greek was sitting easily in the corner, grin-
ning and joggling loosely as if he was enjoying an amusement
park ride.
He motioned for me to move next to him. I slid over and
he stuck out his hand. As we locked hands, the contented
man rattled off some words and repeated "Jeorgos" often
enough for me to realize he was stating his name.
I nodded and squeezed his callused hand more firmly and
said, "Carter" in reply.
Jeorgos' smile widened even more as he repeated,
"Carter." The clipped accent he gave it made it sound like
part of a sneeze.
Tie edge of the airfield was getting closer. The tnrck
stopped bouncing and the tires hummed over a smooth sur-
face. I looked behind and saw we were angling across another
runway. The driver seemed to increase speed. At the same
time he reached out from his open window and rapped sharp-
ly with his knuckles on the cab's metal roof.
Jeorgos quickly unslung bis weapon and took up a kneeling
position facing forward, his carbine held at the ready. I
reached down and placed my hand on the butt of Wilhel-
mina, not sure whether I was going to have to use her or not.
Right now I didn't know what or who a gun would be used
against. I didn't even know what this emergency drill we
were going through was designed to foil or accomplish. Sup-
posedly, one or more of us was not welcome by the Greek
government so all of us were forced to follow an elaborate
escgpe procedure to avoid being observed or detained. I re•
ally couldn't believe any of this applied to me. I only had
Gordon's word, which was more implied than definite, that
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NICK CARTER: RILLMASTER
my diplomatic courier status was unacceptable to the Greek
authorities at this time, He was right on that score; American
prestige and acceptance in Middle Eastern countries fluctu-
ated wildly from day to day.
As we approached the final boundary lights around the air-
field, I could see nothing sinister ahead. There was no visible
movement of any kind. I looked back again and saw that
Kasner and Evans were staying close to the floor. I wondered
if they knew something that I didn't, such as to expect some
violent reaction as the truck came up to the gate.
We were close enough now for me to appreciate that the
driver had no intention of making a full stop. The reasons for
the protective actions of Kasner and Evans became perfectly
clear. Looking back at them once more, I was surprised how
far we had come from our over-the-wing departure point.
The big Boeing 707, its blinding landing lights pouring over
the main terminal and control tower, was moving slowly
toward the discharge ramp at less than normal taxi speed. It
was obvious to me that the crew was taking as much time as
possible and trying to conceal our escape actions in every
way they could.
My teeth jarred and my vision bounced when the truck
suddenly veered off the concrete again and began cutting
across another grassy portion of the field. Jeorgos was tensed
and peering into the darkness ahead. The truck's headlights
blinked on momentarily; after which the darkness closed in
even blacker than before. But the driver had gotten his bear-
ings and steered toward a particular section of the fence.
As we drew closer to the exit and my eyes adapted to the
night, I could make out the opening with one of its double
gates swung wide. eme other was partially open, suggesting
that something wasn't quite right. The next moment, I could
make out a small shelter at one side of the protective gates
whose shape reminded me of the primitive one-holers that
punctuated the back yards of prairie farms in the pre-septic
tank era. Only this structure was a military guard post that
had alternately white and pale blue bands painted diagonally
on its front and sides. 'The thing that wasn't quite right about
the scene was that no guard was in sight.
When only a few yards from the gate, the truck began to
brake. It slowed to sprint speed upon nearing the sentry box.
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Then I saw the missing guard. He was curled up in a fetal
position, but moving jerkily as if recovering from a knockout
blow. The fallen man wore a uniform almost identical to the
battle dress garb of the British Royal Air Force. His white
suspenders and belt, and white gaiters around his ankles were
dead giveaways -that he was a member of the Hellenic Air
Force assigned to guard the gate of Hassani Airfield, the
Greek military portion of the Athens International Airport.
I'm fairly familiar with the area from first-hand knowl-
edge, which had recently been augmented by map studies
that are part of Hawk's constant training program for AXE
members. The tough old buzzard insists that his N staff par-
ticularly undergo short-term refresher courses in languages
and geography when not engaged in the field. In general, the
repetitive schooling gets to be a bore, but it's times like these
when the effort pays off. At night and on the ground, how-
ever, the field looked nothing like its depiction on the aerial
strike photos.
But my attention wasn't on the terrain or the arrangement
Of the hangars and runways. Instead, I tensed as I saw a
shadowy figure dash out from inside the guard shelter. It
headed directly for the truck. Jeorgos pushed me aside as the
running man reached the side of the moving fruck and raised
a hand to be helped up.
Jeorgos had just started to bend over the side of the truck
when the downed man in uniform struggled to his knees and
began scrabbling about with one hand to snatch up the rife
that lay next to him. What happened next went too fast to
follow every detail.
I saw Jeorgos whip back his extended arm and zwith a
smooth and incredibly rapid motion, pass it across his waist
and up over his head before throwing his hand out into the
darkness. The faint glint of spinning, reflected tight flashed
through the air toward the kneeling guard, who was now
pointing his rifle in our direction. Over the sound of the
truck's noisy engine, I heard a sudden grunt and a startled cry
of pain coming from the airman. His rifle fell from his grasp
as he clutched at the handle of the knife which Jeorgos had
hurled with such force that its blade was buried hut-deep into
the luckless man's shoulder.
Whether Jeorgoe had intentionally avoided a vital spot on
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his target or not was debatable, nevertheless, it was an amaz-
ing display of knife-throwing accuracy considering the un-
stable platform under the thrower's feet. The Greek word he
spat out was a foul curse. He was either lamenting the fact
that he had only wounded the man, or that he had had to
sacrifice his knife. Whatever his reason, I muttered a healthy
American curse as well, because now there was sure to be
pursuit on our heels as soon as the injured airman could sound
an alarm.
The breathless man who scrambled into the truck fell close
to my feet, but I paid no attention to him. I kept looking
back, trying to discern whether or not the guard had already
made it to his feet. I never found out, because I had to grab
hold of a slat of the truck body as the vehicle made a sharp
right turn.
To me, it was a wrong tum. It headed us toward Phaleron
Bay which was in exactly the opposite direction from the
main section of the city where the American embassy was lo-
cated.
It wasn't only the truck that was turning wrong. Every-
thing was turning out wrong.
The entire situation had altered so much from the way i'd
been told it would go that it didn't even seem real anymore. I
don't mind being in tight places if I get into them myself or
am told to expect them in advance. That's happened more
than once, but what was going on around me now was some-
thing that had gotten off the track at the very beginning.
It was about time someone started to provide a few an-
gwers, but I doubted if either Kasner or Evans had been
given any more liberal instructions about talking than I had.
Kasner looked to be the tight-lipped kind, but Evans was
young and might be susceptible to suggestion.
When the right 8me came, I was going to start prodding.
As long as I wasn't going anywhere on my own for a while
I could wait.
I eased myself down next to Evans and watched the two
Greeks sitting hip-against-hip on the opposite side of the
tuck.
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CHAPTER FIVE
ne newly arrived Greek's profile reminded me of the head
of a giant condor. He had a narrow, sloping forehead, a pro-
nounced beak nose, and a sharply receding chin. Thick
eyebrows fringed an overhanging forehead which almost
concealed his close and deep-set eyes, which surveyed the
three of us sitting across from him.
He appeared to be a man in his mid-thirties, and he also
looked perfectly capable of doing the job he was apparently
told to do at the airfield gate. His suspicious eyes and weak
smile in response to remarks Jeorgos was making in their na-
tive tongue suggested to me that he was sizing me up as if he
had been advised I was to be the next victim of his thuggery.
He impressed me as the kind of a man who would enjoy that
kind of work simply because he was good at it.
The truck slowed down to a less frantic pace. It was the
sensible thing to do, since we were now traveling along a
quiet, residential street illuminated by bulbs tucked into coni-
cal metal reflectors that hung mid-way between the buildings
on wires stretched across the street. 'The ride over the poorly-
maintained roadway was no smoother than before. The shock
absorbers, if any, were completely worn out. So was the ex-
haust system. Biting fumes seeped up through the wide-
spaced boards that were the floor of the truck body.
My eyes began to smart. Evans, sitting next to me,
wheezed a couple of times, then coughed. When he recov-
ered, he said aloud, "Jeez, how long we gotta ride in this
beat-up contraption? Kee-rist
you'd think they'd at least
set up some dependable transportation."
I followed up on his opening. "Yeah, they could have
briefed us beforehand about the possibility of de-planing this
way?" I matched his plaintive tone.
He blinked his pale blue eyes to clear away the irritation.
They were brimming with moisture. "Well, I didn't expect to
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have my ass beaten to a pulp in a dilapidated wagon like this
one."
"You've gone through this before?"
"Yeah, three times, but never in this area. Last time it was
South America. Chile, I think. I'm not much on geography
and we're not usually in any one place long enough to get a
good look around. The back country of all those places down
there are pretty much alike to me."
I leaned closer to him. '*You've teamed up with this crev
before?"
Evans glanced toward Kasner then turned back to me.
"Gordon, yes. But not this guy. 'Course he could have done it
before with another bunch,"
"Doing what?"
Evans turned his attention away from me and let my ques-
tion die a silent death as the truck shuddered to a halt. From
in front of us came the sound of moving vehicles and the
sassy purr of motor scooters passing by. A few horns honked
raucously' We had reached a major street intersection where
a signal light controlled tramc. Through the acrid odor of the
exhaust, the smell of the sea yas more pronounced.
When the truck started up again, it made a sweeping turn
to the left. A broad, well-lighted boulevard stretched out be-
hind us. ne driver kept well to the right on a wide, four-
lane thoroughfare bisected by a median strip. Tall standards
holding sodium vapor lights turned the grass and bushes
growing in the mid-strip a bluish-gray color.
At this time of early evening, tramc was dense. Carg of eve
ery style and nationality were lined up behind our slower
moving truck while a steady stream to the left passed by at
high speed. I couldn't make out much outside detail. Bright
lights in both lanes of trafic behind blinded me, but I could
See the interior of the truck without difficulty.
Jeorgos had seated himself up front again so he was di-
rectly opposite me. To my right, Kasner and Evans shared
the same side of the truck with Evans' large load next to
him. The man picked up at the airfield gate faced us,
but having examined us carefully, gave no indication of fur-
ther interest in our presence.
I knew the city of Athens well enough to realize that we
were still headed in the wrong direction to get to the central
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core and the nearby Athens Hilton hotel. The U.S. embassy
was only a stone's throw from the Hilton. The rickety truck
was moving east now, along the coastal road that led to the
ruins of the temple that perched on the high seaside cliffs at
Sounion. That was a good forty miles from where I expected
to go.
If it hadn't been for the two Greeks, whom I began to
think of as guards, I would have been tempted to leap out
over the tail gate and double back to my destination at my
own risk.
Another traffc light forced our driver to halt. The worn
brakes grabbed unevenly, throwing everyone in the rear of
the truck off balance. I pitched forward and bounced hard
against the cab. My first thought was for the delicate con-
tents of my carrying case. so I twisted sideways and took the
blow on my shoulder. The truck surged forward abruptly and
I rolled toward the center of the floor. My feet got tangled
up with Jeorgos'. I thought him unnecessarily rough when he
kicked free. When I turned my head with a complaint ready,
I saw him crouched with his carbine unslung and in his
hands. The muzzle was two feet from my face and only two
inches wide of my ear.
I spun around. A burly figure vaulted over the tailgate and
into the truck. It was a blur of a man wearing a Iamb's wool
cap, a loose-fitting vest over a dirty white shirt, and baggy
pants tucked into black, calfUhigh boots. Ihe invader moved
so rapidly it was difficult to guess his intentions. His agility
and sudden appearance caused additional confusion. When
the truck came to a final, shuddering stop, Jeorgos and the
new passenger faced each other like a pair of giadiators
about to engage.
I was caught in the middle.
Somewhere along the line, security had broken down.
Right here and right now, the mission I had been sent on was
about to go down the drain. At least, that's what I thought
until Jeorgos lowered his weapon and gave out a bellow of
welcome. A gruff and hearty response came from the silhou-
etted figure at the rear. I had to scramble out of the way as
the two friends came together with a bearlike, brotherly em-
brace.
The excited conversation following the back-slapping,
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joyous reunion ended as abruptly as it began. The booted
man conferred earnestly with Jeorgos and his sharp-faced
companion, who immediately rapped on the small window in
the rear of the driving cab. Gordon slid a portion of it to one
side and looked back.
I didn't like the look that came over Gordon's face, nor
the snatches of conversation in English that drifted back into
the interior of the truck. My original conclusion that our
movements had registered with the wounded guard at the
Hassani gate and had been reported by him were confirmed.
The imminence of danger was further indicated when Gor-
don turned back to the driver and spoke rapidly before. turn-
ing his head back to us. Kasner and Evans had moved up
close to the window, crowding against me;
"There's no real concern as far as I can tell," Gordon said,
"but we may have to get rid of this truck. More accurately,
we're going to abandon it. Vlarkas thinks we ought to go un-
derground instead of making a run for it." He nodded toward
the greek who knelt next to us.
I turned to look at the man named Vlarkas who had influ-
enced Gordon's decision. Vlarkas returned a stiff grin that
seemed forced and artificial. "It is best," he agreed in a voice
bearing a marked British accent that flavored his school-
bookish English. "Perhaps only for a short while. We must be
cautious."
Evans spoke up. "You got a hole we can jump into and
pull over us?" The youth didn't appear frightened. His voice
was steady, but he wanted assurances from Gordon.
"Well .
answered Gordon, dragging out the word in
such a way that it was pretty clear to me that this particular
contingency hadn't been covered in any pre-planning,
No. Not one of our own, anyway. There's a place out of
town, but no one anticipated that we'd run into this kind of
difficulty so soon after getting on the ground. There's a safe
house in Kifissia, but we'd have to backtrack, and Vlarkas
says that's out."
"Where's Kifissia?" Evans asked pointlessly.
I answered automatically when I should have kept quiet.
"It's north of the city about twelve miles. Itsits at the floor of
Mount Pentelli. You have to go through the main part of
Athens to get to it." I couldn't miss the questioning look Gor-
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don flashed at as if I wasn't supposed to know or reveal
my knowledge of the local area.
"So what's next on the agenda?" Kasner asked in a quiet
voice that showed more maturity and directness than Evans'
naive inquisitiveness.
"Stand by back there and be ready to evacuate on a mo-
ment's notice," Gordon replied: He then turned back as the
driver pulled ahead when the traffc moved.
Kasner and I helped Evans back into his harness. I adjust-
ed my waist holster to a more comfortable and accessible
position while hanging onto the side of the truck. I got a firm
grip on the rotor case. We all crowded toward the tailgate,
waiting for some signal from up front.
After two turns and a long run down a street parallel to
the main thoroughfare, we made a quick right turn followed
by another. From the rocking arhd shaking and the head-high
walls bordering the narrow lane, I could tell we were passing
through an unpaved alley,
We passed half a dozen back-yard gates. Then the truck
squealed to a halt. Gordon's voice called out: "This is it. Ev-
erybody out! The green door on the left side. Move it!
Quick!"
The truck pulled itself out from under me while T was still
poised on the tailgate to leap down. I'd stayed behind to help
Evans over the back end where Kasner waited to lend a
hand. The three Greeks faded away like shadows dispersed
by a strong light.
I urged Evans forward. It was slow going; his load
weighed at least seventy pounds. He wasn't strong enough to
carry it fast or far without feeling the strain. He was a good
sport, though. He accepted his task with little grumbling.
Evans was young enough to consider this unnecessary foul-up
as an adventure.
I couldn't make myself see it as anything but a disaster.
Once through the wooden door, we were in a small back
yard surrounded by thick walls that looked as if they were
coated with a layer of brown cement. The yard belonged to a
three-story house that must have once been a beautiful villa.
It was large enough to contain six or more bedrooms. It re-
minded me of the kinds of homes in America where, 'once
the wealthy owners died or moved away, they would be con-
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verted into a tourist home or boarding house. The rear wine
dows were hidden behind horizontal, shuttered blinds and the
interior lights gleåmed out through strips between the slats.
I trailed Evans across the uneven, stony ground while Gor-
don whispered urgently to hurry but make no noise. Evans
barely squeezed through the rear door with his wide pack.
The door led into the kitchen, an immense room by current
urban American standards of galley-sized kitchens. The floor
and part of the walls, from baseboard to a six-foot height,
were solid slab marble. The floor was a checkerboard pattern
of black and white marble squares. Wooden cabinets and
windows filled the walls. I guessed that an entire Boy Scout
jamboree could be served from this huge kitchen. I was still
taking it in when my attention was diverted and held by the
woman who walked into the room.
She had hair both the shape and color of a roaring bonfire.
It was flame-orange and piled up to a precarious peak above
a plump. painted face. Two small, but very merry eyes were
punched into her doughy-smooth countenance. The whiteness
of her features made her full. brilliantly red lips appear more
pronounced. She had a remarkable bosom which matched her
coiffure in size and prominence. Her stocky figure was roly-
polys but adequately subdued by a full-length, purple velvet
gown that was ornately embroidered with sparkling gold
thread. For some reason, possibly her deep-throated laugh
and dancing eyes, I thought of her as a displaced Mrs. Santa
Claus.
At the same time I knew that she'd never given away any-
thing free in her life. It took little imagination to recognize
the kind of life she'd led, and what position she held in the
profession now. took an exploratory inhalation, this time
sensing carefullv. The mixture of incense and perfume was
unmistakable. The presence of the dumpy, once-attractive
woman who was obviously in charge confirmed for me that
we'd taken refuge in a high-class brothel.
The madame spoke with a marked and titillating French
accent, What she said told me that she was well aware that
we had not entered her establishment for entertainment.
"You must not be seen, mes amis. The neighborhood, it is
very much alert. T think you are not quite so safe, but I shall
fix, n'est-ce pas? Into the basement .
quickly now. My
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girls, they are not about just now, so they will not see you,"
She was turning Kasner around and pushing him up against
Evans, urging both to go through a door leading to steps that
descended to the underground level.
"Can all of us find room down there?" asked Gordon.
"Oui, if you only stand .
but it is not for long, I hope.
You must be very quiet and do nothing until I call you.
Make no light. Hurry?'
basement was cool. Tt had a damp smell about it, as if
the plaster coating the foundation had not dried. It was clut-
tered with a collection of old furniture, crates. trunks, bed
springs, and other paraphernalia jammed together in such
confusion that there was barely room for us to crowd in.
I moved next to Gordon. "What happened to the Greeks?"
"They're all right. They blend into the background easily.
They'll probably go to the local taverna and sit at one of the
sidewalk tables drinking coffee where they can watch what's
going on. They'll be back when the coast is clear."
I couldn't help saying. "You put a lot of confidence in
them. Can you trust them?"
"T can. They come well recommended."
"By who?"
"By the same people who vouched for you and laid on this
trip."
It was past time for getting a few facts coordinated, so I
opened up. "I doubt if we were briefed by or are talking
about the same organization. If that were the case, I would
have been introduced to you sometime during the all-night
session I had before coming out to Andrews to get aboard
the aircraft. And right now, my private opinion is that if we
have to rely on that bunch back in Washington to keep us
out of trouble, we're no more protected than if this outing
were planned by eight-year-old school kids."
Gordon glared at me. "You don't have much faith in pro-
fessionals, do you?"
"I've never seen too many in the organization I assume
you're representing. In my mind, most of them are frustrated
administrators playing a game. They sit in walnut-paneled of-
fices worrying about how they can usurp someone else's au-
thority without having to accept the responsibility."
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That didn't go over too well with Gordon. "So you think
we're a bunch of rank amateurs?" he challenged.
It took some hard fist-clenching and tongue-biting to keep
from telling Gordon exactly what I did think at the moment.
AXE had been organized to make up for some of the defi-
ciencies prevalent in the CIA and, as a result, had inherited
the kinds of jobs thought to be too difficult or too dirty for
the Langley, Virginia types. By comparison. the tasks under-
taken by AXE Killmaster agents made the work of CIA field
personnel appear almost clerical in nature. In the course of
carrying out assignments, I'd had to cooperate.with CIA op-
eratives, but few grated me the way Gordon did,
I knew what Hawk would want mesto do: To back away
before I sounded off too much. Most of all he'd expect me to
keep mum. don't know enough about you to judge," T an-
swered Gordon. "But you ought to realize that I'm actually
here by default because I was impressed into this situation.
How I got here is pretty immaterial now. What I don't like is
the fix you've gotten us into which I suspect is the result of
less than professional planning."
Gordon turned his back to me, indicating the discussion wasjf
closed, but over his shoulder he muttered. "YVhen we get
back you can complain to your congressman."
I tried for the last word, "If we do get back, I intend to do
just that unless I find he's one your agency has locked up in
its hip pocket."
brought Gordon around. He faced me with eyes flash-
ing, his hands doubled into fists. He looked as if he was about
to plow into me, which would have been a grave mistake.
There are few forms of hand-to-hand combat unknown to
the tough-trained N corps of AXE. When it comes to self-de-
fense, I'm both capable and confident of holding my own. es-
pecialiy against those who misjudge my reluctance to fight as
a lack of courage or competence. I avoid violence whenever
possible, but once forced into a. test of arms, I expect no
quarter and give none.
Gordon didn't carry through his silent threat. Instead, he
tilted his head to look above and behind me. Vlarkas was
coming down the stairs noiselessly, watching expectantly for
Gordon and me to start slugging one another. From the
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Sneer on his thin face, I guessed he wouldn't care which one
Of us won. He probably hoped he'd witness a bloody draw.
"Is it okay to move out now?" Gordon asked expectantly.
"Quite the contrary, I'm afraid,'? Vlarkas replied with
clipped tones. "For some reason, the search is closing in on
this area."
"I can't understand it," said Gordon. "How did anyone get
onto us?"
"It was the guard at the gate," I supplied. "I'm sure he got
a good look at the truck."
Gordon stormed at Vlarkas. "It was your job to handle the
guard and take him out—permanently if necessary!"
Vlarkas shrugged his shoulders. "He was unconscious. I
made sure of that before I waved the truck through the first
time."
Gordon faced me. "You're sure you're not mistaken?"
I looked directly at Vlarkas when I answered. "I didn't
make a mistake."
S VThen why in the hell didn't you tell me, Carter?" Gordon
shouted. "We should have made certain that the guard
wÖuldn't be able to talk."
"Jeorgos tried," I pointed out. "Ask him. And you might
remember that, at the time, I didn't have the vaguest idea of
what was going on. I still don't, except it looks like you've
gotten us into a box that's growing smaller by the minute. I
think we all ought to split up and take our chances individu-
ally."
"Like hell we wfll!" blasted Gordon. "We've got to stick
together and as long as I'm in charge, you're going to do as I
say!"
Vlarkas stepped between us. He was wearing the look of a
man enjoying the confrontation, but his warning words were
sound ones. "Instead of arguing the point, it might be best if
we took to the streets right now."
I agreed, although with reservation. "What other choice do
we have?"
"Very little, I'd say," the grinning Greek replied. "Not as
long as you stay here. The best course is to make a run out
back, then get on the boulevard and mingle with any crowd.
You should walk past the Agredon kafenio every ten minutes
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or so. One of us will let you know when it's safe to reassem-
ble. "
"'What about my equipment?" asked Evans.
"Leave it here," suggested Vlarkas.
"It's hardly likely it
would be recognized as being different from the other goods
stored here, especially if you should smear a little dirt on it."
Gordon agreed. "He's right. No one would link it to us.
And Carter, you can do the same with your bag."
"I'd rather not."
"Well, I'm not asking your opinion," snapped Gordon.
"Bury that bag somewhere in this mess. If they nab you, at
least the important part of your contribution will still be
available and on tap, so I'm telling you to dump it now."
There was little doubt that Gordon put a bigger premium
on my carrying case than he did on me, and although I didn't
like being upstaged by a set of plastic rotors, I had to admit
he was right. I eased past Kasner to find a hiding place for
the bag among the debris in the untidy basement.
While Evans was doing the same thing with his pack,
Kasner commented in a calm voice, "Could we get moving? I
don't like what I've heard about Greek jails. Is the situation
critical enough to consider a recall action?"
"Not yet!" barked Gordon. "This may not be asr bad as
we're making it out to be. But there's no point in just stand-
ing here. We'd better do as Vlarkas suggests. Come on. Out
the back way!"
I waited for Evans to go ahead, then raced up the stairs
after him. I was the last one through the kitchen and out the
rear door. Gordon was opening the alley access door when a
shutter on a second floor window of the house clattered open.
The flame-crowned Frenchwoman screeched, "Back! You
must come back. "Ihe gendarmes they are in the alley
now. Back into the house! It is the only safe place!"
Gordon could make instantaneous decisions when needed.
He pushed and herded us back across the yard and into the
kitchen once more. The red-headed madame greeted us,
standing with the basement door open. "Hide among the bag-
gage. There are many places," she advised. She pushed Gor-
don, Evans, and Kasner downstairs. She deflected Vlarkas
into another room, then blocked my passage with a stout arm
across the doorways
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"No more, ami," she warned. "Only three can hide down
there safely. Believe me, Madame L'Este knows." The way
she rolled her name out of her cupid's bow mouth, it sounded
obscene.
must," I insisted. "%ere is something down there that I
must guard with my life."
"No time now. None at all. You must do as I say or all
will be discovered, Go, or I will have to say you forced your
way inside and expose you. Trust me, Yank. You will have a
better hiding place than the others."
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CHAPTER SIX
The buxom Woman clapped her fleshy hands. In response, a
slim, dark-skinned girl with a page-boy hairdo pattered barc-
foot down the hall. Most striking were her large, luminous
eyes heavily made-up with iridescent blue and green eye
shadow. They gave her heart-shaped face a bizarre theatrical
look one might see among the cast at an amateur stage per-
formance of Anthony and Cleopatra. She wore what was
someone's interpretation of an ancient Egyptian courtesan's
costume, designed to accentuate the most enticing parts of
her supple body.
I wondered if she'd ever heard of Nefertiti, the Nubian
beauty who might have been the inspiration for her
masquerade.
The scantily-dressed girl who listened nervously while the
rapidly-speaking Frenchwoman gave instruction couldn't have
been more than fifteen years old. But she had the old, bold
eyes of experience, which quickly measured me before she
grasped my hand and drew me toward the stairs. She doubled
her pace to a trot when an explosive command from her Pa-
risian employer split the air like a bolt of lightning. I had to
take the stairs two at a time to keep up.
Halfway down a hall lined on either side with closed doors,
the quasi-reincarnation of the famous Egyptian queen stopped
beside one and gestured for me to enter. I hesitated long
enough for her to become alarmed at my inaction. She made
her point clear by urging me inside with repeated shoves
aäainst my back.
If I had been mistaken about the fabulous villa and its pur-
pose before, the bedroom erased. all doubt. Frilled to gaud-
iness, it was surfeited with an abundant scent of lavender,
and lavender was the entire color scheme of the room. Car-
peting, window drapes, upholstery, and wallpaper—all were
various shades of purple. Violet, lilac, damson, orchid, and
heliotrope overwhelmed the room.
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Dominating the far wall flanked on either side by tall
French doors overlooking the street was the main item of
furniture: a bigger than king-sized, four-poster bed. It was
turned down and ready for -use. It didn't surprise me at all to
see that the sheets were shiny satin and lavender in color.
The ceiling was covered with wall-to-wall squares of laven-
der-tinted mirror glued in place like acoustical tile.
An extended, three-panel folding screen stood to one side
Of the bed. Behind it was an open door leading to a pink
marble bathroom. Against the wall opposite the foot of the
bed was a low dressing table with a broad, upright mirror at-
tached. Filling the remainder of the trysting place was a dou-
ble-size chaise lounge whose cushions were j covered with
large, purple-hued floral print fabric.
The room was designed solely for business—the business of
providing erotic pleasure. Apart from the small, compact
bathroom, no other ante-rooms or closets existed. It was a
hell of a place to put someone looking for a place to hide.
I hurried to the left-hand set of double French doors. They
were unlocked and swung open easily. The commotion in the
street struck me before I became aware of the coolness of
the night air and the salty smell of the nearby bay. A two-
foot wide step, enclosed by a waist-high iron railing, extended
beyond the doors. The tiny balcony was more for architec-
tural adornment than functional use. I looked down at the
street.
Pairs of uniformed men carrying unslung rifles were mov-
ing up both sides of the street, entering each doorway as they
came to it. An offciaMooking car was parked crosswise at
the lower end of the block. A human barricade of three sol-
diers guarded the opposite corner.
There was no way out. It would be only a matter of time
before a two-man patrol stormed into the villa and conducted
a room-to-room search. I realized the hopelessness of trying
to pass myself off as anything but what I obviously
confused and out-of-place American. If I opened my mouth
to speak, my atrocious accent would give me away instantly.
I couldn't help but stick out like a ripe olive trying to disguise
itself as a raisin in a bowl of rice pudding.
The miniature balcony suggested an escape path, but only
if' I went up. I stuck my head outside. No more than four
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feet above the top of the doors was the roof overhang. At-
tached to it was a rain gutter. It looked to be of heavy metal
and firmly anchored in place. All I needed was a chair to
stand on. That, plus a chance to hoist myself up onto the
roof without being seen. .Once there, I could belly-crawl up
the tiles to reach the back slope of the roof away from the
street. could hide there until the search was called off.
The dressing table bench would make a two-foot platform.
Even as I turned back to get it, my better judgment told me
that that trick was going to be a loser, too. The empty bench
on the narrow balcony would be mute evidence that it had
been used for just the purpose I had in mind. I'd be trapped
on the roof instead of in the bedroom.
I turned around quickly and had taken the first step to
leave the room with no useful goal in doing so except to get
. clear of this cul-de-sac and probably find myself in another,
when the hall door burst open without warning. I stopped
dead in my tracks.
The intruder would have bad the same singular effect upon
me no matter under what circumstances we might have met.
The unexpected visitor was a tall, big-boned young wom4n
with long, black hair and a full, wide mouth that was set in a
firm, determhed line. She moved rapidly, quickly closing the
door behind her.
While her striking beauty stopped me cold, whatever she
saw from her rapid scan of me didn't divert her from what
she intended to do. She brushed past me and went to the
French door I had opened. Her walk was purposeful—
smooth and flowing with coordinated grace. In some ways,
partcularly the up-tilt of her chin, her bearing was haughty
if not regal. The thrust of ber breasts, unencumbered by
bindings, was something to behold.
From the rear, her long legs tapered up to a firm, gently
oscillating •bottom which would have been wasted on a less
aristocratic woman. She wore a simple, sleeveless white dress
cut with a deep, rounded neckline so fully one-half of both
her front and back were exposed. She wore no stockings. I
wondered if she applied a special lotion to give her smoothly
tanned skin that unusual olive cast.
She said nothing, but I guessed her to be Greek. She had
the characteristic full cheeks, rounded arms and shoulders,
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and the generous female accessories that mark early-matured
Greek women. Between ages eighteen and twenty-five they
are lovely. Ten years later they can become slobs, having
added as much as five pounds each year, Fat women are sup-
posedly preferred by Greek men, but I've never seen one of
any age that didn't have an eye for slim ones as well.
I remained rooted in place two steps away from where the
girl was leaning over the balustrade. She suddenly straight-
ened up and spun around. time her impassive face eased
into a barely perceptible smile. It was much like the look a
sympathetic child would give an injured insect before step-
ping on it.
Noises from immediatelv below flowed up to the bedroom.
The front door squeaked. There followed a loud exchange of
voices. Two were male. The third I recognized as belonging
to Madam LSEste.
"Thev will be up here very soon," the girl said in almost
perfect English. Her husky voice was pitched one level above
that of a man who would sing baritone. "Take off your
clothes and get into the bed!"
Her words were a commänd, not an invitation. I just stood
there a few seconds. Part of my immobility was caused by
the unmistakably amused smile that suddenly wreathed the
girl's face. Her even teeth stood out remarkably white against
her olive-brown complexion.
"You understand me, don't you?" she said. "Undress and
get into bed. Your best camouflage is for you to look like
you belong here." As she explained, she kicked off one shoe
and then the other. Then she reached down cross-handed and
gabbed two fistsful of skirt. As she drew it up over her head,
her muffed voice said, "You must hurry. There is little time."
I was still standing gape-mouthed when she tossed her
dress over the top of the screen by the bed. She was wearing
a clinging nylon slip that might as well not have been on her
at all.
Women have offered themselves to me before with little
urging on my part, but in every other circumstance we
were something less than complete strangers. This situation
was so far out that my reaction was equally unique, My
mouth went dry. I tried to swallow. The last time I felt like
this I was seven years old, staring bug-eyed at a shameless
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nine-year old girt who lifted the front of her pinafore to re-
veal lace-trimmed panties.
The girl's smile faded. She was grimly serious now. She
stepped over to me. Her hands began working at my belt
buckle. I backed away. A second later, she brushed past me
to, lean over the balcony once more. After a downward
glance, she rushed back. "Hurry or you will bring disaster to
everyone!" She whispered the words with a hissing urgency.
I stripped so fast that I tore a shoulder seam of my shirt. I
detached Hugo and clamped it together with Wilhelmina and
rolled* both in my shirt before I jammed it under the bed.
Needle naked, I dived into the bed so fast that I almost skid-
ded out the opposite side because of the slick satin sheets. I
struggled back to the sound of heavy footsteps clumping
along the hallway.
The girl had removed her slip and was sliding into the bed
as I pushed myself back toward its center. Our bodies came
together with a fleshy slap. Hers was warm and soft. Mine
felt cold by comparison. I concentrated on the noises outside
the room. Doors in the hallway were being opened and
closed. High-pitched female voices were remonstrating; gruff
male voices were cutting them off.
A door slammed directly across the hall. In a moment, a
rifle-ready soldier was going to find me wide-eyed and frozen,
laying stretched out fiat next to a lovely, voluptuous prosti-
tute and looking more like a stiff in a morgue than an aroused,
passionate lover.
The bedroom door rattled. At the sound, the girl demon-
strated she had more strength than her soft arms appeared to
possess. She shoved a hand under my back, rolling me over
and upward far enough to slide herself under me. I buried
my face in her loose, perfumed hair. She folded her arms
around my neck and brought her knees up on either side of
my hips.
A great many unexpected things have happened to me.
Few could compare to this unlikely situation. If ever a man
was left halfway between heaven and hell, I was poised at
that point at this moment. Behind me were soldiers, possibly
with orders to kill on sight. In front of me—under me, to be
precise—was a sensuous, warm-skinned woman, her naked
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flesh pressed to mine. If a man had been granted the ultimate
request before execution—which could be my fate in an in-
stant—l was close to experiencing the perfect fulfillment.
I heard the bedroom door bang back against the wall, As
quickly as she had squeezed under me, the girl sprang out of
the bed, throwing the top sheet back over me. She stook na-
ked and spread-legged before the two surprised soldiers, her
fisted hands propped on her faring hips. Her voice was a
shrewish screech. Harsh invectives poured out at the soldiers
in a steady, turbulent stream. It seemed as though she would
never run out of breath. She screamed at them so fast I
could understand almost none of what she said. Her firm,
rounded buttocks jiggled with each piercing phrase she spat
out at them.
I lay absolutely still with my face half-buried in the pillow
and with the sheet drawn to screen my entire head. With one
uncovered eye I observed the girl's stunning performance.
She took a threatening step forward, now waving her hands.
The soldiers retreated into the hallway.
The nude girl raised a leg and kicked the door closed with
her bare foot. The door struck the jamb so hard it bounced
open again. She turned around and backed into it, this time
making certain that the latch caught. Her beautifully rounded
and firm breasts heaved from the exertion, but she was
smiling in triumph.
When she saw my frank, admiring stare, she stoooed
slightly, turning foneard her shoulders and stretching her
hands down in front of her. It was an unusual display of
modesty for a practiced professional. She took a quick step
to get back to the bed. She hesitated a moment, sitting with
her smooth, bare back to me and cocking her head to catch
every sound. After deciding something to her satikfaction, she
lay down, her body now a few inches from mine. Her antici-
pation was quick and her aim unerring by capturing and
firmly holding my hand that reached around her:
"It is finished, I think,"
she whispered. "I am almost cer-
tain that they believed me, but we must wait and be ready in
case they return."
I was just about ready
whether we had company or not.
at them sure drove them off." I
" Mthatever you screamed
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pressured a little more with the hand she held. She refused to
let it go.
"Among other things, I told them that you were an impor-
tant Greek government official who would see to it that they
would be severely punished if they attempted to discover
your identity."
"You're as smart as you are beautiful," I replied, this time
intentionally steering the conversation toward a goal that was
beginning to dominate my thinking. I slid closer, fitting my-
self up against her back. I thought I detected a flush of
awareness as I prodded her. Her leg moved receptively when
our bodies touched.
"Keep quiet now," she warned. "We must not be heard to
be speaking English,"
It's not simple to lie in bed with your forearm resting on
the enticing swell of a woman's belly and your hand nested in
soft pubic hair. Her nearness to me and the relief of escape
was inspiring some basic reactions. I could feel the desire
growing in my groin. "I don't think I can stand this much
longer," I confessed. "I'm not made of stone; you know."
The girl inched away from my touch. '*Part of you seems
to be," she whispered. Her breathing was still faster than nor-
mal, but no longer because of her recent tirade. She was be-
coming aroused, too. When my free hand slid over the apex
Of one breast, I found the nipple erect and responsive. She
shuddered uncontrollably.
She pushed my wandering hand behind her and slithered
out of the bed with a flash of sleek buttocks. With a sweeping
motion of her hand she scooped up her shoes and slip and dis-
appeared behind the screen. Her voice, purposely kept low,
was masked by street sounds. "They will not be back now.
They would not dare. We are safe for the present."
Across the room I saw movement and realized it was the
girl's reflection in the dressing table mirror. The angle was
just right for me to see her behind the screen. She dressed
quickly, using smooth, effcient movements. When she
glanced up and saw me watching in the mirror, she reddened.
"Stay here in this room until you are given word that all is
clear."
She dashed to the door, her glistening hair flying.
"Hey! Wait. Who—?" 1 called after her.
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She glanced over her shoulder as she stepped into the hall.
The look on her face was unforgettable.
It was elfin—part awe from sudden awareness of her own
desire—and partly a teasing pout that was full of promise.
Her look left me restlessly warm and totally frustrated.
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CHAPTER SEVEN
After the door closed, the bed sheets retained the girl's
warmth and lingering scent. It took a moment for me to re-
linquish the daydream quality of what had happened. The
cold, cruel world of reality could not be denied.
Sounds continued to drift up from the street. squads
of searching soldiers were moving on to other houses.
I began dressing. I was down on my hands and knees re-
trieving my weapons-stuffed shirt when the door opened
again.
"You are to come down the stairs at once." Madame
VEste's face seemed a little pale under her rosy make-up.
She held an upraised finger to her lips. "Make no noise. Say
nothing."
VVhen I got into the corridor, the chubby Frenchwoman
had already descended the stairs. I went along the hallway
quietly, still tucking in my shirt tails. I passed an open door-
way. Inside the room was a girl dressed in a hot pants ver-
Sion of a buckskin-clad American Indian princess. ne tight-
fitting fringed shorts and bikini top could have been made
from a single prairie dog pelt. A feather sticking up from a
beaded headband added the final touch. Sbe was probably
booked as Pocahontas in Madame L'Este'3 house of historical
whores.
At the bottom of the curving stairway I wag ushered into a
side room by the waiting Parisian bawd. "Wait in here," she
directed, then walked away quickly.
ne room was furnished as a lounge. Along one wan was a
marble-topped bar with a mirrored recess behind it which
held well-stocked shelves of liquor. In the mirror I saw my
tousle-haired reflection looking back at me.
I went to a shuttered window at the back of the mom and
peered through the narrow space between two slats. There
was nothing but darkness outside.
The sound of approaching footsteps spun me around.
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Kasner hurried through the door. His face was beaded with
perspiration. I took it to be his reaction to being confined in
the stuffy basement or being shaken by our recent close call.
He impressed me as the type who hadn't done this very often
and wasn't accustomed to razor-edged situations.
"Where are the others?" I asked.
"Gordon and Evans went off with that beak-nosed Greek,
Vlarkas. They slipped out the back way."
"When'll they be back?"
"Gordon didn't say anything about coming back."
"Well, that's a hell of a •note. You mean he's dumped us
and run off to save his own hide?"
"He didn't take time to explain. He was in a hurry."
In a way, I wasn't surprised, but that didn't keep me from
being angry. Gordon was the kind who could easily convince
himself that his job was far more important than any individ-
ual involved in it. He acted like a man indoctrinated in the
'duty-above-self' school. Under that precept, people could be
made sacrificial offerings on the altar of mission succe8s.
Anyone, including the leader, was expendable.
Those traditional rules, however, had been revised over the
years so that now the leader could eject to be the last one to
go. So it was no longer a truly democratic concept where ev-
eryqne accepted an equal chance. The man who headed the
team was given an extra edge. He was allowed to step on
others to save his own ass.
Gordon had run out, leaving Kasner and myself to fend
for ourselves. And he'd grabbed up the only knowledgeable
native which, to me, was akin to the captain of a sinking ship
commandeering the only life preserver and leaving the an-
chor for the rest of the crew. I wondered if Gordon had left
behind any kind of farewell message.
"What are we supposed to do?" I asked.
"I don't know." Kasner had the look of a man ready to
surrender.
"Gordon didn't tell you anything?"
"Only that I was to stay here and tell you to do the same."
It sounded as though we had been deliberately steered into
a dead end. could be a goddamned setup," I growled,
'Sleaving you and me sitting here like patsies while Gordon
gets clear."
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"He took Evans," Kasner reminded me.
The answer to that was easy. Gordon could leave people
behind, but not expensive drugs. Evans could serve a useful
purpose as a beast of burden. That line of reasoning led to a
conclusion that struck me with a horrendous impact. "They
took Evans' harness pack with them, didn't they?"
"Yes."
"And my bag, too," I said, knowing exactly what the an.
swer would be.
"That, too," confirmed Kasner.
S 'That sonofabitch!" I muttered. Gordon's precipitous ace
tion automatically made me responsible for an irrevocable
breach of security. I had allowed the case entrusted to me to
leave my possession. It, was now in unauthorized hands.
When it was opened, the self-activating explosive lining
would turn the rotors into charred and melted globs of
phenol-metal alloy mixed with re-hardened droplets of copper
wiring. The irrecoverable loss would be laid squarely at my
feet.
My slate in AXE wasn't completely clean of errors, but
none had ever been so blatant and foolish as this blunder.
Not only that, but when the incident was eventually made
known in Washington, every agency in town was going to
pass the buck for responsibility, and it would end up on
Hawk's desk. He'd have no choice but to hang my hide out
to dry, and my personal agony would be only one aspect of
the unhöly uproar. Every competing agency in the intelli-
gence game would take advantage of an unconscionable secu-
rity breakdown within AXE.
They would, because all practiced the art of sitting around
in high political branches of the government tree searching
buzzard-eyed for any weakness or fiaw they could exploit in a
rival organization. The brutal take-over game was played
with a minimum of sportsmanship rules.
My anger at Gordon and myself was interrupted by the ar-
rival of Jeorgos. lanky Greek's cap touched the top of
the door frame when he entered the room. He overshadowed
the girl who followed behind him.
With her in my view, the tall Greek faded into invisibility.
I could only stare at •the girl once more—at a woman who
had left me with a parched throat and unspent readiness.
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Her eyes deliberately avoided mine. She spoke, looking at
Kasner. "There is no immediate need to he concerned. We
will join your friends shortly." Her voice was all business,
with clipped, mannish tones.
She had changed clothes. The knee-length wool skirt of
dark color contrasted with the long-sleeved, white blouse
which had delicate embroidery on the cuffs and around the
choke collar. Over it she wore a hip-length, lambskin vest
belted around the middle. Attached to the cestus was a black
leather scabbard holding a foot-long knife with an ornate, sil-
ver inlay handle. A babushka covered most of her hair. Her
feet were encased in calf-high boots.
My face must have shown my amazement at the discovery
that this attractive girl was not the bold woman of pleasure
she had led me to think she was. At first I was chagrined at
having been taken in by her ruse. But her cleverness had not
only fooled me, but had misled the soldieis as well. I had
been saved by her inventive, risqué exhibition, which only a
quick-thinking woman with no small amount of acting ability
could have pulled off.
She couldn't fail to notice my open admiration when I
broke into a smile and asked, "Who are you?"
She looked at me, defiantly at first, then her eyes softened.
She smiled too. "l am not what perhaps you think I am."
"I know that now," I replied. "I understand, and thanks."
She reiterated her point. "I do not belong here any more
than you do. My name—it is Marika Forlakis."
I liked the way it rolled off her lips. I repeated it. "Marika
Forlakis." My Yankee accent didn't do it justice.
"The name would mean something to you if you were
Greek," she explained. "But it is not a name that can be spo-
ken freely anymore." Her large, dark eyes flashed proudly.
"You can help us?" I suggested.
"It is 'not wise to ask too many questions," she replied.
"All you must know is that we choose to, give our aid to your
small group of Americans."
"Our help? You're in this?"
She reached out and laid a hand on Jeorgos' forearm.
and some others with the same purpose.
"Jeorgos and I
We do what we can."
The way I was staring at her caused her to drop her eyes
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demurely, but only after she had consciously erased the smile
from her face, She must have felt the same momentary flush
of embarrassment that I did, It was unique for me because it
was strangely like the emotions only innocents have—and I
had stopped being that shortly after entering high school.
Marika must have thought my quizzical gaze came from
remembering how she looked standing before two startled
soldiers who had enjoyed her shapely nudity even while being
castigated by her vitriolic tongue, Hypnotized by her beauty,
it was no wonder they never thought to give a single glance
at the man in her bed. The Loch Ness monster could have
been curled up at their feet and they wouldn't have noticed.
"Wait here," Marika said. "Jeorgos will watch. I will be
back directly." After speaking briefly to Jeorgos, she turned
and strode off, her skirt swirling behind her.
Jeorgos stationed himself in the doorway. His casual stance
belied his alertness. His steely eyes remained riveted on
Kasner and myself.
I drew the white-haired, studious man to one side. His spire
its had revived 'somewhat.
"I didn't imagine Gordon would
abandon us," he said as if admitting to a distasteful conclu-
sion.
'*Someone has got to know what's going on," I complained.
"Tell me, what's happening?"
"l told you I don't know."
don't mean only now. What's the object of this whole eV
ercise? What are you doing here in Greece? What's Gordon
got in mind?"
Kasner peered at me as if T had accused him of bed wet-
ting. He contemplated me moment. 4' You're serious?
You haven't been told anything?"
"Hell, yes," I replied quickly to prevent him from thinking
I was such an outsider that he wouldn't dare talk to me. "I
know why 1 made the trip in such a hurry. I've been given a
special assignment."
"Well then, you should know as much as the rest of us."
"I was briefed, all right, but not entirely on what you and
Evans and Gordon are planning to do. Just my part. What's
going on?"
"You're inconsistent, Carter." Kasner eyed me suspiciously.
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'First you say you've been told what to do, then you ask me
to tell you what we're here for. You sound like some sort of
prying security officer. You can't expect me to believe that
you don't know what we are to do. One of those things was
to keep what we were told strictly to ourselves. Presumably,
only Gordon knows how our individual assignments all dove-
tail."
"Well, someone besides Gordon knows a lot more than ei-
ther you or I do. That someone blew the whistle on us long
before we got within miles of Athens. That's why we had to
resort to that razzle-dazzle, ground-level bail-out at the air-
port. Even that didn't get us completely in the clear. There's
a finger man bugging us who doesn't intend for us to be run-
ning around loose for very long."
"Now that you put it that way—
"WPhat other way is there to look at it?" cut in. Whatever
Kasner was. he certainly had never been exposed to a near-
panic situation. He acted more like a bewildered somnambu-
list than a hunted man. If I could wake him up to the
danger, I might be able to get some worthwhile information
from him. "Do you have any idea what it would be like to
spend a dozen years in a Greek jail? That could happen. You
don't seem to realize that you no longer have a passport, and
that makes you an illegal entrant. You are also an accom-
plice to attacking and perhaps killing an armed sentry. With-
out a passport and no plausible explanation why you are
here, you've got less than a leg to stand on. With Gordon
gone, there's no one to substantiate whatever story you've
been told to give in an emergency situation—and that's ex-
actly what we're in at this very moment."
"You don't think that Greek girl, Marika—I' Kasner let his
voice run down to silence.
I wasn't too sure of anyone, but if I had to make a choice,
Marika got my vote for reliability. I made my reply open-end-
ed. "We don't know any of these people. At least I didn't
expect to meet up with them. I think this whole fiasco is a
bust and Gordon hightailed it out on his own. We might as
well admit that this situation has jumped the track and what-
ever Gordon's doing now he's doing from sheer desperation.
We're on the run, man. Don't you understand that?"
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"But, Gordon said—
"Screw Gordon," I snapped, hoping to shock some life into
Kasner's dull eyes. "Whatever has happened, it's left us out in
the cold and we only have one chance of saving ourselves.
I'm not going to sit here on my ass and wait for the Greek
Army or Athens Police to move in and swallow me up. I'm
going to get some help. H
"But, Marika said---" He began and then stopped, anticipate
ing another interruption.
I was about to snap, "Screw Marika, too," when it occurred
to me that I'd been as close to that as any man was likely
to get. I couldn't suppress a smile. That made an impression
on Kasner.
"Good God, man, how can you laugh at a time like this?
One minute you're the voice of doom and the next you're
grinning like a gargoyle."
"I'm sorry. There's one aspect of this master foul-up that
strikes me as being amusing."
"Well, if you see a cheerful element in our plight, tell me."
"There isn't. I'm sorry." A man like Kasner wouldn't ap-
preciate the irony of my initial meeting with Marika.
The change in Kasner persisted. He started thinking on his
own. "What you said about prior knowledge of our arrival
seems to be verified by subsequent actions, but there's an-
other possibility."
"What's that?"
"Those enlisted men who came along-—they were going to
go through Greek customs for us. It was laid on that way so
that the ' number of disembarking passengers would agree
with the plane's doctored manifest. Each enlisted man took
on a false identity to represent the four of us. One of them
could have been tripped up by an alert customs man."
I felt the pockets of my jacket. My passport was missing.
Gordon had confiscated it while I slept. "Run that through
again for me," I said.
Mihile Kasner repeated the details of the plan for using en-
listed men as decoys, I superimposed my own interpretation
of what had happened. It didn't have to be a Greek customs
omcial that uncovered the switch. More likely, it was a prop-
erly cleared and conscientious employee of the US. State De-
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partment waiting in the air terminal lobby to escort me and
the valuable cipher key rotors through town to the embassy.
When some G.I. carrying the passport of Nick Carter was
discovered not to have the all-impor'tant rotor case with him,
a security alarm of such gigantic proportions was sounded
that the repercussions were undoubtedly already rocking the
triple-basemented NSA building from its impervious, con-
crete-shielded, slab-steel foundation.
I tried to shake off the catastrophic vision my imagination
had concocted, but I couldn't dismiss the fact that many
parts of this crazy jig-saw puzzle just didn't fit. For one:
when I was back at the NSA headquarters, Theo Cole hadn't
told me that a substitute would be going down the boarding
Steps in Athens in my place. Nor had he suggested that I
might have to leave the plane over a rumbling wing surface
and tumble into a creaking truck.
As the pieces fell together, I couldn't deny the obvious:
somewhere along the way I had been shunted from the
planned purpose of my journey. I had gotten linked up with a
bunch of mismatched infiltrators making a surreptitious entry
into a country which had mixed opinions about U.S. objec-
tives in the Mediterranean, Whatever their mission, it wasn't
supposed to be known by the Greeks. And it wasn't supposed
to include me.
The Greeks weren't the only ones who would be looking
for me. By now, the American embassy security chief would
have pulled out all stops because a classified courier with
unique cipher machine rotors was on the loose without proper
protection. He could also surmise that I was a potential de-
fector. All security men are carefully conditioned to think the
worst of everyone.
And it wouldn't take long before the news of my unknown
whereabouts would get to another embassy member, this one
wearing the guise of a cultural attaché, or possibly that of an
assistant protocol officer. This official would easily put two
and two together and realize that the carefully selected un-
dercover team chosen by the Washington CIA staff had an
imposter in its midst-—the missing cour'ier.
The only conclusion Washington could reach was that the
hastily planned CLA operation was now doomed to failure.
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Worse yet, it would not take 16ng before someone—through
a fluke or damned good intelligence work—learned that the
odd-ball member of the team in Greece was N3 of AXE.
Never mind what would happen to me; that would be a slap
on the wrist compared to the charges that would be levied
against David Hawk. How could he explain that he had not
purposely ordered a Killmaster to infiltrate a covert CIA ef-
fort in order to sabotage it?
This ill-fated mission—whatever its purpose—and everyone
connected with it was going down the drain fast. I wondered
who the lucky guy was—the guy who had missed the plane
and who Gordon had assumed I was. And I wondered what
his specialty was.
Much as I hated to cut the ground out from under Gordon
without him knowing it, there was no point in letting the er-
ror multiply. The only way it could be halted was by making
a call to the embassy. If I could get through to the right peo-
ple soon enough, a plug might be inserted into the runaway
situation. But it would take somedoing.
Chances were that Gordon and company would be written
off entirely, anyway. When the inevitable confrontation with
the Greeks came about, American officials would be forced
to deny any knowledge of the people involved or their pur-
pose for being in the country. Tnat was defeatist thinking,
but there was little cause for optimism, At best, there might
be some contingency options that included an emergency es•
cape procedure.
Madame L'Este's brothel might be the first rung of the
ladder. My thinking was directed that way because my own
foot was jammed in the trap. My better judgment told me
that once a deal was blown as badly as this one was, it bee
came every man for himself.
It was time for me to make a personal bid for self-sur-
vival.
I remembered seeing a telephone on the wall of the
kitchen we had come through. I took three steps toward the
door. With each step, Jeorgos inched up from his leaning
position against the door frame. He was fully upright and
well braced when I reached him. The doubtful look on his
face included a sad, apologetic smile. He shook his head to
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let me know his instructions and my apparent intentions were
in direct conflict.
"I've got to get by,"' I said. In my stocking feet I'm
shade over six feet and carry about 185 pounds, so big men
don't normally scare me. Jeorgos didn't either, but there was
a challenging twinkle in his eyes that showed his willingness
to pit his strength and skill against mine. I looked up into
those eyes, at least six inches above mine. The twenty fewer
years I had on him in age didn't seem to be a great advan-
tage. "I want to call the American embassy," I explained.
The tall, rugged Greek shook his head again. "American
embassy," I repeated again in Greek. Jeorgos' determined
smile only grew a bit wider.
There was only one way to go. I tried it. I advanced the
last step and butted a shöulder into his armpit trying to force
my way past. He let out a tremendous snort that blew the
smite off his face. I drove a short left jab into his ribs,
enough to hurt but do no damage. I had no intention of actu-
ally harming the stubborn Greek. The blow twisted bim side-
ways, enough for me to get halfway through the door.
It was a mistake to try to squeeze into the space controlled
by Jeorgos. He pinned my right arm under his and locked the
wrist on my left hand in a huge fist. Then he began leaning
against me. He pressed me against the door frame with such
force I thought he intended to split me in two. I smelled
strong exhalations of his garlic breath as he pressured tightly
against me.
He forced the wind out of me, compressing my lungs until
not a single cubic centimeter of air was left inside. I could
feel my ribs bending. My vision was swimming. A series of
gray layers was dropping over my eyes when I involuntarily
sucked in a fast, deep breath. Jeorgos had thrust me aside
like a discarded rag doll.
I staggered and would have fallen if Kasner hadn't support*
ed me. '"Ihat man's a monster!" Kasner exclaimed.
I barely heard what he said, but welcomed. Kasner's steer-.
ing me to a chair, where I flopped down and slowly regained
my senses. The •booming noise I heard was Jeorgos' voice. I
couldn't grasp enough of the rapid string of Greek words to
understand, but his tone was solicitous.
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"He says he's sorry," translated Kasner. "He was told by
Marika to see that weremained here until she gets back."
I looked up at the leathery-faced man. "You understand
the language that well?"
s TO some degree," he replied. "Greek's not my field. I spee
cialize in Russian and the Slavic languages. I've also done
some work in the Scandinavian tongues. Once you acquire an
ear for foreign languages, almost any come fairly easy. I've
done only minor investigations of Greek as a basis for other
languages."
"You're a linguist then?" The room had stopped shimmer-
ing.
"Yes," Kasner replied with unconcealed pride.
'That's why you were brought along?"
'There's no use denying it now, I guess. I don't have any
other talent to contribute to this assignment."
"What assignment?" I tried again.
"You still don't believe me, do you? I really don't know."
"But you must have some idea why a person with a wide
range of language ability wag included."
"If I accept what you say about us being abandoned by
Gordon, I doubt if I'll have an opportunity to put it to use. If
you're wrong, I 'II eventually converse with someone we're to
contact whose language is either Russian or Serbo-Croatian."
"What else?"
'Vnat's it. Nothing more specific. Not even what we're ex-
pected to talk about. I presume Gordon has those instruc-
tionsv All I know is that this person has information of vital
importange to United States interests and there isn't much
time to get the job done."
I was beginning to get a headache. Part of it was caused
by the consequences of my attempt to get past Jeorgos. Part
of it came from trying to sort out the confusing mass of dis-
connected information jammed into my head.
At least some of what Kasner had told me I knew to be
true.
Everything had to be done in a hurry.
In such haste that one of the president's aircraft had been
pressed into service.
In so much of a hurry that the different government agen-
Cieg hadn't informed their respective operatives that there
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were two unlinked operations being flown to Greece on that
plane.
So rushed that I had been swept up inadvertently into a
CIA mission I knew nothing about. It was a nightmare.
And I couldn't wake myself up from it.
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CHAPTER EIGHT
Marika's face was flushed and she was breathing hard
when she entered the room. She looked around quickly and
frowned when she heard what Jeorgos had to say. From the
accusing look she gave me, Jeorgos has given her an honest
accounting of our scuffe in which I was clearly the ag-
gressor.
"We can leave now," she announced.
Jeorgos either understood some English or was attuned to
a pre-arranged schedule. He stepped aside, permitting Kasner
and myself to follow Marika. As I reached his side, Jeorgos
suddenly grabbed my hand. I thought for a moment he was
going to renew our contest, but the wide grin that distorted
the normal droop of his full mustache dissolved that miscon-
ception. He pumped my hand vigorously and voiced some
complimentary Greek words.
I joined in the mutual admiration pact by cooperating in
the handshake. "Eff-har-is-to," I said, voicing my thanks.
Marika was watching us over her shoulder. Her soft smi19
gave approval to what I accepted to be only a truce.
I pushed around Kasner and caught up with Marika. She,
put a hand out behind her to keep me from crowding too
close. "Be quiet," she advised.
I grabbed her wrist and brought her up short next to the
basement door. I was taking a chance with Jeorgos right be-
hind me. I hoped he would think twice before interfering so
as not to involve Marika in a further brouhaha.
"Before we go anywhere, I want to be sure I'm not leaving
behind a small black bag that was hidden in the basement."
Marika flipped her arm, breaking loose my hold. "It is per•
fectly safe," she said curtly. "Mr. Gordon has it. He has
taken everything with him."
"Where is he?"
"Gone on ahead. With snarkas and your man Evans."
"Gone where?" I insisted. "How?"
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"There isn't time to explain now. We must also leave while
there is little chance of pursuit."
Balking at this point might cause additional problems. I
was far from satisfied, yet the only course left to me was to
accept Marika's guidance. I felt like a piece of flotsam on a
turbulent flood rushing aimlessly to some vague destination.
If there was a purpose in what was taking place, it was di-
rectly opposed to my own orders and desires. I felt helpless.
Beyond that, I was also ignorant of my destiny The only
bright spot in a very gloomy outlook was Marika's positive
attitude. Her firm, take-charge manner invited confidence.
followed Marika out the kitchen door and retraced the
path to the alley in the rear of the villa. The same ancient
truck was waiting, this time with wooden bows erected over
the splintery body. A tattered tarpaulin was draped over the
frames.
Jeorgos herded Kasner into the rear; then waited for me to
climb over the tailgate as well, Marika went forward to the
cab and opened the door opposite the driver's seat.
I needed some answers. Not too many more were going to
come from Kasner. Marika promised to be a much better
source. I started to move around Jeorgos. His hand snagged
my arm with a grip as strong as a fully-tightened vice. I let
out a grunt of pain. Marika turned her head quickly.
'Tel! this goon of yours to keep his hands to himself," I
demanded. "I've got to talk with you, and right now. I'll ride
up front with you."
"Later, perhaps," she replied. C 'You must be placed where
you won't easily be seen." She added some low-toned Greek
words. Jeorgos released me. In the dim light of the alley, I
thought I saw Marika's head move with a slow, uncompre-
hending shake as she turned her back on me.
Her rejection of me caused a reaction. A callused hand
pressed tightly against my mouth before I was bodily lifted
over the tailgate like a sack of feed grain, but I wasn't as
well padded. Other hands inside grabbed me. I was shoved
fonvard where I was pitched into a corner.
Within the truck body enclosed by the canvas cover, I
could make out human forms settling themselves across from
me. Jeorgos wedged me firmly in place by depositing himself
next to me. And strangely enough, he once more indicated a
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NICK CARTER: KILLMASTER
camaraderie by bouncing his fist lightly on my outstretched
leg to show he had no hard feelings.
Someone kicked a heel against the truck floor as a signal.
The old vehicle grated into a hesitant start. We rumbled and
shook along the narrow, dark alley, turning at the end where
it came out onto a cross street. It seemed to me that we were
back-tracking the route we had taken to leave the Hassani
side of the airport, but Jeorgos' body blocked my view out
the rear. I curbed my curiosity to see better. Any kind of a
move, however innocent, might be termed hostile by Jeorgos
and his men.
Seated opposite me were two swarthy, fierce-looking
Greeks. Each was armed with a carbine. Kasner was book-
ended by the pair. Both had long knives at their waists simi-
lar to the one worn by Marika. It was difficult to make out
their features; the illumination provided by widely-separated,
overhead street lights was far from adequate. There was
enough, though, to see that both eyed me with less than full
trust.
Soon the interior of the truck remained dark except for
the glow of cigarette ends. I enjoyed one of my own, mainly
to mask the perfume-sweet odor of heavy Grecian tobacco
which was cloying to me. We had left the street lights behind
and were now rolling over a smooth, two-lane, winding road
that followed the coastline. Athens was in the opposite direc-
tion. We were headed toward Sounion.
That isolated and windy point on which the old temple
ruins stood would make an excellent rendezvous. Once at
Sounion, however, there was nowhere to go except back.
Meeting there made no sense. Under the circumstances, I
could do nothing but wait and work to calm my anger at
Gordon and the blundering way he had mismanaged things.
I was slouched down in a blue funk, embittered and irked
at being caught up in this crazy adventure. Across front me,
one of the pantalooned mountain men was already snoring.
His equally sullen partner kept alert eyes on me and Kasner
as if we were either prisoners or valuable cargo. From the
stern and unblinking looks we received, prisoners was the
more apt term.
The truck finally slowed before making a sharp left turn.
The roadway became bumpy again. Dust seeped through the
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vide-spaced floorboards. We were following a lesser-used
back road. Despite quilted blankets spread out beneath us as
cushions, the ride was uncomfortable. For almost an hour we
suffered. In the starlight seen out the back of lhe truck. I
could make out the mass of a regularly-shaped mountain. I
nudged Jeorgos and pointed to the nearby hill.
"Pentelli," he said.
I was oriented once more. We had made a wide circuit,
avoiding Athens entirely. We were now north of the city near
Tatoi, a village adjacent to the site of the Greek Air Force
Academy. We were also back on a paved road leading north.
Surprisingly enough. I slept. Part of my tiredness was due
to jet lag that trouh!es long-distance travelers. Human time
mechanisms get upset when vast distances are covered rap-
idly. Kasner was similarly affected. So much so that he con-
tinued to sleep right through the brief refueling stop made at
a British petroleum station in the center of Thebes.
When I returned from having used the men's room. where
my personal needs were supervised by Jeorgos. Marika was
standing beside the truck's lowered tailgate.
"I wish to say
that I am sorry we had to treat you so badly," she said. s 'You
were being a bit difficult."
"Only because I resent being pushed around without a rea-
sonable explanation."
"Y Ou knew there might be some changes in. the plan."
"No, I wasn't told. Not about changes, Not about the
plan."
She looked up questioningly. ' GMr• Gordon did not tell
you?"
The truek driver approached us, stopping a respectful dis-
tance away. Marika, addressing the man as Takis. motioned
for him to come closen He walked with a slight limp. After
listening to Takis a moment, Marika issued some orders.
This time, when the truck got underway, Marika sat be-
tween me and Jeorgos in the back of the truck. Her place in
the cab was taken by one of the silent men who previously
had sat beside Kasner.
It was now past midnight and the air had turned chi".
Marika huddled against me for warmth, drawing old Jeorgos
against her from the other side. had to adjust the position of
Wilhelmina's holster at my waist because it dug into our hips,
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Marika accepted the fact that I carried a pistol with no com-
ment. Being armed was a way of life to her. She had said
nothing even though the chamois case on my arm containing
Hugo was quite visible when I removed it before jumping na-
ked in bed. Pierre, however. might have come as a surprise
had she later explored the full extent of my erection.
"You know where we are going. of course?" I asked as the
first of a hundred questions that needed answering.
"Yes, but the name would mean nothing to you. It is a
small village where Mr. Gordon will be waiting."
"Is that his real name—Gordon?"
' 'J wouldn't know. It is the name he uses. The name Car-
ter—is it your true name?"
"Yes.•How did you learn it was Carter?"
"From Mr. Gordon. Carter. Is that all?"
"The first name's Nick."
"Jt is also a Greek name. Nicolas or Nikko for short in
Greek." She pronounced it 'Neeko'.
Small talk was leading nowhere. T cut it off. "V/hat made
Gordon take off by himself? Why didn't he wait for us?"
' 'Illere was a schedule to keep. And there was a question
when it would be safe to bring the truck hack to Madam
L'Este's house. So Mr. Gordon went on ahead in a smalls fast
car only large enough for three people. He was afraid of
being late."
"Late for what?"
"That I do not know. It has something to do with a signal
that was to be sent from a certain place. I think it is where
we will join Mr. Gordon."
"You don't know much," r remarked.
"l know what I and my friends must do," Marika replied.
"I also know that all will give their lives if necessary for the
same thing."
are your friends?" I asked. Tey were a motley
crew if ever I saw one. ney reminded me of a band of
disorganized pirates who would turn on one another for a
price. I mentioned that to Marika. "Who are they
handful of hired killers?"
Marika's answer was candid. "Yes, I suppose you coutd
call them that. They are here mostly for money, of course.
But they are also true and honest Greeks who remember
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when there was freedom in our country. They have the cour-
age to rebel in a small way against harsh rules imposed by
self-serving government officials who use force to suppress
and control our lives. The small way we fight is to aid outsid-
ers like you Americans when we think you are doing a good
thing."
"Life in Greece shouldn't be bad these days/' I suggested.
"Life in Greece is always good," Marika echoed. "But that
depends on what you are measuring life against. There is an
old Macedonian saying that a caged bird, though well-feds
cannot fly very far. We are still a poor country. People have
work, yes, btlt all they earn is needed to keep them alive.
You shall see. The students and workers are not fooled by the
Athens that is put on display for the tourists. That is only
what you see on the surface. The people know how it really
is underneath."
I didn't want to get caught up in a political or economic
argument. They weren't important topics at the moment. I
had learned enough about Greek character to know that pol-
ities was a matter of deep personal convictions and no other
subject would bring about strained relations more quickly. I
didn't want to lose the rapport I hoped to build with Marika.
I changed the subject. "Where did you learn to speak En-
glish so well?"
"I attended Anatolia College. It is an American-sponsored
school where English is the scholastic language. I also spent a
year at the American University in Beirut."
"You speak it with much less accent that your friend
Vlarkas."
Marika tossed her head. "He is no friend," she snapped,
"although he would like to be much more than that." She
looked up into my face and her turned-down mouth reversed
itself. As she pressed more tightly against me, I realized that
her rejection of Vlarkas didn't apply to all men.
"He seems a brave man," I said, trying to get her to say
more about him.
"He is filth!" Marika spat out.
'Then why are you together?"
"Vlarkas?" She roiled the name off her tongue as though
she was tasting bad wine. "He comes from the northern
mountains near Thessolonika where he leads a small band of
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men who sometimes work the sheep, but mostly drink ouzo
and play cards at the taverna. Sometimes they hunt—mostly
for women. Hah! Vlarkas considers himself quite a cham-
pion. But he and his men are usefuL T%ey have strength and
endurance and will go where Jeorgos and I go."
"Jeorgos is your man; there's no question about that."
She reached over and patted the wiry old Greek on the
leg. "Thios, Uncle Jeorgos, is special. Him I would trust with
my life." She leaned forward and clasped her bare knees be-
tween locked arms.
"Cold?" I asked.
Her head came up. "No," she answered too quickly.
'Tired?"
"Yes," she admitted. "Watching the road for long stretches
at night makes one sleepy."
I drew up the slack in the padded blanket on which we
were sitting and held it up behind her. "Lean back now. This
will help,"
She did. I let go of the blanket and placed my hand
around the curve of her shoulder. She let her head press
against rny jaw for a brief moment before she lifted it again.
She took the scarf from her head and when she snuggled
back, the scent of her hair enveloped me.
"Much better," Marika whispered as together we adjusted,
the blanket so that it covered our shoulders. Then she drew
my hand down from her shoulder and placed it so that it
cupped her breast. Her hand moved down, reaching between
my legs and pulled against my inner thigh to bring us closer
together. She hung onto my leg so that when the truck
swayed we wouldn't break body contact.
My free hand touched her bare knees. Her skin was cold
and roughened with goose bumps. I slid my hand along until
she clamped her knees together, capturing my hand between
her thighs. 'Ihe warmth found there was appreciated.
"I am weary," Marika confessed. "You do not mind that
we share our body heat? Under the circumstances—with re-
specfable Uncle Jeorgos beside us—that is all we can share
for now—no?" I felt her cheek move against my shoulder
and I knew she was smiling broadly.
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When dawn appeared it hung up a pink backdrop against
which the pyramidic bulk of Mount Olympus was silhouetted.
Athens was two hundred miles behind us. We had left the
smooth, midland highway at Kallithea and were now trav-
ersing a graded, gravel road.
It became light enough to detect the plume of dust
churned up by the truck. Marika stirred. Half-awake, she
nuzzled back into the nest of my arm and shoulder and
sighed contentedly. The next moment she sat up quickly, be-
coming wide awake.
"I'm sorry," she apologized. "Did I bother you?"
"Not nearly as much as the last time we were this close," I
reminded her. "Really, I didn't mind at all."
She looked around and saw that another blanket had been
lashed to the truck bows so that we were screened behind it,
out of sight of the others. "Someone is making the joke," she
said with some heat.
"It was put there by Jeorgos," I told her. "He wanted to
keep the daylight from waking you."
"He knows what I did with you at Madam L'Este's house.
She has both a big heart and a big mouth. Jeorgos will never
permit me to forget what I did."
"Nor will I," I said. If she heard that comment, she didn't
show it.
Marika threw off the covering blanket. She fluffed her hair
and smoothed down her clothing. Jeorgos jabbed her foot
with the butt of his light rifle and pointed a dirty fingernail
toward the rear. His gesture was accompanied by a screech
of worn brakes and a turn off the gravel road. The new route
threaded through a cluster of small houses. Scrawny chickens
squawked and ran out of the way, wings flapping. Slit-eyed
goats turned inquisitive heads and black-legged lambs bleated
protests along with their thick-wooled mothers as the truck
rumbled by.
The vehicle finally shuddered to a halt. "We get out here,"
Marika said.
The quiet Greek seated opposite us had already cleared the
tailgate. The two from the cab joined him where he stood
facing a low stone wall. In unison, each opened and dug into
the fly of his trousers, then proceeded to urinate against the
dry rocks.
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I helped Marika down over the tailgate. She seemed hesi-
tant to accept the courtesy. It wasn't until she had leaped
down, barely putting any weight on my hand that I realized
such an urbane display was grosslyout of place in this primi-
tive farm district.
Vlarkas had come out of nearby abandoned farmhouse.
He watched my actions with unconcealed scorn. He showed
his disapproval even more pointedly by hacking noisily and
deliberately spitting in my direction. Behind him, Evans stood
in the sagging doorway.
Gordon came around a comer of the dilapidated building
at a run. "We were worried about you," he said, more to
Marika than either Kasner or myself.. "Any trouble?"
S 'None," Marika reported.
"Where's my bag?" I demanded.
"Inside," replied Gordon offhandedly.
"I'll check," I answered, moving to step past him.
He snared my arm. "If I say it's okay, it's okay. Sl,mat's
with you, Carter? You seem to have been making a special
effort to buck me since we left the States."
I looked down at his clutching fingers, then back up into
his face. "ltd like to see for myself, if you don't mind. Ihen I
think we'd better have •a talk. I've got something to tell you
that could make a difference in your plans."
"You'll tell me?" He glared at me darkly and shoved my
arm away instead of just letting loose, "Yes, we've got sorner
thing to get straight. Go look at your precious bag while I
cover a couple of things with Marika. Then we'll clear the
I went toward the farmhouse. For a moment it looked as
though Vlarkas wasn't going to step aside, but he did. I won-
dered how many enemies was going to end up with before I
divorced myself from this rogue errand.
Evans backed into the building as I came up to the door.
He looked tired. As I passed him, he said, "He's a real
touchy one, that Gordon. I wouldn't push him too hard. He's
all right aslong as everything goes his way,"
"It doesn't look like much has gone right for him so far," I
answered. "Plus a real jolting surprise I've got to pass on to
him that could change the way things are going even more.
Where's my bag?"
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T followed the direction indicated by his thumb and got a
surprise of my own.
Evans' large backpack case stood open and spread out
against the side wall. Its contents were not medical supplies.
load converted into a complete radio station. The box.
like console mounted on telescoping, tubular legs contained a
long-range transmitter and companion receiver. I recognized
it as a Navy shore reconnaissance rig that had a reliable
range of over 250 miles.
The discovery gave me considerable relief. Evans' portable
radio had ample range to reach the embassy communications
center in Athens. Contact was not only possible, but essential
to clarify what I now knew to be a fully-developed crisis.
There was something about Evans that triggered an inspira-
tion. I spun around to face him. "What's your rating, sailor?"
I demanded.
Evans was a poor actor. way he shifted his eyes and
stammered gave him away. "Wha ... what ... what do you
mean?"
"Come on, Evans, don't try to con me. This equipment is
brand new and exclusively Navy. The last I heard, only chief
radiomen have been authorized to attend a course on it.
You're no medic. You're fresh off of some aircraft carrier."
"I never claimed to be a medic. You're the doctor. That's
your bag over there, isn't it?" He jabbed a finger at the small
black carrying case that was perched on an overturned
wooden bucket.
'0That's my case, all right," I agreed, "but it's not what you
think it is, and neither am I."
Both of us were locked in silence with the discovery that
eech one of us had thought the. other to be something he was
not.
The awful stillness was shattered by Gordon's penetrating,
demanding voice. "Carter! Get your ass over here!"
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CHAPTER NINE
snatched up my rotor case and stalked past Evans, who
stepped back to clear the way for me to storm through the
sagging doorway. Gordon's insolent manner provoked me to
the point of being more than angry with him. I was glad that
the distance between the farmhouse and the shed was great
enough for me to reach the count of seven before con-
fronting the-arrogant man.
He drew baek into the shed as I approached, lifting aside
the weather-beaten door that hung crookedly on leather
hinges. Half of the flat-roofed building was filled with a raft-
er-high mound of straw that gave off the unmistakable odor
of oregano. Holes in the roof allowed daylight to filter in.
Still, it took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the shaded
interior. Gordon motioned for me to sit on a slatted wooden
crate in one corner.
"I'd like to say something," I began.
"Later," he cut me off angrily. "First we'd better get some-
thing straight between us. Then you can sound off."
"But you don't understand—
"You don't understand, Carter!" Gordon barked. "Now,
by God, you're going to listen or I'll have Vlarkas gag you so
you will listen! So what's it going to be?"
Further argument was useless. I gritted my teeth and be-
gan to count to ten again. "Go ahead," I acquiesced. It took
an effort to keep my voice low and steady.
"All right," huffed Gordon. "You've just demonstrated
what the trouble is. I don't know why you've adopted this at-
titude, but it's been one of reluctant cooperation ever since
you got aboard the airplane. I was led to understand that you
were willing to help with this extremely sensitive mission. I
was told—despite the necessarily hurried briefing that you
got—that we all got—that you had a clear understanding
that I was to be in charge and wholly responsible. If that
point wasn't specifically covered, please understand that is the
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way it must be. No one—especially not you, Carter—has the
right to question my authority. I 'am both competent and
qualified to direct our activities, and I expect each person to
contribute by placing his talents under my direction. Does all
that make sense to you?"
"Perfectly," I replied patiently. I only half-listened. I was
marshalling my thoughts so I could present them to Gordon
in a way that he would accept the disappointment rationally.
"All right, then," he continued. "We're finally beginning to
get in step. I appreciate that you don't do this sort of thing
every day, and that you were drawn in with very little prepa-
ration." Gordon's temper was beginning to subside. In a mo-
ment he might be cool enough for me to release my
bombshell. "If you didn't have the professional knowledge es-
sential to our task of reaching and controling General
Rudetsky, you wouldn't have been rushed into these unfamil-
iar surroundings. But this is where it has to happen. You un-
derstand that, don't your
I stared at some insects scurrying around in the straw at
my feet.
"Don't you?" Gordon repeated with a tone of impatience.
Nothing would be gained by letting him go on. For a bur-
Tied and testy man like Gordon there was no other way to
tell him except straight out and let it hit him squarely in the
gut.
"NO, I don't," I said firtnly. 'Now, before you blow your
top and screw up your mission by telling me something lim
not supposed to know, let me tell you quickly that I haven't
the vaguest idea of what you're talking about. Until this mo-
ment, I never heard the name of General Rudetsky. That was
it, wasn't it? Rudetsky? As far as I know there's no reason
why he and I should be brought together here in Greece or
anywhere else. Look, Gordon, it's not your fault. I'm not the
person you expected. I can't be of any help to you. I wish
we'd had time to bring this up before."
Gordon's face reddened with rage. It was getting through
to him that I was sincerely suggesting some horrible error
had been made. Veins stood out on his forehead. He
clenched his fists until his knuckles tumed white. Then his
words gushed out. "What, for God's sake, do you think you
are doing here if you didn't expect to carry out your instruc-
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tions? Maybe you weren't told the man was General Rudet-
sky. That doesn't matter. But you can't refuse to treat
Rudetsky. Itis necessary. You were brought all this way for
just that purpose."
Gordon was sputtering so that his speech was diffcult to
understand. It bore little relation. to what I had said. It oc-
curred to me that he only heard what he wanted to hear. "I
won't have you defying me, Carter!" His voice approached
the level of a scream. "You can't back out now!" he shouted.
I got to my feet and stepped very slowly toward him. He
would first have to be calmed down before anything I said
would penetrate. He was obsessed with a single idea; any
other that threatened the existence of the first would be re-
jected. "Now, hold on a moment, Gordon," I said; continuing
to move toward him. I hoped a smooth, quiet movement
might help soothe the rage that had flared up again.
A form darkened the doorway. At first I thought it was
Kasner. I could use his help. Instead, the voice belonged to
Evans. "Sorry to interrupt, sir," he said, addressing Gordon,
"but you wanted to know when I made radio contact with
Bluebird Base. They say we have only four minutes of secure
air time for this transmission period."
Gordon's composure returned as if someone had thrown
cold water over him. "Yes, thank you," he replied. "111 come
immediately." Then he faced me. "We're not quite finished,
Carter, so wait here. I'll be right back." He turned and hut-
ried off behind Evans, leaving me no opportunity to com-
ment.
I raked my brain trying to place the name Rudetsky.
Hawk would know it instantly: He had a memory bank of al-
most infinite capacity. He also kept up on foreign military,
governmental, and diplomatic personalities. His knowledge of
current world events was much more extensive than mine.
I doubted that knowing who and what General Rudetsky
was would be much help in talking to Gordon. Our next
meeting would be mmost critical point in our confrontation. I
felt it would be useless to continue our guarded conversation.
Gordon had cause to be careful, but he seemed to be running
scared to the point of being unpredictable, Looking back, it
seemed that his project was doomed from the moment that
we met. Or even before that. I could see no way to keep it
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from going completely down the tube. But that was his probe
lem, not mine. I had one of my own.
If I could get Gordon to listen for a minute or two, I'd ex.
plain that I wasn't a doctor. Then, if a doctor was essential
to whatever was to be done with General Rudetsky, Gordon
might as well pack up hig end of the business. With luck, I
still might get back to the embassy with my rotors. To be
convincing, I'd have to show some proof that I wasn't the
doctor Gordon had expectid. I didn't have anything to back
up my story but the rotor case.
nnt thought introduced another dilemma for me that in.
volved a tough decision. Gordon, definitely part of a clandes-
tine activity sent out by a major intelligence agency, would
have a Top Secret security clearance. But even that would be
less than the clearance needed to permit•close-up examination
of Dordex cipher machine rotors. A special authorization,
given only by the National Security Agency itself, was
needed. Those. clearances Were as hard to get as a sympa-
thetic tax audit from the TRS
I was also aware that Gordon beld the upper hand. If I
didn't open the rotor bag to show that it contained no doc-
tor's equipment, Gordon would do it himself—even if I had
to be subdued physically while he did it.
If he insisted upon opening the bag, which I now consid-
ered most probable, he would have to be given the step-bye
step procedure to prevent instantaneous destruction of the
contents. To forestall any precipitous action by Gordon and
prevent an incalculable loss, I had to replace the absent
safety pin.
I dug into my pants to retrieve the metal clip from the
pocket where I had placed it before pitching myself out
through the aircraft emergency exit. My fingen groped, first
in one pocket, then the other. I patted and searched every
pocket I had. The protective safety pin Was in none of them.
My right hand kept going back to the first pocket where I
knew I bpd placed the clip.
I finally admitted I no longer had it. also rationalized
that it wasn't too surprising that it was missing. I had gone
through considerable body gyrations in the past eighteen
hours, and in one frantic episode I had discarded my clothes
with such haste that it was a wonder I still had my gun and
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holster. It was going to be a pretty lame excuse—when I re-
ported the loss of the safety pin to an unsympathetic security
chief at the embassy communications center in Athens. I
doubt if he's ever heard or would appreciate the one about
losing accountable government property as a result of too
hurriedly jumping into bed with a woman.
Looking back, there had been plenty of movement and jose
fling during the all-night tmck ride. With any luck at all, the
pin might have dropped from my pocket during the journey.
It could be in the folds of the blankets left in the truck. It
was an odds-on gamble, but I couldn't let even the most re-
mote chance go by.
I snatched up the rotor case; I wasn't going to let it out of
my hands again. When I rose up outside after stooping to
pass through the low doorway of the shed, I ran full into
Vlarkas. He had been waiting for me. He planted himself
squarely in front of me, his carbine unslung and held across
his chest in a slack port arms position.
He pushed me back roughly, using his gun as a prop and
intentionally ramming the butt forward with my groin as the
target. I danced back. The grinning Greek switched his
stance so that the small, ugly muzzle of his gun pointed di-
rectly at my stomach.
His rifle-swinging gestures made it clear to me that---until
Gordon decided otherwise-—I was to be restricted and kept
under guard in the low-ceilinged shed.
I expected Gordon to return after a reasonable length Of
time. When he didn't, I appealed to Vlarkas to let me go talk
to him. He vetoed my request with a smug, contemptuous
scowl. Either he had been told to accept no conversation, or
he was deliberately giving me the silent treatment of his own
accord. In any event, he made certain that I remained in-
communicado a short time later by turning the guard duty
over to one of the two laconic guerilla fighters who hadn't ut-
tered a single word during the whole trip from Athens.
"Ille muscular, thick-thighed youth sat cross-legged on the
ground a dozen feet in front of the doorway. He cradled his
rifle in his lap. The glum-looking peasant seemed completely
immune to any type of communication, verbal or otherwise.
That lack was no indication of laxness; each time I stuck my
head out the door he was on his feet with surprising alacrity.
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ne sun had gone past its zenith, and the temperature in-
side the small hut was beginning to mount. I was down to my
shirt sleeves and thirsty. Rumblings in my stomach reminded
me of the long time since I had eaten at the brief refueling
stop in Thebes. nere, thanks to the foresight of Jeorgos, his
knapsack had provided some coarse bread and a wedge of
crumbly, strong-smelling white cheese. Takis, the driver, had
produced a bottle of retsina, a resin-flavored native wine. The
first swig tasted like eåu de turpentine. I was prepared for
the second. On balance, the traditional Greek vintage wasn't
too bad.
I was nodding from extended boredom when the sound of
Marika's voice brought up my head. She was conversing with
the guard. After a short exchange, she came into the shed.
She carried a chipped porcelain plate, a short-handled table-
spoon, and a chunk of bread that had been torn off the end
of a long, crusty loaf.
"I have brought you something to eat. It is moussaka given
to us by a woman from the village. I hope you will like it."
"I could eat anything. Thanks."
The food was cold, but tasty and seasoned spicily enough
to be warming. Marika talked as I ate. "Please do not have
ill feelings toward us because we sit guard over you. We have
agreed to help Mr. Gordon and do as he asks. He is not sure
of you and I think he associates his bad luck with your
presence."
"I've been asking myself about you," I replied. "Gordon
doesn't need a private army of natives to guide him around
the country. There must be Americans here who know the
country well."
"Americans are carefully watched these days," • she exa
plained. new government is cautious, partly because the
Americans were 80 close to the old monarchy for so many
years. There is something about royalty that seems to appeal
to Americans, but that does not matter. The point is that
your government must tread about on tip-toe and move very
carefully in Greece."
"Your little band doesn't, though. -rhey act like a bihch of
freedom fighters."
'VSome were, years ago. But the Greece they fought for as
child soldiers against the Germans and later against the Com-
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munists ig not the Greece of today. Now they feel me
strangers in a new land. Politics have made us outcasts in our
own country. We do not subscribe to the manner in which
the current govemment is managing things."
Her words and Gordon's mention of a link-up with a for-
eign general brought to mind another undercover blooper
known as the Bay of Pigs. Could this disorganized group be
part of a ragged force planning a coup d'etat against the
present regime? If it was, the outcome didn't have any better
hope of success that the horrendous Cuban failure. The
ghosts of that fiasco still haunted the corridors of the huge
CIA headquarters. "Is Gordon mixed up -in some under-
ground strike with your help?"
"No. You don't understand. What we do is only for you
Americans."
"Then what are you in it for? Just the money?"
"Freedom, perhaps, for my father."
#Your father?"
"Yes. He is still branded as being politically dangerous, but
that is only an excuse to keep him in prison. He is Greek,
you see, but he was born and brought up in Egypt. My
mother was a beautiful Egyptian woman. My father had to
flee Cairo—forced to leave by an ambitious military dictator,
Emil Nasser-—leaving our home and business behind.
Forlakis textile mills are some of the largest in that country.
But all belongs to favored Egytians now.
ßln Greece, we started over again. All went well until the
junta took over. The royal family was not entirely blameless,
you know. They made conditions ripe for a revolt after King
Paul died. The colonels saw an opportunity to profit from the
Forlakis family holdings in Egypt. They would not accept my
father's word that he no longer possessed anything there. To
gain his cooperation, he was put in prison as a national trai-
toru His release was contingent on his signing over his assets
in Egypt to the Greek government. The records relating to
the diffculty he had with the junta of colonels have mysteri-
ously disappeared, so he is still held as a prisoner for crimes
against the state, even though the junta has been deposed. As
a hold-over of actions of the former government, Marika, the
daughter of Guthan Forlakis, is also sought for questioning.
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Here in Greece, no matter which men are in power, that
means an indefinite time in prison for me."
"And where does Gordon come in?"
'This Gordon . .
I do not like him," Marika said as a
preface. "We work with him because he is the one sent to us.
For our help to him, we have a promise from your govern-
ment that it wül intercede with the present Greek leaders to
release my father. Your government—and the Yankee dol-
lar—is not without some influence even though outwardly the
relations appear to be strained."
"Who is this General Rudetsky?'
"You don't know of him?"
I shook my head.
Marika's eyebrows knitted into a questioning frown. She
studied me momentarily. "If you don't know about the gen.
eral, why were you brought here by Mr. Gordon?" The tone
in her voice told me-that she feared she shouldn't have told
me as much as she had.
"It was a mistake. Not Gordon's, but still a mistake. Why
is General Rudetsky so important?"
'Filiat is strange—that you do not know. Perhaps the news
was not publicized in your country."
"What news?"
"General Rudetsky is a Rumanian. Very high in the
Rumanian Armed Forces, in a position like your Joint Chiefs
of Staff members. He was caught spying for the Russians by
the Rumanian Secret Police."
'VThat's a switch. I thought Rumania was locked in solid
with the Soviets."
Marika passed me a look that said I couldn't be as naive
as my remark indicated. Then her face softened. "The gen-
eral was quickly tried by a senior military court, condemned,
and sentenced to be executed by firing squad."
"But be escaped," I concluded.
"Yes, with the aid of persons unknown. I think that you
and Mr. Gordon might be friends of those unknown persons.
You are in that kind of business, think."
Marika didn't know how right she was. I excluded myself
by lying. "Gordon; maybe. Not me. I never heard of General
Rudetsky until Gordon mentioned the name this morning."
Russians and Rumanians made much about the trial.
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rm surprised you didn't read about it in American newspa-
pers. ne escape, though, was kept quiet."
"Communist countries are a little reluctant to publicize
their goofs," I said.
"Not this time," corrected Marika. "An elaborate fabrica-
tion was released by the Russians saying that Rudetsky was
drowned when a flimsy boat in which he was crossing the
Danube to get from Rumania to Bulgaria collapsed. They
did, at that time, admit, that Rudetsky had escaped, but
devised an obvious hoax about his death by drowning.
exhibited an actual dead body fished out of the river."
"Have you proof that the Russians faked it?"
"I have never seen the general, but I have complete trust
in friends along the northern border who have told Vlarkas
and Jeorgos that Rudetsky crossed over into Yugoslavia and
continued south in Greece."
I scooped up the last mouthful of the hearty Greek dish. It
made me feel much better about the immediate future, but
not about Marika's story. In a world of grim internatiorial in-
trigue, charades and deceptions were standard tools of the
trade. I voiced my doubts. "Even well-intentioned people can
be misled."
Instead of getting a rise from Marika, she nodded ber
head in agreement "That may bes Nikkos," she said softly,
using the Greek version of my name. "Just the same, since
two days ago my scouts have trailed Rudetsky and his armed
escort. They already passed through the northern mountaids
of enu•ace."
Her announcement verified the need for speed if this bast-
ily thrown together group was to intercept the Rumanian
general. It Riso accounted for the swift dispatch of a suddenly
assembled team from Washington. One thing Marika said
added a new element of danger. "You're sure about Rudet-
sky having an armed escort?"
"Yes. They've been seen. Which could mean that getting to
him won't necessarily be easy."
"Well, it certainly hasn't been so far. It's pretty obviou
that someone is working to prevent Gordon from reaching
him."
"Yes," she agreed. "What happened in Athens last night
was never meant to be." A conspiratorial smile spread across
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her face. She reached over and took the empty plate from
my lap and set it aside, then shifted herself so she shared the
wall as a backrest. Her eyes searched mine with disconcerting
frankness.
"Do you have any idea who might be trying to interfere?'
I asked.
"Are you suggesting it must be a Greek and not an Ameri-
"Not entirely. It could be anyone, but certainly one who
knows what's being planned. One who knew ahead of time
that we were coming, which points to a person or persons al-
ready here."
"Like someone in your embassy," she countered huffy.
"I won't deny it. After what's happened, nothing would
surprise me. But even though Gordon has gotten here on
schedule in spite of the delay in Athens last night, he'd be a
fool to think there's smooth sailing the rest of the way. You
see, there's one thing Gordon doesn't know yet that will
change his mind. I haven't had a chance to tell him the truth
about me."
Marika let out a husky laugh. It couldn't relate to what I
had just said. "What's funny," I asked.
' 'You were also not Uuthful with me." She dropped her
band onto my knee.
"When?"
"At Madame LSEste's house. You said you were not like a
rock, but when a part of you was." With that she brushed
her fingers along my cheek and jaw as she got to her feet. At
the doorway, she glanced outside, then stepped back to pull
the sagging shed door up against the splintery frame. It was a
poor fit. She found a loose board half-hidden in the straw
and propped it firmly against a cross member of the planked
door to bar entry.
"It is siesta üme," Sbe announced when she turned around.
"Nothing will be happening for the next hour except in
here." Her eyes were bright.
She had removed her knife belt and wool-lined vest by the
time Sbe reached me. Under the thin material of her white
blouse, erect buttons jutted at the tips of milky white breasts.
With a deft movement Marika dropped her skirt around her
feet. In the dim light of the shed, insinuating, shadowy depths
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rimmed the hem of her blouse. I felt a renewal of the stirring
she had brought about the night before.
S'This time there will be no interruption," she promised as
she knelt down and began helping me off with my jacket. She
examined Wilhelmina momentarily before she laid my belted
trousers aside.
Marika was self-assured, eager, and skillful. My response
was as gratifying to me as I hoped it was to her. Her mouth
covered my body with warm, wet kisses. Gently, I pushed her
to her back and explored her soft body with my lips and
hands. I lost track of time after that. When I entered her she
moaned softly, circling me with her legs. We moved together
slowly, taking our time, until finally her hips thrust upward in
rapid movements, and, matching her rhythm, I felt the burst
of my own climax just as she cried out hers.
I rolled to one side, and her warm hands followed me;
Light fingertips traced along my ribs, causing more involun-
tary shudders along my back.
It took me quite a while to recover, but not Marika.
Before I thought I could be aroused again, her enticing
caresses and erotic movements revived my desire.
The second time, we cemented international relations with
a firmer and more heightened resolve.
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CHAPTER TEN
Marika shook me. I opened my eyes. She was standing
over me, holding out my clothes. 'You fell asleep," she said
softly. "Get dressed quickly' Mr. Gordon is coming."
I managed to get all but my jacket on when Evans pushed
open the leather-hinged door. Gordon burst through immedi-
ately behind him. I lurched forward a step in response to the
way he shoved Marika aside. I didn't have a chance to say
anything; Gordon began shouting the moment his wild eyes
fixed on me.
"Who the hell are you, anyway? You're no doctor at all. I
thought there was something fishy about you ever since you
showed up at the last minute at Andrews. didn't you tell
me then?'
I stared at Gordon, feeling a little sorry for him. I held
back, waiting for him to recover from his outburst. From the
start he'd demonstrated that he was so set on dominating oth-
ers that nearly all conversations with him were one-way.
When I did venture to speak, I knew I had to tread lightly in
talking about what he considered his own particular domain.
"Is it all right to talk in front of everyone?" I meant
Evans. Marika, I felt, was entitled to know what her people
were up against as well as Gordon.
The infuriated man weighed my question, then said, "Go
ahead. We're all in this together, pretty much to the same de-
Evans seemed to want to hear my explanation because my
misinterpretation of his role---until discovering • he was the
communications man—had been one factor that had kept me
from revealing my position before. "I never claimed to be a
doctor," I reminded Gordon. "You merely assumed I was
one, partly because you were expecting a doctor to join you,
and also because my hand luggage doesnit look much differ-
ent from a physician's bag."
"We should have confirmed your status before we took
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Off," Gordon mumbled with hindsight, wasn't notified that
there would be an extra, last-minute passenger. The manifest
count was correct after you came aboard. I couldn't know
the doctor was missing."
' never would have shown up," T said.
"What makes you think that?" Gordon's voice snapped ac-
cusingly.
It took more than a few phrases to tell Gordon my theory
of how the mix-up bad occurred. The explanation had come
to me in bits and pieces ever since I realized I was out of
place among the others. If I hadn't remembered seeing the
medical emblem bearing the caduceus design on the bumper
of the exploding sedan piled up on the Suitland Parkway em-
bankment, even I would still be mystified. I had even won-
dered why nothing had been said when Gordon saw I had
come aboard the aircraft with a valpack filled for a three-day
stay, while everyone else brought nothing, in keeping with a
rapid hit-and-run operation. I hoped my belongings left on
the aircraft hadn't been confiscated.
As I related the incident, Gordon kept nodding his head as
if he accepted my account in the sense that it sounded plausi-
ble even though untrue. His eyes reflected positive doubts.
S 'Wthy did you come along?" he asked. "How did you know
we were going to leave from Andrews at that particular
time? What authority did you have for joining the flight?" He
knew what questions to ask.
I wondered if Cole's warnings could be disregarded
in order to explain those details to Gordon or anyone else.
Under the circumstances, which stemmed at least in part
from Cole's failure to be sure Gordon knew about the extra
passenger, I didn't think the usual security rules would neces-
sarily apply. But that kind of reasoning could lead to more
complications. Gordon grew impatient. "Come on, Carter, if
that's your name. You must have some explanation why
you're here. And it had better include how you got word of
our departure. How'd you do it?"
"It's your own stubbornness and tip-lipped security that's
kept me from telling you before. Now you'd better believe
me. I was put aboard the plane by the NSA, and you should
know what those initials stand for and how much power that
outfit has. I was expected at the American embassy in Athens
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where I was to repair some of NSA's classified communica-
tions gear."
"So why are you hanging onto the dead doctor's bag?" de-
manded Gordon.
'41 keep telling you it's not a medical bag."
"What's in it?"
I knew the question would come sooner or later. "It con-
tains .
. special tools." I'd paused to choose the words that
would be truthful, but would avoid giving the actual inven-
tory Of things in the rotor case. But that pause brought about
a situation I hoped would not develop. Gordon jumped to an
irrational conclusion.
He bobbed his head sharply. Evans, watching for the sig-
nalt reached between the zippered edges of his windbreaker
and jerked out a bulky .45 caliber, G.I. pistol. Its cannon-like
bore pointed straight at me.
Gordon's face was livid. 'That's a goddamned lie!" he
shouted. "You're not even what you claim to be. The only
thing I believe from you is that there's a dead doctor back in
Washington. You probably murdered him so you could taka
his place and get aboard our airplane. I don't know what
your game is, but whoever sent you to sabotage our mission
picked the wrong man for the job. You bastards are clever,
all right. Without a doctor I lose the medical assistance that
could be important but one thing's for sure: you're not
going to screw up this job anymore, because this is the end of
the line for you! I've come too far to give up now Believe
me, I'm going to see that you don't interfere, even if I have
to kill you!"
The insane look on Gordon's face made me glad that
Evans held the gun. If it had been in Gordon's hand, he
might have carried out his threat then and there. Evans took
a cautious backward step as if anticipating a desperate move
on my part.
Marika remained Silent, but stepped over and slowly bent
down to pick up my belt holster and gun from beside the
overturned wooden crate where she had placed it after re-
moving it from my trouser belt to inspect it. I was glad that
she had. A glimpse of it at my waist, or within easy reach of
my hand, could have precipitated all kinds of wrong moves
that could be fataL
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"You're completely off," I said again as calmly as T could.
It wasn't easy for Gordon to believe what I said, but- I
couldn't see much future for myself or success for Gordon's
task if I were to be kept a prisoner. "Look, Gordon," I sug-
gested, 'Stake time to help yourself. Evans' transmitter can
reach Athens easily. Have him contact the embassy the
communications center. They'll verify that I'm Car•ter. Nick
Carter."
"That's exactly how I know you're not!"
"Not what?"
"You're not anyone connected with our embassy, the State
Department, or any other agency in Washington who had a
hand in putting this project together. We've just finished a
scheduled transmission and asked our contact point to check
on you. The embassy was contacted. They say a Carter was
expected, but never arrived. I suppose he was waylaid, too."
' 'You've got to be out of your mind! The embassy must
know I'm with you. One of Minnick's soldiers had my pass-
port, which you took from me without my permission while
I was asleep."
"All passports were confiscated by the Greek authorities at
the terminal within minutes of the discovery that someone
left the field by the back gate. Our embassy hasn't succeeded
in getting the Greeks to give them back."
Gordon's tunnel-mind thinking left little room for argue
ment, but I had to try. 'Then don't jump to conclusions," I
insisted. "You're familiar with intelligence procedures arouÅd
Washington, so you know that anyone connected with NSA
has safeguards for himself and his contacts. You might not
be told what you want to know about me because you failed
to demonstrate a right to know."
Gordon's head-nodding showed agreement so far.
"All right, then. I'm going to go out on a limb and take
you into my confidence. Check once more with the embassy
through whatever radio channelsåave been set up for you.
Identify Nick Carter with the code name Willie. That's a
one-time key word known only to myself, the NSA, and the
communications security chief who is expecting me,"
That got to him. Gordon's eyes narrowed with thought. It
indicated that he was inclined to believe me, or that he ad-
mired my ability to lie. I had to sway him in the right direc-
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tion. I figured I might as well let the whole tiger out of the
bag. "Look, Gordon, it's worth checking out. Theyill tell you
I'm a special courier which is why I'm so concerned about
this little black bag that's caused most of our confusion. Pass
along word that you have Willie and hiS rotors intact and
you'll find my story substantiated. You'll also get a word •of
thanks, I promise you that," If Gordon would comply, I'd be
off two hooks at the same time.
A slow smile spread over Gordon's face. It started out
properly, then became an ugly sneer. He'd been letting me
ple@d, while all the time he had had his immovable mind al-
ready made up. "You're wasting my time and your breath,Ø
he snapped. "I've never heard such a far-fetched story.
You've got nerve, though, thinking I'd swallow that crap."
It looked like I had reached the end of the line. Even
Marika stood apart now, making me feel very much alone.
Not only alone, but impeding what was a delicate and impor-
tant mission. The only way to clear away the roadblock I
represented was to eliminate that hindrance.
I wasn't ready to be eliminated. I tried to explain further,
but after three words, the incredulous looks on the faces of
Gordon and Evans—even Marika—told me it was useless to
continue. With a fatalistic shrug of my shoulders, I concluded
by saying: "I guess there's no possible way I can convince
you,"
"Not me," Evans said with finality.
Gordon moved sideways and took the pistol from Evans.
"Don't get any funny ideas now," he warned me. I lifted both
hands shoulder high to show him my intentions were both
passive and amenable. His Orders to Evans were precise.
"Send Jeorgos in here, then get on the radio and check out
this Willie code-name business. Stay with it until you get an
answer.
Evans hesitated. He opened his mouth to speak. Gordon
knew what his protest would be and countered it. "T know
we're in a period of radio silence, but this is important. Use
your emergency frequency, even if you have to relay it
through Ramrod Remote." Evans' mouth closed as a prelude
to ducking out the door.
Jeorgos' entry immediately on the heels of Evans' depar-
ture indicated that Marika's men had gathered outside. The
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hoary old Greek glanced around quickly, looking to Marika
for an explanation. Her words in Greek were few and given
meaning when Gordon thrust the heavy automatic into Jeor-
gos' hand.
When Jeorgos turned to face me, his gun hand was steady,
although the sad look in his eyes was like that of an innocent
who had been told he might have to destroy a favorite pet
suspected of contracting rabies,
I figured that we were going to have a long wait before
Evans came back with an answer. Even then, it might not be
favorable, The communications offcer who could verify my
claim might not be at his post. I worried that some other em-
bassy offcial, asked in his absence, might honestly and off-
handedly deny any knowledge of me and certainly be unable
to corroborate the code-name identity.
Thinking of these possibilities made me nervous. I con-
sciously clasped my hands together to get a grip on myself.
My agitation didn't escape Gordon's notice; it served to
heighten his suspicion. He appeared unsettled too. Under the
growing pressure, fed by his own imagination, his patience
and temper shortened with each waiting minute. The day had
grown unseasonably warm, which added to everyone's dis-
comfort.
Gordon was a man keyed to action. Inactivity in the face
of a rapidly approaching deadline was inexcusable. The strain
building in him expressed itself in the nervous way he shifted
his weight, squatted for a moment, then rose again. Twice he
went to the door, looking toward the farmhouse. Each time
he came back, his eyes went to the rotor case perched on the
wooden crate next to me. It seemed to fascinate him.
The moment he spoke, I sensed that his impatience and cu-
riosity were overriding his judgment. He saw the carrying bag
as the one piece of physical evidence that would either give
credence to or shatter the entire foundation of my story.
Looking directly at me, Gordon barked out an order.
"Open it! If that isn't the doctor's bag, it won't have medi-
cines in it. Go ahead. Open it!"
I didn't move. I just stared at the bag while a kaleidoscope
of circumstances whirled in my head. Up to this point, I
hadn't committed any vital security violations. It was true
that the rotors were slightly off target, but they were still
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within my care. Revealing the closely-guarded devices to
unauthorized personnel was another thing altogether. Inspec-
tion of classified blueprints of the Dordex cipher system by
other than carefully cleared individuals was a breach of trust
that carried heavy, mandatory penalties.
I debated with myself too long.
Gordon shouted ahother command. I was too wrapped up
in my own thoughts to recognize immediately the meaning of
Gordon's words. Vlarkas, who was apparently eavesdropping,
rushed into the shed at Gordon's call for him. "Grab himlØ
Gordon yelled.
Vlarkass strong arms clamped around me before r could
raise mine. He was incredibly fast and had the advantage of
Jeorgos' threatening pistol to make any resistance on my part
unwise. Freedom of movement wasn't important as long as I
could speak. It wasn't diffcult to predict Gordon's intentions.
"Wait!" I cried out. "Don't touch that bagl It's got a self-
destruct mechanism in it. Don't try to open it!"
Gordon reached past me and grabbed up the rotor case,
clutching it to his chest and backing away so I couldn't reach
him with my foot. The commotion brought the stocky truck
driver, Takis, to the doorway. Two other grizzled heads
peered over his shoulders. I kept struggling and yelling warn-
ings until a callused hand smashed against my mouth so hard
one of my lips was split. I heard my own shouts become a
gurgle.
Gordon knelt before the bag, his back to me. Jeorgos
moved sideways, placing himself next to Marika so he could
speak to her. At that moment, a muffled "poof!'S sounded and
white-hot flame as bright as a solar flare erupted in front of
Gordon. The intense light blinded everyone.
A wave of blast-furnace heat swept through the shed.
Vlarkas released me to cover his face with his hands. Jeorgos
wasn't going to use the gun now; could see his silhouette
turned away from the scorching, incandescent pyrotechnics.
Gordon's reflex action pitched him backward. He turned as
be fell, ending up face downward and screaming.
I leaped over bim, shielding my face and eyes with an arm
thrown up for protection. I kicked the flaming mass into a
corner and used my feet to scuff dirt from the earthern floor
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NICK CARTER: KILLMASTER
over the ignited straw. But nothing would stop the chemi-
cally-generated fire. It would have to burn itself out.
The thermite-impregnated polyurethane casing consumed
itself rapidly. In moments it had burned completely, leaving
only a residue of gray-white ash.
If ever a man saw his career go up in smoke before his
eyes, I had seen mine destroyed instantly in that miniature
holocaust.
For an unforgettable moment I stared down at the
ground-zero point where my future lay in ashes.
Not a shred of the secret blueprints remained. "Ihe irre-
placable rotors had been totally vaporized. The only evidence
that either blueprints or rotors ever existed was some twisted,
glowing metal that had once been the frame of the
carrying case.
Absolutely nothing was left
And that described precisely my prospects for recovering
the professional standing I had once enjoyed.
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CHAPTER ELEVEN
When I turned around, everyone except Marika was frozen
in place, immobilized by the suddenness of the tragedy. She
was kneeling next to the moaning Gordon, trying to examine
his injuries. I got down on the opposite side of his prone
form and helped Marika turn him over.
He wasn't a pleasant sight. He was in bad shape and con-
siderable pain. It was also apparent that he needed prompt
medical treatment. Marika reached the same conclusion.
S'"H1ere's a first-aid kit in the cab of the truck," she said in
a voice more calm than most would have been.
"I'll get it," volunteered Kasner from the doorway. I
glanced up to see him draw back from peering over wide-
eyed Takis' shoulder.
Kasner must have covered the distance at Olympic sprinter
speed. He was breathless when be returned only moments
later.
Marika and I had been working over Gordon long enough
to have exhausted the meager supplies found in the emer-
gency medical kit when Evans came into the shed, It was
filled with a lingering fog of acrid smoke which had driven
the others out into the farmyard.
"Jee-zuzl" Evans gasped when he saw how we had
wrapped Gordon from mid-chest to forehead in temporary
gauze bandages with only slits across his mouth and eyes.
"Kasner just told me what happened. God! He really
torched himself!"
The pain-racked man could barely see through his already
swollen eyelids and he kept asking why the smoke hadn't
cleared. Obviously, his vision had been impaired.
A dozen times in as many minutes I wished I were the
doctor Gordon expected me to be. I was also disappointed to
find no morphine syrettes in the first aid kit. Gordon's pain
was so severe that the few words he muttered were on the
verge of incoherence.
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Marika's deftness and ability with the few first-aid supplies
were amazing. Our agreed decision was that Gordon should
be taken to a hospital without delay. The small automobile in
which he, Evans, and Vlarkas had been brought to the farm
had been driven back to Athens. The old truck would have
to be used for the journey.
When I suggested that Gordon's condition wouldn't be
helped by the rough thirty-mile trip back to Larissa where I
assumed a hospital was located, Marika advised me that only
Athens had the facilities to care for a person with Gordon's
extensive burns.
"He can't be moved that far," I said. "He'd die before we
got him there in that rickety truck."
Marika agreed with a slow, reluctant nod.
I got up and faced Evans. "Get back on your radio and
make contact with whoever it is that's monitoring this oper-
ation. Tell them what's happened to Gordon. His condition is
extremely critical and he shouldn't be moved. Request imme-
diate help."
"I don't think—-
I cut him off sharply. "I don't give a damn what you think.
Do it."
Evans took another look at Gordon, then turned and left
slowly' I didn't have the heart to shove him with a verbal
blast, even though speed was essential if Gordon was to be
given a fifty-fifty chance to survive.
It never dawned on me until be left that Evans had
showed up in the shed long Åfter the mishap. That meant he
had followed instructions and stayed on bis transmitter until
station contact had been made. That .was secondary now.
Confirmation of my status would serve no purpose. Gordon
could no longer carry out his task.
"What will you do now?" I asked Manka.
"Remain with Mr. Gordon and do what is expected of us."
"Your job here has fallen apart, you realize that. Without
Gordon to run things, there's no way youll know what to
do."
Gordon ceased to moan for a moment. I thought he had
lapsed into unconsciousness. It would be best for him if he
did. Instead, after a few rasping breaths, he tried to raise his
head to speak. His voice was changed and strained* Inhaling
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the super-heated air must have seared his vocal cords. "Go
on," he gasped. "Have have to go on. 'Sss important!"
"Don't talk," Marika and I chorused together.
Gordon disobeyed. "Mus' reach Rudetsky," he insisted.
The effort taxed him and he became quiet. It was hard to tell
if his eyes were open or not. The lids were puffy and sun-
burn-red.
"Look after him," I said to Marika. "l have to talk to
Evans."
s 'I will," agreed Marika. "Will you please ask Jeorgos and
Vlarkas to come here, and tell Takis to make the truck
ready?"
I found Evans hunched over his radio console, using an
overturned bucket as a stool. He was working the telegraph
key. A pushbutton microphone was lying ready near his
hand. As I approached, he pushed back one earphone of the
set clamped over his head. "Can't raise anyone right now, but
I'll keep at it. We're not supposed to be on the air, you
know." His hand kept tapping out code, Like a practiced mu-
sician who can converse while playing piano, Evans was ca-
pable of talking while working his sending key.
"This is an emergency, Chief. You won't be blamed for
operating off schedule."
"I realize that, sir," he replied, automatically accepting his
subordinate role. "l wasn't thinking of our side. We've been
working from this one spot a long time. Any kid with a
hand-held transistor receiver could easily get a D/F fux on us
with all the transmitting I've done."
I didn't miss the respectful "sir" he had used. "You did get
through to Athens, I take it."
'SYes, sir. Hope you won't think that I—
I broke in. "No need to apologize. I'm glad to know we're
both in the clear."
"More than that, sir. I was told that you should be given
every assistance in order suddenly stopped, then
grinned sheepishly. "Guess it doesn't matter now, does it?
Your stuff is all burned up."
' 'No, it doesn't matter anymore."
"I'm real sorry, sir."
"Feel sorry for Gordon. He's the one who needs help."
Evans raised his hand, requesting silence. He slid the dis-
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placed earphone into position. His right hand stopped bob-
bing. "I'm getting through," he said. "Do you want to talk to
them? It's Bluebird Base." He offered the microphone to me.
"No, it's best you talk to them. Might save some explaining
and I'd appreciate if you don't mention what caused the acci-
dent. You were here at your set when it happened so you can
say honestly that you don't know the details. How the fire
started isn't important anyway?'
The less I got involved, the better off everyone would be,
so I slipped out of the farmhouse while Evans was making
his report and requesting aid. If Gordon's strange effort was
anywhere near organized, Bluebird should be equipped with a
standby plan to cover contingencies even as sudden and dras-
tic as this one. There were aspects of mission backup becom-
ing evident that indicated this wasn't the slipshod,'lash-up op-
eration my first introduction to it had led me to believe it
was.
Something was different about the farmyard when I
walked through it. When I had given Marika's message to a
glowering Vlarkas, Jeorgos and the two other mercenaries
had been seated with their backs against an immense olive
tree that must have been centuries old. All were silently
smoking cigarettes.
Now only Takis was present. He was bent over the old
truck's engine, canopied by the raised hood. The others were
nowhere in sight. I guessed that they had reached an agree-
ment that it was too dangerous to remain. They were wise to
get out as soon as they could. The whole apparatus was be-
ginning to disintegrate. I didn't blame them. Without Gordon
to provide leadership, the entire effort, from their point of
view, was doomed.
I found Gordon propped up and taking Water through a
natural straw Marika had selected from the stack piled in
one comer. The man's stamina was remarkable. His determi-
nation was even more admirable. "What
what did they
say?" I had to strain to hear Gordon's question.
"Evans is asking that medical aid be sent to us now," I an-
swered.
"No," huffed Gordon. "About you. What
what about
you?"
But he already knew I had been honest about the rotor
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case, and my hesitation tn replying now was expressive
enough; he turned his bandaged head away to acknowledge
his acceptance that the rest of my story was also true.
I should have waited. Sorry . .. caused you trouble.
Reany sorry." Talking was a painful effort.
"Don't try to say anything," I replied. I'd misjudged Gor-
don. It took a courageous and unselfish man to admit a mis-
take and try to apologize when his face and chest were a
mass of broiled meat. "Give him as much water as he can
take," I said to Marika. "He shouldn't become dehydrated."
Marika didn't need my advice, but a straw in Gordon's
mouth would also keep him from talking.
I reached down and drew Marika up to a standing posi-
tion. She came willingly, holding tightly to me for a long,
silent moment. She was a strong, independent young woman,
yet feminine enough to accept comforting. I hadn't planned
to be chivalrous; I wanted to get her away from Gordon so
he wouldn't overbear what I had to say.
"You're doing wonderfully, honey," I whispered. "No one
could ask for better care." The wetness where her cheek
pressed against my neck was from her tears.
"l am sorry also that I doubted you," she sniffed. "Not
much, Nikko, but more than you deserved."
I dipped my head so my lips brushed her ear. "Grab hold,
now. I've got some bad news." Her body stiffened slightly. "I
think we've been stood up. The only one left outside is Takis.
The others have gone. You'd better head for the hills your.
self."
She broke out in light laughter. "Oh, Nikko, dear Nikko.
You do not understand. I sent them off
not to run away
• but to scout and bring back news. No, we do not stop
now. We must continue. But I am grateful that you worry
for me."
She gave me a kiss which started as a token of thanks. It
finished as much more, leaving us both a little breathless
when she pulled away.
"I've made a bad mistake," I confessed with a grin. ' 'NO
one in his right mind would ever want to leave you."
I was halfway back to the farmhouse when Evans emerged
from it. "Everything fixed?' I asked.
"Better come along, sir. What I've been told concerns you
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as well as Gordon. I have to tell him first, then he's supposed
to relay something to you. Is he up to it?"
"He's got an iron constitution, but it won't keep him going
unless he gets help."
Evans stood aside to let me enter the shed first. He then
followed. me to where Gordon was half-sitting up, bolstered
by a cushion of straw Marika had packed behind him. "You
can hear me all right?" Evans asked the bandaged Gordon.
Gordon bobbed his head.
"l donit like having to say this," Evans began, "but all the
arguing I did only got me static from Bluebird control. They
say that regardless of casualties, we have to go ahead. And
you'll have to hold out because Bluebird can't risk exposing
themselves, They aren't yet in a position to reach us. If
necessary, we're to abandon anyone who can't keep up."
the way it works," Gordon confirmed without
'That's
emotion or rancor. "Any specific instructions?"
"Nothing. Just to carry on. No more contact except
planned schedules. Otherwise, maintain radio silence. Oh,
. we're to move out, pronto. We've been here too
yeah .
long. Radio intercept reports some Greek chatter about an
unauthorized transmitter being heard. That's us, of course.
And then about Mr. Carter. He's—
Gordon interrupted. "I know. He was telling us straight?
"Yeah," confirmed Evans. €'And he's to stay with us." 'hen
he leaned close to Gordon and said. something I couldn't
hear. Takis had cranked up the truck engine at that moment.
Gordon shifted his position with great effort. The eye-slits
in his face bandage focused on me. "You heard all that?"
g The first part," I answered. "As for the last, I'd just be
more excess baggage."
Gordon's voice became strong and took on some of its old
authority. "You're expected to .
. to render all possible as-
sistance." ne long sentence took much of his strength. He
gasped a breath, then said: 'Tell him. Tell him the rest,
Evans. Off to one side."
The radioman moved to a far corner and waited. "What's
so special?" I asked when I stood next to him.
Evans' reply was just above a whisper. "You told me not
to pass along how Gordon got burned, so the folks we're
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dealing with and the staff in Athens don't know you've lost
the cipher gear."
When pulled back under the impact of his accurate guess
as to what had been in the rotor bag, Evans hastened to add:
"It's all right, sir. I'm crypto cleared. Even if I didn't know
exactly what was in that booby-trapped bag, from my radio
contacts I've learned it was badly needed in the com center
in Athens. Here's the hang-up, though: You're supposed to
forget the rush about delivering those spare parts and stay
with this team. This business takes precedence."
"By whose authority?" I said aloud.
Evans continued to whisper. "Believe mes sir, even if
you're a GS-22, you're outranked by a hell of a lot of brass.
I've been directed to give you assurances that whoever start-
ed you on this trip originally is going to be informed of the
change in your itinerary and that they'll go along with it.
That should tell you how important this 'job is and how pow-
erful the people backing this effort are. There aren't many
back in Washington with the clout to push around the folks
who probably sent you here. I'm sorry, sir, but you're to be
told you have no choice in the matter."
"I don't like it at all," I complained.
' 'Why don't you look at it this way," reasoned Evans. "For
a little while no one is going to know that the equipment
down in Athens is going to be permanently deadlined because
your little black box went up in smoke, You can guess what
kinds of questions that you'll be asked when the people who
sent you here find out what happened. My guess is that the
stuff in that bag was pretty scarce crypto gear. What makes
your situation worse is that it was lost through friendly rather
than hostile action."
I didn't know whether Evans was sincere or needling me.
What he had outlined were cold, chilling facts. If ever got
back to Washington, there was no way to keep from facing
Theo Cole and equally close-minded members of a National
Security Agency investigating board. Under the circum-
stances, Hawk wouldn't raise an eyebrow or lift a finger in
my behatf. The low profile and integrity of AXE was an
overriding consideration. I'd just have to take my lumps at
the hands of some Federal judge who would try my case
behind closed doors.
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Still, that was better than facing an espionage charge in a
Greek military court.
I glared at Evans and saw the merest twinkle in his eyes.
"It looks like there's no good choice for me," I admitted. "I
might just as well leave the frying pan."
Evans went back to Gordon and spoke a few words, Then
Gordon beckoned to me with a gauze-swathed hand. "I did a
stupid thing. And I've left ... left you in . untenable posi-
tion. I'll take .
full blame .
. for what happened." His
breathing was labored.
"Take it easy,'" I said. "Just hang on. We'll look after you."
Gordon twisted from a stab of pain as he reached out over
the short space and wrapped trembling fingers around my
wrist. "Yes. You must move out. But ... listen first. While I
can tell you."
He was using up energy fast, but he insisted on speaking
his piece. So I listened.
"You understand that you've been ...
put in charge?
Don't argue
not with me. You have to take over."
I said.
"Only until someone else can be brought it,"
The wrapped hand squeezed my wrist with a strength that
surprised me. "There won't be .
. anyone else. No time. No
one briefed. General Rudetsky ...
get him
at-any cost.
You must know why but Greeks here .
. must not
told. Am I . making this clear?"
I nodded affirmatively and jiggled my wrist.
"Now
most important thing. Need to interrogate
Rudetsky. When you catch up
if he won't surrender .
to answer questions you kill him. Got that? He talks or
he's killed."
Political assassinations were the almost exclusive peroga•
tive of AXE. I couldn't help but ask, '*Just murder him?"
"Liquidate . if raw words upset you. You won't have
to do it. Marika can take care of •it."
I was so astonished by his words that I almost forgot his
critical condition. I had to learn more. "The doctor you
thought me to be—what was he to do?"
"He was expert in use of exotic drugs like pheno-
dectalene and laxadone. Aids interrogation. Induces cooper-
ation. Now ... have to do without."
The rare drugs Gordon named were familiar to me. I
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knew their potency. Without them, I doubted anything could
be accomplished -with a resistant general. Gordon's team
wouldn't have included a doctor to adminster truth drugs if
background studies on Rudetsky hadn't revealed that he
would he highlv •resistant to interrogation. "You still expect
Rudetsky to talk?"
g 'It may take
a little time. But you'll have ways to coax
him."
"Yeah? How?" I wanted to know how far Gordon was au-
thorized to go.
"Torture. Plain
old-fashioned torture. Leave it . to
Marika. If you get queasy
take a walk."
I •ve been placed in some kill-or-be-killed situations by
AXE, but each time my opponents either forced me to react
or were deserving of death. Gordon's ruthless instructions
were both unjustified and repulsive.
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CHAPTER TWELVE
I became conscious of excited voices behind me. Marika
was listening intently to Jeorgos' and Vlarkas' hurried report.
Both were perspiring and breathing heavily from having
pushed themselves hard to retum as quickly as they could
from wherever they had gone. After the stacatto exchange of
questions and short answers, Marika joined me where I
crouched next to Gordon.
"We must leave here at once. A military patrol has been
sent out to scour the area."
"How do you know?"
S' We have friends among the villagers and farmers. It is
through them that Jeorgos has also learned that the party we
seek has made good progress. We will have to move quickly
if we are to catch the Rumanian general."
"Are you sure about the soldiers? How do we know that
they are looking for us?'
Gordon's knee pushed against my leg. "She's sure," he coh-
firmed. "Her people know." I didn't see how the man could
bear to listen to anything but his own moans.
"Okay," I agreed, "We've been traced, but a radio fix isn't
that accurate to pinpoint us right here. I'd like to know how
they smelled us out."
Marika resented my questioning her sources. "Not every-
one in these hills knows our purpose. Many, out of fear, hold
nothing back when they're questioned by the police. The
black Citroen, the car that brought Gordon here from
Athens last night, was noticed. An unfamiliar passenger car,
especially with Athens license plates, is easily remembered. It
take little imagination to guess what it was doing, then figur-
ing backward, the time would coincide with the time we fled
from Athens."
Gordon's knee nudged me again. I bent down to hear him.
"Marika . also. Want her to hear, too."
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I waved her over. She knelt down, crowding her head close
to mine. "You understand," Gordon rasped, "that you must
follow Carter now." Marika nodded and clasped my hand
with her own. "You tell tell your men. They must under-
stand. They must agree."
' 'I will tell them," promised Marika.
"Now before before we leave," insisted Gordon.
Marika sprang to her feet and stepped over to Jeorgos and
Vlarkas. I looked over my shoulder to watch her make the
announcement. The reaction of both men was negative. Both
were reluctant to accept the change in leadership, especially
to someone with whom they had had sharp confrontations.
Marika was going to have to be persuasive. She began speak*
ing louder and gesticulating with her hands.
Gordon's notion that he could remain with the party posed
another problem. I turned back to him. "You can't be serious
about going along. You couldn't stand it. We'll take you
down to the village below. There should be a telephone
there."
"No! Absolutely not!"
I had to press gently against Gordon's shoulder to keep
him from struggling to his feet. He ignored both my hand
and the pain. It must have been utter agony, but he raised
himself nearly erect. The exertion cost him a lot. He gasped
risk leaving me behind. Dead or
for breath. "You cant . ..
I'd be blazing a trail for your pursuit. I
alive. I'd
won't won't slow you down."
"You'll kill yourself!" I protested.
"Only chance for me for all of us. Gotta go along.
You need only one more day. After that—" He stopped
talking and leaned heavily against the wall behind him.
Marika's voice at my shoulder startled me. 'They've finally
agreed. They'll do whatever you say."
"No questions?"
"No. I knew Uncle Jeorgos would accept in time. He will
do anything for me. Vlarkas refused until he overheard Gor-
don insist that he will go along. I think that persuaded him."
She pulled me a step away from Gordon and dropped her
voice. "I don't know if keeping Gordon is a -good thing,
Nikko. He will be a big burden."
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"We should leave him. Can't we hide him with someone in
the village?"
"Then we might as well wait with him right here. He will
be found anywhere in the village. Then the soldiers will help
him die unless he tells them what they want. They would
make him talk. We Greeks know how to hurt people."
"So I've been told." Nevertheless, I couldn't quite picture
Marika as a black-hooded torturer.
"Even if Gordon remained silent, their mere discovery of
him would be positive proof that we'd been here—and from
here there is only one direction to go. We must take it now
Or we will be cut off." She glanced to one side. "O skata!"
she cried.
I spun around. Gordon was shuffng laboriously out of the
door, making his way to the truck. Kasner was walking
toward him, offering a supporting arm. Evans dashed into the
empty farmhouse.
By the time Marika and I caught up with the slow-moving
Gordon, Evans reappeared. His communications set was
packed and mounted on the backpack frame. Vlarkas and
Jeorgos barked orders. Takis sprang into the truck cab and
started the engine. The two sphinx-like members of the band
vaulted into the rear of the truck. When we reached it with
Gordon, they had already prepared a hastily-made mattres
by bunching together the old quilts.
Before Marika left to join Vlarkas and Takis in the front
seat, she brushed my cheek lightly with a kiss. "Stay well for-
ward with your American friends," she cautioned. ' 'We won't
pass many people, but those who see us will be curious. A
truck, even as old as this, is still a novelty this far from
paved roads. You must not be seen."
The narrow mountain road was little more than a trail. We
passed only a few donkey-drawn carts loaded with spindly
sticks of firewood or sweet-smelling hay. Takis drove care-
fully, handily dodging ruts where washouts from flooding
mountain showers had eroded away the gravel surface.
At least two hours of daylight remained when Takis
stopped at the edge of a tiny village. Marika appeared at the
back of the truck before it reached a full stop. I scurried to
her, keeping low and peering over the top of the tailgate.
"What's wrong?'
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"Nothing. This place is called Stimion, but it's not much
more than a crossroad. From' here the road is better and all
uphill. It ends not toofar away at the ridge of the mountain
at a village called Khysalla."
"Why stop?" I asked and moved aside so the two silent
Greeks could jump to the ground.
She rattled off something in her native tongue to tbe men,
then answered me. "We will, get some food and wine here.
We' mustn't block this road, so we will stop farther along to
eat. How is Mr. Gordon?"
"I can't understand how he does it. He must be suffering,
but he doesn't make a sound. Can't tell much about him. I'll
let him know what's going on."
Within ten minutes we were moving again. This time I sat
up front with Takis and Marika. Vlarkas suggested that he
ride in the rear after I mentioned Kasner•s command of
Greek might not be adequate enough in case the occupants in
the back had to exchange words. Jeorgos had acquired a na-
tive medicine, a dark, syrupy-iooking liquid which he wanted
to give to Gordon. At first, I objected. Then I relented after
Marika said it had a sedating and pain-relieving substance in
it. Vlarkas knew how to administer the drug.
As Marika had promised, the next section of road was
much improved. It was wide enough for two-way traffc in
most places. It wound upward and around the sunny south-
western side of the 9,000-foot mountain. The wind was blow-
ing, causing the boxy truck to sway from side to side on the
narrow road. Takis gave occasional g•unts as he countered
the abrupt swerves with strong tugs at the steering wheel. He
was expert, and despite the frightening lack of guardrails
along the edge of the roadway, where precipitous drops of
hundreds of feet were common, I was confident ube could
hold his own-on the road.
From where we were, at a height of perhaps 7,000 feet,
we could see to the west for many miles. The sun was still
bright but had begun to take on a muted color as it reached
the upper edge of a haze layer that stretched from horizon to
horizon. Below us, the mountain dropped away steeply to a
wide, fiat plain with a few foothills. As far as the eye could
see, the ground was cultivated. There were no large farms,
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only patches of vegetation and olive orchards. 'Ihe air below
us was still.
C'Let's stop here," Marika suggested. She pointed to a wide
Vlace in the road I wouldn't have considered as an overlook
area. With the limited travel on this road, one could stop
anywhere and not impede traffc. She didn't wait for my cone
sent. Marika called out, 'Takis, stasu eki-peraP'
The stocky driver pulled over, bringing the old van to
stop. Everyone piled out and shared the simple fare collected
from the village. I visited Gordon, taking with me a long-
necked bottle of pale, white wine. He appeared to be resting
easily. His breathing was regular, though shallow. Whatever
it was that Jeorgos had obtained from the village midwife, it
had beneficial opiate qualities.
I left Gordon and went back to sit on the edge of the road
with Marika. She and Vlarkas were having an argument. He
refused to speak English in my presence, so I had an idea
what I might be the subject of their disagreement. From the
vay he kept giving me sour looks, I suspected he still was
not happy about having to cooperate with a substitute leader.
My acceptance by Marika as more than a puppet under Gor-
don's control may have stirred up more differences.
I changed course and walked to the front of the truck
where Kasner and Evans were leaning against the high
bumper. Evans was all smiles. "%is Greek wine isn't at ail
bad." He waved the bottle loosely, sloshing the greatly re-
duced contents.
One thing I didn't need was a half-drunken radio man. I
already had all the grief I could handle. I took the bottle
from Evans and passed it to Kasner. "Save the rest of that
for me, will you?'
He nodded with a faint smile. I took it as an approval of
my actions. Using the tapered neck of the bottle as x pointer,
he jabbed it uphill. "If you want to drink this in private, we'd
better get everyone back in the truck. Here comes company."
A large, green-painted bus was- approaching. It was a good
half-mile away and had to negotiate two sharp curves before
it reached us. The driver was keeping his speed well down. A
prudent practice; these mountain roads were wearing on
brakes. "Go tell the others," I said to Kasner. "Take Evans
with you."
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ne bus slowed and disappeared behind a curve which bent
in toward the mountain. I kept watching where the vehicle
would reappear. It finally did, but now it was barely creep-
inge A moment later it stopped. The bus appeared to be
empty after a single passenger alighted. It was a while before
the cumbersome vehicle began rolling again; the driver and
passenger took a long time to say goodbye.
By that time, Takis was back behind the big steering
wheel. The others were settled in the rear once more. Marika
waited for me beside the open cab door. "You'd better
sit between us," she advised.
I got in. Marika followed* I looked up to peer
through the windshield, the bus was no longer in sight. "It's
behind the curve up ahead," Marika said.
"Okay," I said. "Let's roll it."
"Piyenomay!" Marika translated into Greek.
Takis badn't completed shifting gears when the green bus
careened around the curve ahead. It was moving at high
speed now, hurtling along and straddling the center of the
road. I had only a moment to judge, but it didn't seem that
the driver had lost control. He was deliberately keeping to
the middle of the road. Takis laid on the horn and quickly
flashed the headlights on and off. The bus driver ignored both
warnings. He kept coming.
Takis slowed and steered as close to the edge of the road
as possible. The shoulder ended with a sheer, six-foot drop
before the slope below flared out. Once launched over that
sharp precipice, the hillside grade below it would keep the
truck tumbling until it reached the valley floor.
The bus kept barreling toward us at terrific speed. nere
wasn't nearly enough room left on our side of the road to
permit two vehicles to pass. Unless the bus veered aside,
there was going to be a head-on collision. I threw my arms
around Marika in what I knew was an instinctive but futile
attempt to protect her.
Turned sideways as I was, I didn't see what happened. I
only felt and beard it.
I pitched forward as Takis locked the brakes. There was a
loud rush of air. Both vehicles had missed smashing full on,
but the reprieve lasted less than a second. Then a rending,
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tearing crash blotted out all other sound. ne tan end of the
roaring bus sideswiped the rear quarter of the truck.
The door on Marika's side flew open. My arms were sud-
denly empty. I rammed into the door frame with my shoul-
der and started to cough and choke from dust billowing up
from the road.
I heard shouts from the rear. The back of the truck had
been pushed off the shoulder; it dropped suddenly and
pitched some of the riders out' on the hillside. Part of the
bedlam was contributed by Takis. He was hanging onto the
steering wheel for support, unhurt but snarling loud curses.
When the truck's gyrations finally ceased, it had angled
over on its side, propped half on and half off the road. The
cab doors were five feet above ground level; the rear was
resting on the scarred, torn earth of the mountain slope. The
truck was balanced precariously on the lip of the six-foot-
high embankment.
I fell, rather than jumped, from the cab. I half-rolled
downhill, but managed to halt my descent on my feet. I was
thinking of Marika, but the first thing I saw was Jeorgos
standing tall at the rear of the tilted truck with his rifle up to
his shoulder. He was aiming at the racing, swaying bus that
was speeding downhill.
His effort was futile. I doubted that he was marksmqn
enough to hit a receding target. Worse yet, the shot would
echo like a thunderclap in these quiet mountains. We might
as well send up a parachute fare to reveal our position. I had
to stop him from firing, and I had time to do only one thing.
I made a wild leap forward with my arms extended. My
upraised palms rammed into the hip of the rugged Greek.
I was too late. If anything, I had jarred him into firing the
rifle. The gun went off. The shot boomed up and down the
valley like the rumble of an Alpine avalanche.
The wind that picked up the noise was an ill one that blew
us no good. The reverberating echoes reminded me of the q-
nal volley fired over a dead hero's grave.
We weren't heroes yet, and I was much less inclined to
make bets on our longevity.
Without transportation, stranded on foot in unfriendly
mountains with night coming on, and pursuit not far be-
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hind, the situation was not one that inspired optimism.
With at least one of our party injured, and now, perhaps
more, our chances for escape were diminishing.
I felt completely without hope.
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CHAPTER THIRTEEN
When I went around checking for casualties, I found
Marika close by. She came to smiling, unmindful of a
few visible bruises and scratches. Kasner hobbled up, walking
with a decided limp. "Looks like everyone's okay," he re-
ported.
"How about Gordon?" r asked.
"Not too bad, luckily. He was half-unconscious and com-
pletely relaxed from whatever Vlarkas fed him. He's got a
gash on one leg, but it's not much more than a deep scratch.
He's beginning to groan again, though."
C'How about the others?'
*Tough as mules. More angry than hurt. And boiling mad
because all the wine bottles were broken."
"Evans?"
"I haven't seen him."
Without Evans and his radio, our situation would be im-
possible. "We've got to find him," I insisted. "Start locking
around."
Marika discovered him first. He was almost completely
hidden in a thick clump of roadside bushes where his
backpack had come to rest after being flung out of the truck.
He had stripped off the canvas covering and was carefully exe
amining the equipment.
"How's it look?" I asked.
His face was raw on one side. It looked as though his
cheek had been scrubbed with sandpaper: Blood oozed from
the wound. The eye above his scraped cheek was going to
blossom into a king-sized shiner. The knuckles of both his
hands were bleeding.
Evans ignored his injuries. "Can't tell until I actually try to
pick up something on the air, but the transmitter looks all
right. These all-transistor units are tough. The walkie-talkie
pair checks out and the auto-beacon is okay." One after an-
other he shoved the loose radio parts into the pockets in the
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canvas cover. ne walkie-talkie transceivers were no larger
than a box used to hold standard three-inch kitchen matches.
While Evans finished packing his gear, everyone assembled
around the spot below the shoulder of the road where Gor-
don had been placed with his back to a huge boulder. He
seemed more alert and interested in his surroundings. "Who
fired that shot?' he asked.
I explained briefly. Vs.men he learned that the fruck bad
been forced off the road, he stared intently at its canted bulk
short distance away. "Real Jonah
. aren't I?" he
wheezed. "Rotten luck ... with me around. WI)at now?
Truck's no good."
I didn't know if he was able to see All that clearly or if he
had reached his conclusion by smelling the still-strong odor of
spilled gasoline. The underside fuel tank had been ruptured
when the truck lurched off the high road shoulder. The flam-
mable liquid had soaked a large patch of ground.
"Makes an appropriate monument to a colossal failures" I
observed.
"Not licked yet," coughed Gordon. "Get 'em moving."
He started to get to his feet, but couldn't make it.
"Hold on," I snapped. "You're in no shape to move."
"Hell, I'm not!" Gordon argued. "Nothin' wrong with
my legs. LA's get out of here."
I took Marika and Kasner aside. Vlarkas joined without
invitation. "That stubborn fool is going to keep at us until we
get him his man, or kill himself trying," I said. "Maybe both.
How much farther before we reach a point where we can cut
off Rudetsky?"
Marika looked at Vlarkas. He in turn looked up at the sur-
rounding hills. "Ten. perhaps twelve kilometers," he pre-
dieted.
Six or seven rnnes. "Can we make it before dark?'
"Hardly," Vlarkas answered. "Nor would it be necessary.
There is time yet before the people you want arrive at a
good intercept point."
Jeorgos had come up and tugged at Marika's sleeve. He
drew her aside and spoke with her in undertones, Marika
kept nodding her head. The two came back together.
"Jeorgos disagrees with Vlarkas," Marika explained.
"How's that? I thought he didn't understand English."
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NICK CARTER: RI'LLMASTER
"He know numbers—up to ten or so, and 'kilometer' is
much the same in any language. He says the distance still to
travel is more than Vlarkas' estimates."
"How much more?"
"An extra four or five kilometers."
Jeorgos nodded his head gravely.
"That's only another couple of miles," I calculated aloud.
Inwardly, I was thinking that a couple of miles added to six
was going to make a hard walk.
"It's no chore for us," Marika said, "but if Gordon insists
on going along, we will not get far before night comes. And
Mr. Evans with his heavy pack ...
he will go slowly and
need help. We must stay clear of well-traveled paths. ne
few people in this area notice strangers and are easily in-
Emidated by soldiers."
Jeorgos added something. Marika interpreted. "Yes, Jeor-
gog is right. We will be better off away from the road, be-
cause then the pursuit must also come on foot. We can travel
faster On the mountain than the soldiers can. We know where
we are going; they have to keep finding our tran. Even with
our extra burdens, we should be able to keep ahead."
Takis came up at a run. Rapid words tumbled from his
mouth. "We must hurry," Marika warned. ßThe passengers
who were forced off the bus are coming down the road. We
must not be seen by them?'
The fact that the bus had had passengers before it bad
come at us cemented in my mind and confirmed the suspi-
cion that the wayward bus had been hijacked go it could be
used as a missile against our truck. The attack had been set
in advance. Someone was getting desperate in his attempts
to keep us from reaching Rudetsky. If my guess was right,
the lone passenger we had seen leaving the* bus before it be-
gan its deliberate assault was working with whomever hoped
to thwart Gordon's effort.
There must have been some telepathic rapport among
Marika's men. When I reached the rear of the delicately bal-
anced truck, Gordon was already lashed to a hastily-made lit.
ter fashioned from straight sections of the broken bows that
had supported the covering tarpaulin. The tarpaulin itself had
been ripped into panels to form the bed of the litter. Gordon
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voiced a mild protest when he saw me. He didn't chide me
when I ignored him.
The blankets from the rear of the truck were folded into
easily-carried bundles by tying them with canvas strips also
made from the tarpaulin. There was nothing else to salvage.
At our first push, the truck began to sway. We rocked it
two more times, each effort tilting the creaking body more.
On the third back-swing, Takis quickly removed a wedging
boulder that was preventing the vehicle from tumbling down-
hill at the time of impact.
Loud grunts accompanied our third forward push. The
truck toppled, picked up momentum, and somersaulted down
the slope, crashing through bushes and bounding off rocks.
All Of us watched until the cartwheeling tmck disappeared in
a deep gorge, leaving behind a misty trail of dust. Takis was
the last one to turn away.
Vlarkas took the lead. two laconic Greeks carrying
Gordon's litter were directly behind him. They set a surpris-
ingly fast paces sure-footed as mountain goats. Evans, with
his heavy pack* was hard pressed to keep up, but be would
not relinquish his load to anyone. His pride would lessen as
his weariness increased.
Marika's stride was smooth and steady. The backs of her
legs flashed pink in the lowering sun. Jeorgos brought up the
rear. He occasionally dropped from sight only to be seen a
short time later on one flank or the other. *Ihe elderly Greek
was a natural woodsman whom I guessed had at one time re-
ceived military training.
After a hard, steady climb, which had covered about three
miles, we reached the highest point of the' ridge we were to
cross. We rested there. Another hour of daylight remained al-
though the valleys ahead of us were blue with evening shad-
ows.
The halt was hardly long enough. Gordon was the most
impatient traveler, wanting to keep going. I moved away
from him so he couldn't argue with me atxøut the stop.
Marika followed me, unlimbering her blanket bundle and
dropping it next to where I flopped on the ground. Then she
sat on it. "It is bard going for those who are not used to the
hills and this height," she commented.
"How high are we?"
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'Two thousand, perhaps twenty-two hundred 'meters."
six thousand feet. I can feel it." The thin air lacked
the oxygen I was accustomed to at sea level.
' 'The mountainside goes steadily downward from here.
Just over that next ridge, not very far beyond it, is the sea.
It will be somewhere along that ridge that we will ambush
your general."
"Ambush? Can't we just move up on him without having a
skirmish?"
"It is best to plan for the worst. Tomorrow we will know
more. And also tomorrow we must act, or our prey will
evade capture. He will, if we do not cover more ground to-
day. Mr. Gordon's anxiety to keep moving is well-founded."
"l think this is going to be another case of too little too
late."
' 'We must not give up," Marika said. "You would not want
to see failure after so much effort is expended. There is much
you still do not appreciate. Many people besides us are in-
volved. There are many who are risking much to help you
Americans succeed. We cannot let .their efforts go to waste."
She placed a soft hand against my cheek.
Greeks are a foolish, proud people. They are confident in
themselve€, sometimes to the point of being blind to
own danger. I saw all the stubborn independence in the
ple I was with—that, and their dedication to their cause. But
now, they needed a leader, and I was it. Their very indepen,
dence—Vlarkas', Jeorgos', and the others'---would make this
a group of leaders without me at this point.
As though reading my mental evaluation, Marika spoke
up. "Without you here, we would all go our separate ways. I
suspect that men like Vlarkag might try to capture Rudetsky
on their own, partly because we know the Americans will pay
much for him. Others would pay, too. Not very much if be
were brought in dead, but a good deal if turned over alive."
The mercenary side was something else to consider.
"Someone in Washington goofed," I remarked. "lnstead of
getting involved directly, they should have made a deal with
you and sat back until you delivered." Under David Hawk's
astute direction, AXE would have done it that way.
"That would be risky," Marika explained. -"We Greeks
sometimes don't work well together. Only an American,
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whom some of us still trust, could bring cooperation among
us in a situation like this. Mr. Gordon, for all his faults, had
one important strength. He represented your government and
he will see that we get paid." She patted my cheek lightly
again and got to her feet, "There is less than an hour of day-
light left before we must stop again. Tomorrow will be a
very hard day."
I stood up. I felt as if I had trudged a hundred miles.
Kasner picked himself up reluctantly. We formed into single
file without speaking a word. This time Jeorgos took the
point. Vlarkas brought up the rear.
The downhill course was easier, not necessarily faster.
Jeorgos found a footpath. But it was still hard to follow in
the fast-fading light. At least it was smoother than a rock-
strewn hillside. Jeorgos automatically lengthened his stride.
Kasner and Evans had difficulty keeping up. I replaced Alex,
one of the taciturn Greeks, at one end of Gordon's litter so
Evans could transfer his load to Dimitrios, the other silent
one, who accepted the burden without comment.
I thought Vlarkas would overrun us as we made the
switch, but he didn't. I looked back along the path. No one
was in sight. I wondered how long our rear had been left un-
guarded.
A few minutes later, Vlarkas stepped out onto the trail in
front of us. He was a mere silhouette in the gathering dusk. I
didn't understand what he said. Marika, behind me, trans-
lated. "Hess found a shepherd's cave just off the trail ahead.
With a small stream nearby."
"Weill stop there," I said after seeing Marika was waiting
for me to voice the logical decision. "It will probably get
chilly later on, but we'd better not risk a fire."
"A small one would not hurt," she said. "Enough to heat
water for tea."
"Tea?"
ßJeorgos brought some from the village where we stopped.
We might find something more to eat packed in the blanket
rolls. It's seldom that a mountain man goes hungry."
The mouth of the spacious cave had a blackened roof
from fires burned under it over possibly centuries of use.
Marika gave each of us strong, sweet tea served in turn from
three communal tin cups. Where the battered utensils, includ-
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ing the dented, bail-handled pot used to boil the water, came
from was a mystery. There was also a magical quality about
the way thick slices of highly-spiced sausage, hard cheese,
and hunks of heavy, dark bread appeared.
More than the food, I appreciated the opportunity to bathe
in the cool, running water of the stream. It wasn't until I
scrubbed my face with my hands that r realized I needed a
shave. The stubble was long enough to have become soft. I
was going to have to put in a claim for a new custom shav-
ing kit if somehow my waylaid valpack had disappeared com-
pletely.
Without any signal, one after another of the group began
wrapping a blanket around himself and finding a place to
sleep in the cave. Marika remained close to Gordon, feeding
hims encouraging him to remain quiet, and giving him doses
of the primitive medicine which reduced his discomfort. He
soon fell asleep.
Before the small fire at the mouth of the cave burned outi
I rounded up Marika, Kasner, and Evans. "We're going to
have to stand watch," I explained. "One person patroling the
trail ought to do it. We've enough personnel so each one will
pull a one hour shift. No one will fall asleep on post in that
short a time, and no one loses much sleep. We need all the
rest we can get."
The only objection came from Marika when told her she
wasnst to be included. "I walk as well as a man, and I can
fight as well as man. I will take my turn at guard, too," she
said sharply.
"No," replied firmly. "You sleep near Gordon. If he
needs attention during the night, you look after him."
Marika didn't jump with delight, but she didn't object, ei-
ther. She accepted her assignment as a proper one.
I didn't sleep hard. When I awoke, the cave entrance was
a blacker ring of darkness against a star-dotted sky. I expect-
ed to be tapped on the shoulder by Dimitrios whose tum I
was to follow as guard, Dim movement at the cave entrance
attracted my attention, It wasn't Dimitrios coming in for me.
Someone was leaving the cave.
I dropped my head back on my jacket, which I had folded
up to form a pillow, and closed my eyes. Then I sat up
straight. I shoved my feet into my shoes, snatched up my
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jacket, and tip-toed around sleeping figures to reach the front
of the cave. Gordon was snoring lightly. The space next to
him was vacant.
A slight breeze was blowing outside. The wind was damp.
hunched into my jacket and then listened. Dimitrios was
nowhere in sight.
Ihat brought on an uneasy feeling. I took Wilhelmina out
of my holster.. The familiar weapon felt comforting ili my
hand, but I realized a flashlight would be more helpful, too.
I moved along the path slowly, going downhill in the direc-
tion I thought Marika had taken. I kept listening, but heard
nothing.
A few steps farther along, a sound reached me. The
crunch of a rock rolling downhill and the dry rustle of bushes
marked the source. I ran forward quickly.
Two figures were struggling, now making enough noise to
carry some distance. I immediately recoknized Marika. Her
long black hair was flying with every twist of her bobbing
head. The arm-locked pair fell to the ground and rolled up
against my leg. I reached down with my free hand and
grabbed a fistful of loose clothing wom by Marika's assailant.
I jabbed the Luger's cold muzzle into his neck with my
other hand. The wrestling match ceased abruptly.
"What's going on here?" I demanded.
Marika pulled down her skirt to cover her exposed thighs
as she sat up. 'That's Vlarkas' man, Dimitrios," she said
breathlessly.
I rotated my hand, forcing Dimitrios' head around. Hig
cold, unemotional eyes over tightly compressed lips stared
back at me defiantly. He seemed to understand that Marika
was making accusations. He responded in one of the rare
times I had heard his voice. It was high-pitched in relation to
his sturdy build. Words tumbled out so fast that all were
meaningless to me. He made no move to escape from my
grasp, but he gestured toward Marika and kept babbling.
"Can anyone join in?" asked a voice behind mes which I
recognized as Kasner's. "I heard the commotion clear back at
the cave. You want the whole world to hear?"-
I hadn't thought we were that noisy. "l can't tell what's
going on," I answered. "It looked like Marika was being at-
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tacked. I found both of them on the ground with Dimitrios
on top of her?'
Dimitlios began speaking again. This time he appealed to
Kasner.
"Can you make out what he's saying?" I asked.
Kasner silenced me with an upraised hand. He questioned
Dimitrios in slow, well-modulated Greek. Dimitrios answered
enthusiastically in his native tongue.
I let go of Dimitrios and helped Marika to her feet. She
came up easily, remaining close to me. Her shoulder pressed
against my chest. "I was awake," she explained. "I saw Dimi-
trios bend down next to Vlarkas as if they were talking.
When Dimitrios left, I thought he was going to leave the
area. So I followed him. He had gotten this far before he dis-
covered me behind him. He just swung around and grabbed
me." Marika pressed against me. I put an arm around her
and could feel her shivering, although her shoulder under her
thin blouse was warm.
'Well, what did he say?" I inquired of Kasner when he
faced me.
"Near as I can figure out, it's a case of mistaken identity
or misinterpreted purpose. He says he saw Marika coming
away from the cave and he was going to follow her. He
didn't have any romantic intentions. He says Vlarkas would
kill him if he made a pass. He knows Vlarkas has staked out
first claim on her."
As Kasner interpreted, I wondered why he was the only
person roused by the noise. And I wondered how he had got-
ten down the path to where we were so rapidly. Thinking
back, I couldn't recall having seen him in the cave when I
crept out. All of a sudden, it seemed that a great many peo•
ple were wandering around.
I was beginning to be distrustful of everyone. My suspicion
of Kasner was only one of a number of symptoms that this
whole unsettling business was getting to me.
I herded everyone back to the cave. My watch told me
that sunrise was still more than an hour away. I didn't think I
could sleep again, anyway. Evans still had a watch to pull, so
I awakened him early. Of all choices, I now felt he could be
trusted most.
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"When was the last time you pulled deck watch aboard
ship?"
"Must have been six years ago."
"Well, keep a sharp lookout fore and aft. If anything at all
unusual happens, let me know. I'm going to take a look
around the area just to double check. Don't get trigger-happy
for the next half hour."
"Aye, aye. sir," Evans replied in a whisper.
I went upslope along the narrow part for a hundred yards,
moving slowly and listening more than looking. In a short
time my eyes adjusted to the faint starlight and I felt more
secure.
I left the trail and mounted the hill, circling around well
above the cave location. Directly above the cave mouth, I
found a large, flat terrace of open, smooth rock. It was an
unusual formation, bare of all undergrowth. It loomed ex-
tremely large in the heavy darkness.
I paced across it to its edge. ne bald outcropping ended
above the mouth of the cave, overhanging in such a way that
the vast open area where I was standing was not visible from
below. The small mesa, ringed on three sides by man-high
trees, was so flat and extensive that it reminded me of a mis-
sile launching pad. The parallel was enhanced by my imagi-
nation and inadequate light to make out details.
The wide arc I took around the camp site finally brought
me back to the trail some distance below the cave level. I
was warm from the exertion and wide awake. I was also sat-
igfied that the area was secure.
I turned back and climbed upward along the path, giving
most of my attention to the slope•falling away from the trail.
At one point I stopped. I thought I heard movement. It
didn't come from the darkness below the path; it seemed to
be ahead where a shoulder-high clump of leafy scrub oak
grew. I approached it cautiously, gun in hand.
A shadow moved. "Who's there?" I hissed.
"It is me, Marika.t'
"What the hell are you doing out here again?"
"Watching out for you." She stood wrapped in her blanket
taken from the cave. A screen of branches between us made
her form indistinct.
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"I'm all right. Evans is standing guard. You should be
with Gordon."
"Oh, Nikko, you are mistaken. Evans is a good sort, but
not trained to be a watchman in the mountains. I went right
by him unnoticed." •She reached out and pushed my hand
holding Wilhelmina to one side. 'There is no need for that.
We are safe. No one is near."
Her hand wrapped around my wrist and pulled me toward
her. "I am frightened, darling. I fear for tomorrow." She
drew me into the small bower surrounded by gently rustling
leaves.
Marika lowered herself to the ground. She held out ber
arms •to me. "Come, Nikko. Make me happy once again. I
have a great need for you."
I captured Marika's busy hands, pushed her down on her
back, and held her there with a palm pressing on her rounded
belly. She moved under my touch sensuously, her black eyes
staring up at me hungrily. I let my hand wander over her as
she unbuttoned and removed her clothes until her warm and
naked body was waiting for me. I lay down next to her. She
molded her delicious curves firmly against me.
My caresses became more urgent. Marika's hands were ex-
ploring me now, and soon our roving hands under the blan-
ket filled us both with fleshy stimulation.
Marika squirmed, gasping with mounting passion, as I low-
ered myself over her, thrusting inside of her with steady
movements that she met with her own. The blanket was
flung back.
Our lovemaking turned into a long, leisurely and fulfilling
experience with both of us surging up to and retreating from
a breathless pinnacle, until Marika could contain herself no
longer.
Her thrusting hips ignited. me. She matched my climax
with hoarse gasps, clenching her fingers into my flesh, shud-
dering uncontrollably.
Together we zoomed to unlimited heights, losing our senses
in a whirlwind of compete abandonment where stars explod-
ed within and around us.
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CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The crimson sun rising out of the sea and cresting the dis-
tant hill to the east lighted the valley that lay at our feet. It
was a wide, sandy area which contained a winding, dry river-
bed. Water coursed through it only during heavy springtime
rains. One bank was cultivated. A long, narrow olive tree or-
chard ran parallel to the rocky stream bed. Some distance to
the north, where the ground was partially obscured by morn-
ing mist, lay a small vineyard.
The warmth of the new day was welcome. It was too early
to decide whether the day would remain sunny or turn
gloomy. Word brought back by Jeorgos from his early morn-
ing surveillance of the area suggested an eventual cloud
cover. He had learned that the military force trailing us had
bivouacked in the nearby mountain village. Reinforcements
had arrived. The group was now twenty-strong with an off-
cer in charge.
Before we left the cave I assembled everyone and told
them my plan. It was more an outline of the situation. I had
to make some show of organization and an apparent objec-
tive. "Evans will stay here with Gordon. They should be safe
in the cave. According to Jeorgos, the soldiers will be cover-
ing ground from the village to the sea, meaning that they will
hardly come this way."
While I talked, Marika translated. Vlarkas listened intently
to both my instructions and Marika's interpretation. Alex dug
into his blanket bundle and extracted a battered drinking cup,
which he gave to Evahs. Dimitrios, seeing this, reached into
his pack and presented Evans with the bail-handle pot. Jeor-
gos, in turn, handed over the pouch that contained loose tea.
It was going more smoothly than I had hoped. "Evans will
keep a constant listening watch on his radio. Weill take the
walkie-talkie pair. Evans will tune one channel of his receiver
to their frequency so he'll hear us and we can talk to him if
necessary. At the same time, he'll keep a channel open to his
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outside contact and make the on-schedule report at the
proper time. Any useful information will be relayed to us
over the walkie-talkie frequency."
I tried to sound confident, hoping no one would ask ques-
tions about one part. I hadn't said what we'd do if we suc-
ceeded in capturing Rudetsky. Evans knew only what Gordon
had told him—that Bluebird Base would have final instruc-
tions once it was known that Rudetsky was safely in our
hands. Neither Evans nor Gordon were certain about the
identity of Bluebird Base. I assumed that the secret transmit-
ter Evans contacted was a clandestine radio manned by Gor-
don's CIA comrades. I wanted to make certain communica-
tions were maintained, so I advised Evans to climb up on the
large, open space roofing the shepherd's retreat • in the event
the walls of the cave cut down on his transmitting power or
clear reception.
Gordon did not object to his being left behind. He was in
no condition to, do otherwise. He could no longer move under
his own power. His bandages had become soaked through
with seeping blood and pus and the messy salve used on his
burns. Overnight, some areas had suppurated. The infection
gave off a purulent odor. The suffering man's courage in
bearing the pain was remarkable. His determination was
shown by his clamped, peeling lips. He opened them willingly
when Marika spooned out the last of the medicinal syrup to
ease his misery.
I asked everyone to check their weapons and leave behind
anything that would make noise or wasn't needed. Kasner
laughed upon hearing Marika's translation. "What's so
funny?" I asked, not having caught her words to the men.
Kasner leaned toward me. "She told them you said they
were all fine fighters and that you knew you could depend
upon them."
"What the hell did she say that for?"
"Because your telling them to; make sure their guns were
working would be an insult. These men have cleaner guns
than bodies." ne unmoving air in the cave last night had
confirmed Kasner's comparison.
It was time we left. I faced Vlarkas. "We'd better get
moving. Tell them not to bunch up and keep a sharp eye out.
You take the lead."
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I winced from a sudden pain in my shoulder. Marika had
seized my arm and spun me -around. She had a tiger's
strength when she was angry. Her tight-lipped face told me
she was furious. "You give your orders through me, not
Vlarkas!" she growled.
"Now, look, baby, you're staying here. Itss going to get
rough out there and there could be some shooting."
She pulled me deeper into the cave. "Nikko, you do not
listen well to what I say. These men, they will not stay with
you unless I am there. They will trust you only if I am along.
First, it was Gordon, but now you because Gordon has said
you are in charge. But it is also understood that only I deal
with the Americans for them. Not Vlarkas
not Jeorgos
only Marika Forlakis!"
"Then keep in touch with us through Evans' radio. Vlarkas
can do the translating for me. You don't have to go along.
I'd rather you didn't, really. You'll be much safer here."
Marika's eyes flashed again with hot anger. "I say this to
you once more, Nikko: I stay with my men, or we'll do this
without you. I need only snap my fingers to make you a
prisoner. Then you can stay with Mr. Gordon and Evans. We
will get Rudetsky and decide what to do with him." She
spoke in staccato bursts, her breasts heaving. She was deter-
mined to have her way.
"All right. All right!" I conceded. "But you stick close to
me. Now tell them to move out."
"011, Nikko
I knew you would understand." Her hard
look changed so rapidly into a smiling face that I wondered
how much of her demafd had been sincere and how much
was bluff. I refused to give in to the feeling that I'd been had.
The descent to the valley floor was trouble-free. We
reached it about the same time that full sunshine highlighted
the narrow, slate-green leaves of the olive trees in the or-
chard. The trees were bushier than I thought they would be.
They offered excellent shade.
I was ready to keep going, but Marika held me back. 'No,
Nikko, we must wait here." For a person supposedly running
the show, I was getting a lot of annoying advisors with ideas
of their own.
for?" 1 asked.
"Jeorgos."
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I remembered seeing him with us only minutes ago.
"What's he doing?"
'Coming up behind you."
I whirled around. The stealthy old Greek had to stoop to
clear the lowest branches of the trees. The midßle-aged man
who followed didn't. He couldn't have stood more than five
feet tall. He wore baggy black trousers, a plaid wool éhirt,
and a gray, sweater that •was far too large for him.
His costume looked as though it had come off the bargain
rack of a Goodwill store. Over one shoulder was slung a
goatskin wine bottle. He carried an ancient musket which
was nearly as long as he was tall. If he had a bit more hair
and beard surrounding his wizened, wrinkled face, he could
have passed for one of the more gruesome muppets of "IV
fame. His voice was as big as he was small—a deep basso
which sang out the names of his friends as he joined them.
"His name is Skordos," Marika said. "He has been follow-
ing the Communist general for five days. He is a tough one,
old Skordos, with the strength of a burro. You owe him
much. Come, shake his hand."
Marika introduced me. She was right about his strength. I
had to exert all the pressure I could to prevent him from
making pulp of my hand. He was unaware that he was hurt-
ing me; a normal handshake to him was a bone-crushihg
disaster for anyone else.
Everyone either squatted or sat cross-legged around Skow
dos while he rattled off an account of his adventures. He used
his hands as much as his mouth, frequently swinging them
high over his head to emphasize a point.
I grew impatient. When I nudged Marika's knee she patted
mine to counsel silence. Skordos passed the wine bottle
around. I would have refused, but I didn't want to affront
Greek hospitality. I watched each man's technique as he
hoisted the odd-shaped wine skin, threw back his head, and
opened his mouth to catch the thin, red stream of wine. I al-
most choked because my breathing wasn't coordinated with
the flow, but no more than half was wasted on my face. The
audience considered my performance hilarious; their laughter
rang clear across the valley.
A moment later, all were serious. Skordos was getting to
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the CrUX of his report. He directed most of his remarks to
Marika. She asked very few questions in return.
"W'hat did he say?' I ventured to ask when Skordos set-
fled back and took a long draught from his wine bag.
"The general is there." Marika pointed to the rim of the
hill that rose in front of us. It looked like the back side of a
natural dam that stretched for miles in either direction. The
crest was about 800 feet above our position and ran level at
that elevation for some distance in both directions. It was al-
most bare: I could make out a few rock outcroppings and
low bushes, most of them hugging the rims of shallow depres-
sions pointing toward the top of the hill.
"That's not the best place to play hide-and-seek," I said.
"That _ is an acropolis," corrected Marika. Most people
think that there is but one acropolis, the one in Athens. But
the Greek word acropolis means a high place, or an upper
city. Most high hills, every acropolis in Greece, has an an-
cient temple on it, a shrine, or a small church. "Look closely
up there," Marika continued. "You can see the tumbled-dov,rn
chapel at the top. It is very old."
The small building she indicated was not apparent at first
glance. Because it had partially collapsed, it no longer re-
tained its rectangular shape. The conical *dome, once coated
with sky blue paint, had lost support on one side and was
considerable out of plumb. The time-worn, whitewashed walls
were marred and chipped. Except for Marika's guidance, I
would have spent some time looking for the abandoned
chapel.
"He's up there now?"
"Yes. Skordos says they only travel at night."
"How many men does Rudetsky have with him?"
"Four in addition to the general. All are armed. They dress
in hunter's clothing, but Skordos is certain they are soldiers.
They walk and deploy themselves like military men."
"They probably are," commented Kasner. "Rudetsky cer-
tainly had officers and men loyal to him. He most likely kept
the equivalent of a personal bodyguard around him. Elite
troops and staff officers were stationed at the government of-
fice where Rudetsky worked. You know the honor guard
that a top foreign general would rate."
"Anything else about the men with him?' I asked Marik
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"Each one carried a knapsack and a canteen. They're
young."
"Could one of the packs hold a radio like Evans has?"
Marika got the answer from Skordos. "He's not sure. What
they carry isn't as large as Evans' equipment."
"Regardless," Kasner added pessimistically, "they're not
going to be easy to subdue."
That was the wrong attitude, so I disagreed. "On the other
hand, Rudetsky and his men have been under pressure for a
long time. They are probably close to total exhaustion."
Vlarkas, sitting quietly between Dimitrios and Alex, lifted
the walkie-talkie I had given him to carry. He wriggled it as
a signal that Evans was calling. I pulled the twin of the pair
from my jacket pocket, extended the telescoping antenna,
then flipped on the power switch. I pressed the "talk" button.
"Go ahead, Evans. Carter listening. Over."
The return signal was so strong that I had to turn the vol-
ume control as low as it would go. "Bluebird Base' relayed an
intercepted message. An unidentified submarine is headed for
a rendezvous tonight with something transmitted only as a
five-digit code. Time of meeting was also given in code, but
Bluebird estimates it's set for immediately after dark. Got
that? Over."
'This is Carter. I copied you. Anything on the rendezvous
point?'
"Nothing definite. Only another coded reference, but Blue-
bird says a submarine not—repeat, not—attached to the
Sixth Fleet has been tracked moving west from the Darde-
nelles. Last sighted southwest of Limnos moving west. That
puts it coming our way and about a hundred ten miles away.
Looks like your target is going to hitch a ride."
"Read you loud and clear, Eyans," I acknowledged. "Any-
thing else?"
"Negative. Stand by on this channel. Over and out."
Kasner repeated the conclusion once more. "It's a pickup
for Rudetskys that's for sure."
I agreed. "But I wonder who's doing the rescue. It isn't
known who sent the message that was intercepted. Rudetsky
can't be planning to turn himself back to the Russians, can
he? That doesn't make sense. It could be that the Soviets are
after him, but only in the same way we are . without his
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consent. If it is a Russian effort, someone ashore has an eye
on Rudetsky and is advising the sub commander where to put
ashore a landing party."
"You are assuming that only Russia and the United States
have submarines," Kasner said. "Rudetsky could be impor-
tant to other nations too, you know. Maybe he's rendezvous-
ing with a third party submarine as part of his escape plan."
That certainly was a possibility. And not any more fan-
tastic than me being right in the middle of all of it. The way
Kasner talked now, I realized he knew far more than he'd let
on back in Madame EEste's brothel, and I began to think his
previous denials were pure putoffs to avoid answering my
questions.
Sunshine warmed the orchard for an instant, then was cut
off by a screen of drifting clouds. I looked back toward
Mount Olympus. More clouds were forming along the hills
behind us. By afternoon, as Jeorgos had predicted, thunder-
heads would be piled up back there. The atmosphere was
growing heavy with humidity. A weather change was coming.
"Have you made up your mind?" The question came from
Vlarkas.
I hadn't, but I doubted if I would ever be ready to make
the right decision. There were too many loose ends. We were
certainly outclassed by Rudetsky's trained escort. No matter
how brave Marika's men were, a daylight attack on the hill-
top citadel had little chance of success, There was hardly any
ground cover between us and the fortress-church. The only
hope of success hinged on waiting for darkness so our move-
ments would be shadowed.
I couldn't delay answering Vlarkas any longer. "We'll split
up into two groups and approach from both flanks. We've
got two walkie-talkies so we can coordinate our movements.
plenty of time; we needn't start before sunset." I was
mentally working toward a final plan of action while I out-
lined the preliminaries.
I noticed I wasn't holding Marika's attention. When I
paused, she didn't begin translating; she was looking up over
my shoulder. Skordos was conferring with a youth who had
slipped up silently behind us. newcomer was a skinny
boy not over twelve years old. He was barefoot. His skin was
dark as a Moor's. No one paid any attention to me anymore.
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All eyes were locked on Skordos and his child companion,
who was obviously delivering a message of grave content.
The boy gave a final nod, then sprinted away, disappearing
quickly among the trees.
Skordos repeated the conversation to Marika. She wasn't
happy with what she had to tell me. "We're not going to be
able to wait until evening. We'd best not even stay here too
long. The soldiers are closing in. They have been seen in two
villages south of here and a fisherman saw a truckload of sol-
diers on the seacoast road to the north. They will be spread
all around us by mid-afternoon."
I got on the walkie-talkie. Evans responded at once. He
had seen no signs of anyone, although he had twice crawled
up on the rock outcropping above the cave to look around.
He said he could spot the olive orchard in which we were
waiting, but could. detect no movement around it. His report
was welcome; we weren't in immediate danger of being dis-
covered.
Kasner came right to the point. "If it's ever going to be
done, Carter, I guess it's up to us to do it now. After all,
that's why we've gone through everything that's behind us.
General Rudetsky isn't more than half a mile and fifteen min-
utes away."
"It'll be a slaughter if we attempt a stand-up frontal
tack."
' That plan you were explaining didn't sound too bad. Why
don't we start out that way and leave it up to Marika's men.
I've got a feeling they might surprise you."
Marika reflected that same confidence when I told her the
time had come. She possessed the same inexplicable and fa-
talistic attitude found in orientals concerning longevity and
death. The men she passed my instructions to exhibited the
same trait. All but Vlarkas bowed their heads and made the
sign of the cross before creeping out of the orchard.
I purposely sent Marika along with Jeorgos, Kasner, Alex,
and Dimitrios. I felt Jeorgos could protect and curb her en-
thusiasm much better than I could. Vlarkas, Takis, and Skor-
dos were with me. The heavily-bearded short man had de-
cided his chances were better staying with us than trying to
evade the enveloping soldiers on his own.
The walkie-talkies kept us in touch as we fanned out and
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made our way across the dry river bed and began climbing
the hill beyond it. Without the radio link. I wouldn't have
knoyn where the others were. Trv as I might. I couldn't see
a single head or any movement. moved like ghosts and
used every bit of cover effectively. I allowed Skordos to point
my way. It was surprising how rapidly the hand-waving,
leap-frogging procedure took the two of us uphill.
Kasner must have had difficulty making the climb. His
bruised leg still hurt him. I was breathing hard when Skordos
clamped a hand around my wrist. We had gotten as close to
the time-rotted church as possible without exposing ourselves.
I took the walkie-talkie from my pocket when voice called
over it. Vlarkas wriggled over to where I huddled in a
ground depression next to Skordos. g 'That's Jeorgos
speaking," he said. He further translated: "He doesn't see
anyone outside the building on that side." Skordos nudged
Vlarkas and mumbled something. ' There's no one visible on
our side. either. So all must be inside, either sleeping or keep-
ing out of the wind."
The intervening hill kept the strong offshore breeze from
striking us, so I wasn't conscious of the wind until Vlarkas
mentioned it. Then I realized he was speaking quite loudly.
The stiff breeze blowing around the crumbling church made
whistling noises, masking other sounds. The cooling effect of
the wind passing over my perspiration-damp clothes made me
suddenly cold.
'SThey're waiting for you to give the word," Vlarkas hol-
Jered. He took the safety off his carbine and saw to it that his
waist knife was not hung up in its scabbard. Skordos cocked
his museum musket.
I looked over the ruins crowning the ridge before me.
Close up, the little church proved to be so dilapidated that it
would hardly warrant the use of a bulldozer to complete the
wrecking job. A stick of dynamite would do. The decayed
building was a hazard to its occupants.
The single, closed door buried in a recessed archway ap-
peared to have sturdy, sound-looking wood. On each side of
the door was a window-size aperture set in the wall above
head height. Their purpose was to provide light and air into
the central nave. A small, open enclosure with uneven walls
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in a state of complete disrepair attached itself to the right
side of the chapel as I viewed it.
It was easy to see now why the cupola leaned so precari-
ously. *Ille cone-shaped dome was supported on its drooping
side by a single, rotted, splintery timber. The others, which
once held up that side of the circular roof base, had long ago
slipped from their wall niches as the wall itself crumbled with
age. Very little strain would cause the one remaining decom-
posed timber to give way, allowing that side of the dome to
crash to the ground.
Skordos kicked my leg. He was frowning and flicking his
hand forward impatiently: I hadn't lost my nerve as he
thought I had. I had used the past twenty seconds to incubate
an inspiration into a definite plan of attack.
I snapped Wilhelmina out of my holster and placed the
weapon on the ground in front of me. Skordos watched
wide-eyed as I unzipped my trouser fly and reached inside.
As I withdrew Pierre from its warm hiding place, I used my
thumb to arm the fuse so the little spherical bomb would ex-
plode on impact. The hilltop breeze was going to disperse the
incapacitating gas rapidly, making it only partially effective,
but I was counting on the surprise its delivery would cause.
I pockéted the radio, picked up Wilhelmina in my left
hand, and shouted, "Now!" as J heaved myself to my feet, 'I
was startled to see how little space separated me from the
four flankers rushing in from my left. Thev seemed to rear
up out of the ground like sunflowers growing in time lapse
photography.
I ran forward a dozen steps, then lobbed Pierre toward the
nearest windowless aperture. It arced up while I urged it on
by biting on my tongue. I transferred my Luger into my right
hand as the round, silvery container fell into the building. I
heard a sharp "pop" as the fuse ruptured the casing.
Rudetsky's retinue were soldiers. One reacted quickly. He
fired without a challenge and without being seen, Skordos, his
elbow touching mine, fell against me. his old musket going
off as his buckling knees struck the ground. I had to roll side-
ways to keep from being pinned down. I lay on my stomach
looking for the marksman.
His head bobbed up again behind the toppling enclosure
wall. The pipe-like barrel of an automatic weapon, tipped
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with a conical flash guard, followed. T fired. The slug hit the
wall two inches below the soldier's chin. The lip of the crum-
bling wall erupted as if struck by an armor-piercing bazooka
shell. The man screamed, and rammed both hands against his
stone-lacerated face.
As startled cries rose from behind the weatherbeaten walls,
I thrust Wilhelmina forward, my outstretched left hand lock-
ing around my right wrist to make a vise-tight grip, Sharp re-
ports of rifle fire snapped in the air all around me. I directed
well-aimed fire at the base of the fragile roof support holding
up the tilted roof dome. The bullets chopped at the wood and
chipped at the granulated roof support. Tne roof shuddered
and began to, collapse.
The dome finally fell with a crash. Billowing clouds of dry
clay and mortar dust intermixed with the residue of Pierre
blew away in the freshening breeze.
Suddenly, all firing ceased. I found myself alone. The wind
whistled noisily past the sides of the ruined chapel, but the
air was still where I was shielded from it. I heard loud Greek
voices clamoring from inside the broken building. From close
behind, I also heard violent cursing from Skordos, who was
seated with hands clasping his bleeding calf.
I saw movement out of the corner of my eye and swung
my gun hhnd around, trigger finger tensing. Kasner dropped
to the ground. "It's me!" he shouted.
I stepped over the chapel's knocked-down door. Inside, one
man lay spread-eagled on the debris-littered floor before a
tiny altar fitted into an alcove in the back wall. His unmoving
chest was matted with blood. In one corner were two other
prone figures, both partly buried under broken stone and
mortar. One was moaning and holding his head. The other
was either dead or unconscious; he lay quite still.
Marika and her Greeks, guns ready, stood in an arc before
a fourth man who .was standing protectively before a fifth.
There was no doubt which was General Rudetsky. He held a
Tupolev machine pisiol set to fire. It appeared that he had no
intention of relinquishing it.
The man in front was much younger' He had close-
cropped blond hair, hard chiseled features, and flashing, de-
fiant eyes. The short-barreled Soviet submachine gun he held
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in firing position had a fully-loaded drum of (ammunition.
He was not about to surrender, either'
I had walked into a strained, unmoving tableau in which
the tension was so critical that a single word or miscalculated
movement could precipitate instantaneous and total destruc-
tion.
Both sides were ready to cut each other down in a grim
bloodbath.
Not a head turned when I entered.
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CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The way everyone had faced off against each other re-
minded me of pieces of a chess board in checkmate. Ille
hilltop shrine, measuring about fifteen feet square, left little
room for backing off by anyone.
It didn't look as though Rudetsky planned to capitulate. He
was stoic, his handsome, angular features-set, his gray eyes as
cold as the chill wind gusting around the fallen chapel roof.
He had short, salt-and-pepper hair topping a head held arro-
gantly high. The nondescript civilian clothes Fe wore could
not disguise his military bearing.
The younger man stood before him with firm resolve. His
open defiance left no doubt that he would either sacrifice
himself to protect the general or share death with him. A
breathless silence accented the extremely delicate balance.
The release came unexpectedly. The young man stretched
out in the corner, a man I had presumed to be dead, groaned
and lifted himself up on one elbow. Rudetsky dropped his
gun hand and said something in his native language. Kasner
answered him with- identical soft, slurring tones. I was
watching the general. His eyebrows moved a fraction. When
he spoke again, the blond-haired man in front of Rudetsky
lowered the muzzle of his weapon.
"Marika," I said, "tell everyone to stand easy. Everything
is going to be all right now."
Kasner was the first to move any distance at all. He took
two steps and reached my side. "The boy that just recovered
consciousness is Rudetsky's nephew."
' 'Tell him he can go over and look after him after he drops
his gun," I said. "Tell his front man to put down the chopper,
too. One at a time, though, and without any sudden moves."
Even as Kasner relayed my conditions, the solemn-faced
general let his pistol fall. The younger officer first dangled his
automatic weapon by its web sling before letting it drop to
the floor. Vlarkas jumped forward and snatched up the guns.
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He tucked the general's machine pistol into his trouser waist.
band.
"Ask one of them if there are any others from their group
in the area," I told Kasner. "Also tell them that we've got
another twenty men spread around outside."
As Kasner spoke to the now unarmed young man who was
still on his feet, I looked around the room, It seemed sud-
denly larger. Then I realized that a lot fewer people were in
it than there were a moment before.
You had to give credit to Marika's men. They had antici-
pated the same possibility voiced by my question. Vlarkas,
Takis, Dimitrios, and Alex had vacated the shrine. One of
them would look after Skordos. Jeorgos and Marika re-
mained to stand guard over the captives. With one dead, two
groggy with possible injuries, and the last two submissive
prisoners, I began to feel as if things had a chance after all.
Rudetsky spoke quietly to his nephew and the other man
who was having diffculty seeing because of a bleeding scalp
wound.; One arm hung uselessly at his side. The general's
nephew had considerable resilience, or else he didn't want to
appear unmanly before his famous uncle. He struggled to his
feet, sliding up the wall to steady himself. His eyes werent
yet able to focus properly.
The general turned to the motley qüartet of captors stand*
ing around him and inspected us critically. He looked longest
at Kasner, but decided to confront me. 'SI presume you are
tbe leader?"
His English was nearly perfect. 'You speak English," I
said, wondering how the CIA could have overlooked that. If
they'd known, why was Kasner assigned to the mission.
Rudetsky nodded. Then he turned to Kasner and spoke in
his own language again.
The linguist smiled broadly and answered somethinm then
turned to me. "The general proposes that, since you are un-
able to converse in a Slavic language, he is willing to use En-
glish, French, or Italian. He leaves the choice to you."
The general's mild baiting wasn't making him popular with
me. For a moment I considered replying in Russian, which I
speak as well as French, but not nearly as easily as Spanish.
"Marika understands English," I replied. "We'll use that."
Marika was stacking the discarded Soviet-made weapons in
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a far corner. She glanced over her•shoulder darkly at me, but
said nothing.
"How am I to address you?" Rudetsky asked me directly.
"Just call me Carter. My interpreter is named Kasner."
The general bowed stiffy to each of us in turn. "Are you
permitted, Mr. Carter, to indicate what procedure you intend
to follow?"
"First, if you agree to do as you are told, we won't tie you
up. Do I have your word?" If he wanted to engage in games-
manship, I could be as proper and as haughty as he was.
"There will be no need for restraints," he agreed. "Are you
going to carry out your orders right here?"
"I don't understand the question."
Rudetsky studied me with such frank concentration that I
felt uncomfortable. "Perhaps it is I who fails to understand,"
he admitted. "You speak English well, but I do not for one
moment believe that is what you are."
"You're fogging up my mind, General. You'll have to be a
bit more precise."
This time it was Rudetsky who seemed baffed. "As it is
portrayed in American films, you are 'hit' men—paid assas-
sins—are you not? With a contract to kill me? I am resigned
to the fact that when captured I would be executed on the
spot. You have found me. Don't you plan to carry out the
execution?" He spoke as calmly as if his fate was sealed.
I looked at Kasner, theo back at the general. "No, Gen-
eral," I said. "We're not here to kill you, but to keep you
from being killed." But I didn't add the proviso that my
promise held true only if Rudetsky was willing to answer
questions.
'i Who do you represent if not one of the Warsaw Pact
governments?"
"You will learn in due time," r answered. The first move
is to get you away from here. None of us is completely safe
yet."
"How about my wounded men? How will you transport
'They stay here," I said firmly. "Marika, see what you can
find to tie them up."
"I won't permit it," Rudetsky protested. "l demand that
they be looked after."
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"Demand all you want, General, it won't do any good.n I
brought my gun out of its holster again. "We can play it one
of two ways. I can leave them here tied up, or I can leave
them here dead. I i guarantee someone will be along before
sundown to take them into custody. Take your choice. Which
way will it be?"
"There is no need to reward loyalty with certain death,"
the general reasoned. stie them up." I don't know what
there was about him, but his quiet, superior attitude grated
me.
Marika beckoned from the door. I hurried over. The slope
we had climbed to reach the skirmish site was barren. Even
Skordos was gone. • 'They've disappeared," I said unbeliev-
ingly. "Where'd they go?"
"It was to be expected," Marika replied, although disap-
pointment shaded her voice. "You have no further need of
them. They have done their job. Now their main concern is
to avoid the soldiers and get back to their villages. They
know I will see that the money we have been promised will
be paid over. They trust me to bring them their reward." Af-
ter a pause, she added: "It is time we leave and hope that we
do not run into any stratyotis—soldiers."
I unlimbered the walkie-talkie once more and called Evans
while Marika left to supervise Jeorgos And Kasner as they
bound the captives. I transmitted to Evans in the blind.
"We've got our man, but we can't stay here. How does it
look from where you are? Do you hear me? Over."
"I could hear gunshots clear over here," he came back.
"Just like the Fourth of July in the town square. You'd better
move out. rm standing by."
I didn't have time to wait while Evans consulted Bluebird,
but he should know what to tell them. "Evans, the trolley's
off the track, but good! We're too exposed to hang around
here. We're pulling back I'll check with you later. Got that?
Over."
Apparently, he didn't. The walkie-talkie lay in my hand as
silent as a corpse. I was about to repeat my message when
Evans called back. "Carter, don't be in a hurry •to get here.
Some sightseers are around. No one has found us yet; they're
working well below our position, but you could run into
them. They heard your racket, too, and are now moving that
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way. Don't come back now. Repeat: Don't come back now!
Stay off the air, but listen out. Over and out."
The abrupt manner in which Evans ended the message was
an ominous sign. But his warning was timely. We would have
to move fast. With the area swarming with soldiers, we
would be like a school of dolphin trying to swim through a
shrimp net.
Jeorgos attached himself to Rudetsky voluntarily. There
was no need to impress on the old Greek that we must keep
our prize at all costs. To impress the general to the same ex-
tent, I said, "This man will be your private guard. He is a
crack shot and speaks only Greek. And he is very nervous.
He would just as soon kill you as not, but he has been told
not to kill you, If you make any movement that suggests you
are trying to escape, he will wound you, and then carry you.
He is quite capable of everything I have said."
"I have already given you my word," Rudetsky said with
emphasized insolence. What this misplaced aristocrat needed
was a chop in the teeth, I thought. He wasn't doing much to
win me over. I distrusted him. To me, generals the world
over were pretty much alike. Promises weren't very sincere.
Keeping one's word, to them, was as realistic as a whore's
chastity.
I wouldn't have believed him if he had a halo riveted to his
head. I growled at him: "Don't make any quick moves. I'll
be watching you, too."
The sky was now covered with a solid overcast. After herd-
ing the general a short distance away from the tiny church,
we stood for a moment looking down into the valley. The ol-
ive orchard looked like patch of bushy seedlings, and the
spot up on the far mountain where the cave was located
seemed half a world away, although it was under two miles.
The atmosphere had become hazy, making distances seem
greater. Mist was flowing in from the sea, gathering in low
places along the coastal end of the valley.
Marika tugged at my arm. "Look, there's Vlarkas. He's
come back."
He came directly to me, but had to take a moment to
a great many of them all
catch his breath. "Soldiers
around us." Despite his heavy breathing, he wasn't anxious.
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"You know this area owell," Marika said in English. "Is
there any way out at all?"
"There are some ravines not too far from here. Some have
low bushes growing along their edges. That is where Takis,
Alex, and Dimitrios have concealed themselves temporarily. I
can take you to another place close by where we will be
safer than here. Perhaps we will be overlooked." He began
walking downhill.
"Wait a minute," I called after him. ' 'There's no use put-
ting ourselves in a pit to wait for the lions to jump us."
Vlarkas turned back, drawing nis long-bladed knife from
his belt: He wore an almost hideous grin. 'The soldiers are
spread out. Only one would stumble onto us. He would not
be able to cry the alarm with a slit throat." With that, he
turned again and continued downhill.
The place selected by Vlarkas held more promise than I
expected. We lay against its sandy banks catching our
breaths. With thick bushes forming a canopy over our heads,
we were entrenched in a shady, narrow defile completely out
of sight. Vlarkas pointed out another clump of bushes not far
away where the others of our group were hidden. I appreci-
ated Vlarkas» good judgment in not bunching us together.
Kasner squatted next to me. He massaged his sore leg.
"I'm sorry for you that this didn't turn out quite right?? I
said.
He answered philosophically. "It has become a tragic sort
of comic opera, hasn't it? It's not going quite like the script I
read, and all of us seem to be in over our heads. You knows
I was about r'eady to believe that our country had embarked
on a hand-in-hand friendship exercise with all our previous
non-allies, like China and Russia—and soon, Cuba, perhaps.
Then I find myself caught up in a cloak-and-dagger role by
sneaking into a country to whisk away a confessed spy before
the people he betrayed—and possibly a few others—can
catch up to him. What's happened to all the détente which
was supposed to put us on the road to permanent peace and
friendship?"
I didn't think he réally expected an answer from me, but I
gave him one. "I think it was Admiral Nimitz who once said:
The further away you get from war, the more intelligence
you need,' or words to that effect. There's a lot of truth in
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that. And don't mean just the numbers game of keeping
count of tanks, missiles, submarines, and nuclear warheads. A
lot of intelligence is pure data pertaining to potential ene-
emieg' political, economic, and even public morale aspects, to
help conduct daily diplomatic wrangling. To my mind, nego-
tiations between diplomats amount to a serious contest which
is merely an extention of war during a period of peace, just
as war is an extention of peace-time diplomacy."
"I won't argue that,ø said Kasner, "but it seems that intelli-
gence these days is so sophisticated that the traditional for-
eign agent and classical spy is relatively passé."
I shook my head. 'Vlhere are some things that can't be au-
tomated and mechanized. Isn't Rudetsky a case in point? Hue
mans in the business are indispensable. No system has yet
been found that beats direct acquisition, which is some indie
vidual helping himself to 'hard' evidence like in the Water-
gate attempt. And that involves a chain of people geared to
pass along material secretly. Rudetsky was at the top of
what must have been an extensive and far-flung organiza-
tion." I thought how I'd feel if I were part of it. There must
be a hell •f a lot of his undercover links who are scared as
hunted rabbits wondering which way to run.
I broke off the conversation. I was beginning to dislike
huddling in a confined space with no awareness of what was
going on around me. This was turning into a lopsided game
Of hide-and-seek, where the seeker had all the advantages. I
noticed the tension was beginning to wear on everyone.
Vlarkas stepped up on a boulder to bring his eyes up to
ground level where he could look between the lower branches
of the bushes. "See anything?" Kasner asked.
"Nothing. It is almost too quiet. If we remain hidden for a
while longer, the ground fog filling the valley may rise
enough to cover us. It is growing thicker by the minvte."
I got up and shared the rock perch with him. Less than a
quarter mne below us, a swirling fray bank of mist was flood-
ing the valley. The familiar olive orchard was now com-
pletely enveloped.
Vlarkas started to hoist himself out of the ditch. "Where
are you going?" I asked.
'To tell the others not to move. Ille fog will reach them
soon, too. *lien we can all slip away."
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There wasn't any need for Vlarkas to risk exposing himself
and our position to tell the others something they could con-
clude for themselves. Skordos, despite his leg wound, would
certainly move when the opportunity arrived. Vlarkass con-
cern didn't make a lot of sense. He was gone before I could
tell him so.
Jeorgos was sticking to Rudetsky like a Siamese twin. He
was guarding the Rumanian with his knife now. The general
had to move carefully when he did. The point ofJeorgos'
ready knife was poised inches from the general's ribs. Marika
was pale and obviously tired. Kasner was glums outwardly re-
flecting his disguSt for having been brought along on an ab-
surdly planned mission in which his role as linguist had been
unnecessary. With Rudetsky so fluent in English, Kasner had
no more reason to be here than I did.
No one was particularly energetic at this points but each of
us was razor-edge alert. Even so, the sudden sound of gunfire
startled us. Marika almost pushed me off my lookout pedestal
when she jumped up.
The first movement we saw was Vlarkas, bent over and
running uphill with long, loping strides carrying him away
from a cluster of bushes where Marika's man were con-
cealed. Orange muzzle flashes spurting from that point could
be seen easily in the deepening gloom. I expected to see
Vlarkas cut down. He was running the wrong way to reach
safety.
A line of rifle-firing Greek soldier in full battle dress closed
in on the now-silent pocket of resistance. Vlarkas' foolish
move had triggered off a massacre. We watched wide-eyed.
"Look, Nikko," Marika said sadly, "There are two. Look!
Alex ... he can hardly walk."
Short bayonets were prodding the hapless pair. Dimitrios
was gripping one shoulder with his good hand. His other arm
hung limp. Alex was staggering; barely able to remain on his
feet. Skordos and Takis never emerged, so I presumed they
were dead or too badly wounded to be moved with the oth-
ers.
"But Vlarkas got away," Marika said with some pride.
"He'll never make it," predicted Kasner. "He should have
run downhill to reach the fog."
"The ground over there is too open," Marika replied in de-
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fense. nen she lowered her voice. "You are right. He, too,
will be captured."
I put an arm around her shoulder. She shook it off. "You
know, donst you, that we can no longer depend upon their
silence. Even strong men will eventually break. We can stay
here no longer, and you must warn Mr. Gordon."
It really didnit make a single bit of difference now if all of
Marika's companions talked.
Someone had been shouting aloud from the very beginning.
It seemed to me that we had never been more than one
step ahead of disaster ever since we'd jumped from the plane.
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CHAPTER SIXTEEN
No one questioned what I had in mind when I started fol-
lowing the ravine downhill. Kasner fell in behind me. Jeorgos
spurred Rudetsky into •action. Marika held back, apparently
hoping that Vlarkas might return. I negotiated about fifty
yards and two bends in the erosion before I looked back.
Marika had caught up,
We had to tread carefully. Loose stones underfoot were
treacherous. If one were dislodged, its tumbling would be
heard easily. Sounds carried well in the hushed, damp air of
the valley.
In many places, the washout rut shallowed so that stooping
was not enough to stay below ground level. We had to crawl.
Each step of the way I expected to run into a searching sol-
dier.
I jumped when a hand grabbed my ankle. At Jeorgos' bid-
ding, Kasner had passed along a wait signal. I looked back.
Marika was sitting on her haunches, bead cocked to listen. I
breathed through my mouth to hear better. Faint, distaht
voices floated down to us. The sounds were distinct. The
walls of the ravine guided them like flowing water.
As we paused, the sounds grew louder. Marika waved her
hand excitedly as a message to move on quickly.
No one needed her urging. We all knew our escape chan-
nel had been discovered.
J got to my feet and began running. The noises made by
the soldiers behind us would mask our own sounds. Twenty
steps from the point where I had started, tiny drops of water
struck my face. With another ten steps I was completely en-
gulfed in thick mist. It was so heavy that Kasner ran into me
before he saw me.
We huddled together, all but Rudetsky exuberant about
our good luck. At my pantomimed directions, we lined up in
single file. Marika held my hand and Kasner's. Kasner was
linked to Rudetsky. Jeorgos, bringing up the rear, had one of
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his hands clamped to Rudetsky's. The other was free to wield
his knife.
The going was slow. The ground was uneven, but sloped
very gently now. I stopped automatically when I saw a faint,
tall and slender shape ahead of me. Marika gasped when
Kasner ran into her. I let go of Marika's hand and advanced
two more steps. The ghostly form materialized into a wel-
come sight. A tree. We had reached the olive orchard.
Using the evenly-spaced trees as guideposts, and with
smooth earth underfoot, we moved much more rapidly and
with assurance. I kept looking upward, seeking signs that the
heavy fog was holding. Rain or warm sunshine would dissi-
pate it rapidly.
The inside of my mouth felt as if it were coated with thick
flannel, and my throat was raw. I knew the others behind me
were no better off. General Rudetsky was matching Kasner
with hoarse gasps for breath. I had to call a halt.
Ignoring Evans' last. warning, I unlimbered the walkie-
talkie and pulled up the antenna. I pressed the transmit but-
ton, then released it. "Where's the other walkie-talkie," I
asked Marika.
"Dimitrios was carrying it the last time I saw it."
"Well, that really zaps it," I declared. "Unless he was quick
enought to get rid of it, the offcer leading that small army
behind us has it now. I'll have to take a chance none of the
soldiers understand English very well," I decided. I pressed
the mike button again. "Evans, this is Carter. Do you read
me? Over."
Silence.
"Evan.s, come im This is Carter. Over."
More silence.
Kasner voiced my thoughts. "Either he isn't close to his ra-
dio, or he's sticking to the moratorium on communications he
passed along."
"Illere could be one other reason," I said. From Kasner's
expression, I guessed he was expecting me to admit the
chance of trouble back at the cave. Instead, I gave a techni-
cal reason. "It's just possible that we're in a dead area where
one Of us can't hear the other. I'll try again when we get a
little closer."
Kasner lowered his voice. "Could I talk to you in private?"
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I trailed him ten paces before he stopped. uwrhat's wrong?"
He was frowning. "There's still another possibility."
"Hell, I know that. Gordon and Evans may not even be in
the cave. They could be in the hands of Greek troops."
Kasner took a deep breath. "I've been wanting to talk to
you for a long time about that possibility. Too many things
have been happening to be accidents. I can accept the first
foul-up at the airport. There are ways it could have been
learned that we were planning to slip into the country unde-
tected. The alternate action that prevented the mission from
being stopped at that point proves that a contingency move
was on hand in anticipation of trouble when we got here."
"I'm with you," I said. "But after that, the plan fell apart.
We were pretty much just bouncing around."
"Exactly," agreed Kasner. "What was happening had to be
caused by someone who knew what we were doing. I even
had a case built up against you. I gave you credit for being
able to bait Gordon to the point of committing near suicide
with a rigged explosive case in order to stop us. Of course, I
know differently since then."
"I appreciate your confidence, even though it's late in com-
ing."
Kasner had other ideas. "For example, take that bus that
tried to make scrap metal of Takis' truck. That had to be ar-
ranged by someone who knew what route we would f0116w
. someone with Io,cal contacts who could provide local
muscle. Jeorgos instinctively knew it too. That's why he
didn't hesitate to use his rifle."
SVIhe sound of which helped the soldiers find us," I mut-
tered.
"Maybe. But it's my guess they were already waiting in the
upper village to move down after the bus-ramming to sort
out the bodies. We got a reprieve only because the sideswipe
effort failed."
"The only part that escapes me is why any of this crowd
would want to play cozy with the Greek military."
"I don't think that's it," Kasner said. "I think the whole
purpose was to prevent us from reaching Rudetsky. That
failed, so we were allowed to proceed and neatly provided
the manpower that tackled and overcame Rudetsky's body-
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guard. If my guess is right, now that we have Rudetsky,
we're going to have a lot more trouble hanging onto him."
"That makes sense, except we're down to a mere fraction
of our original numbers. No one has any real freedom of ac-
tion anymore. Half of us are guests of the Greek Army and
the rest of us will be if we don't get moving."
"Are you counting Gordon and Evans among the prison-
' There•s only one way to find out," I said. "With any luck
at all, they'll be waiting. If not, the cave may be the safest
spot. We wouldn't be expected to return there, especiaJly
when it was seen that Evans had a radio that could warn us
away. Let's give it a try."
I hadn't realized it, but I had called a stop with only five
rows of olive trees remaining before the orchard ended. If
any visibility had existed, I would have seen that the culti-
vated land had been sloping gently upward for some time.
The edge of the orchard was marked by a wall of waist-
high, stacked rock. I went over first, then—with Kasner
standing aside—Marika climbed over, getting a hand up and
over from both Kasner and myself. I waited until Rudetsky
was on my side with Marika standing next to him before
began the upward climb again. I whipped around at the
sound of a sudden cry.
All I saw was Kasner on top of the wall, his arms out-
spread and whirling as he tried to keep his balance. One foot
flew outward as the rock carrying his weight gave way and
toppled out of place. Kasner tumbled backward and crashed
unseen behind the wall.
I almost ran over Marika in my hurry to get to Kasner,
but the simple one-handed vault over the wall nearly ended
in disaster. My left heel was an inch short of clearing the ob-
stacle. I ended up on the ground next to Kasner.
I recovered instantly, but Kasner didnst. The wind had
been knocked out of him from having landed squarely on his
back. Worse yet, his right leg, previously bruised from the
truck accident, was badly twisted. He moaned softly when I
pushed his clutching hands away and felt for broken bones.
When I straightened the leg out, he sucked in his breath to
suppress a cry of pain. It took only a moment to conclude he
bad wrenched the muscles around his hip.
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"You're all right," I said encouragingly: "Nothing broken,
but it will be diffeult to walk. Nothing a crutch or wheel-
chair wouldn't fix."
S'lt hurts like hell."
"Probably more than that," I agreed, "The worst thing,
though, is to stop moving. If you do, it could freeze up and
then you'd have real trouble. Better give it a try."
Kasner's condition forced me to make more decisions
through my weariness, which was making me less and less
sympathetic to each irritating situation. I began to look unon
each setback as one more test to keep me from turning
Rudetskyover to whomever in our government wanted him
so badly. Ihe questions they planned to ask the Rumanian es-
capee had better be damned important.
I scrambled back over the wall and snatched Jeorgos' car-
bine off his shoulder. I turned it on Rudetsky with such fury
that the look on his face showed that he thought I was a
madman and he was doomed. I handed Marika my pistol.
"Back me up with that," I told her, "and tell Jeorgos to give
Kasner a hand. He can carry him if he has to, but we're not
stopping now! Move it!" I barked. This last was thrown at
Rudetsky, and I punctuated it with a muzzle jab into his butt.
I was seething because I was tired and had so little real
chance of extricating •myself and those with me from this
mess. At this point, I really didn't care too much how it wås
going to turn out. I only hoped Gordon was still in the cave.
I wanted to shove Rudetsky into his burned lap and then
walk away. Marika had to speak to me twice before her
voice registered with me.
"The fog's thinning. See, you can make out the sun up
there."
"It's not thinning," I snapped. "We've just been climbing
out of it." Actually, both of us were right, but I was in no
mood to accept any well-meant comments.
Marika's pout told me I had offended her. It also told me
that I was a stupid fool for blowing up. "I'm sorry, Marika,"
I said softly.
I bent down and pushed back her outthrust lower lip with
both of mine. It was the grubbiest, most out-of-place and un-
likely kiss I'd ever shared, but it suddenly seemed to be the
most important one ever exchanged. I forgot about Rudetsky,
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Gordon, Bluebird Base, and the fate that awaited me for los-
ing high-priority and classified government property. Some-
how, for one special moment* none of that mattered.
snide chuckle coming from Rudetsky who watched with
amusement told me that all things were relative.
We trudged on, upward into the sunshine. "Over here,"
Marika said, dropping her voice. She had found the pathway
leading to the cave. I grabbed her hand to keep her from
breaking into a run.
"Hold on a moment," I whispered. I used the walkie-talkie.
"Evans, this is Carter. About fifty yards from your position.
Come in, please. Over. B
There was no response. I tried again. C 'Evans, this is Car-
ter. Give me a long count. Over." I swung the antenna about
so it could pick up the strongest signal. Nothing happened.
Now I expected the worst. Ihre was only one way to find
out how bad the situation was. Motioning for the others to
fall in behind and be quiet, I moved toward the cave.
As I approached, I could detect neither sound nor move-
ment. The cave was shrouded in an ominous silence. "I guess
it's empty," panted Kasner, crowding against me. He sounded
as if he was anxious to get off his feet and under cover.
"Stay back and keep quiet!" I hissed. "I'll check inside."
I glared over my shoulder to make sure that everyone un-
derstood. Kasner had abandoned Jeorgos' supports He was
standing lopsided with all of his weight on one leg. Jeorgos
had dropped back to reinforce Marika, who kept my pistol
trained on the arrogant Rumanian general. I took the safety
off the carbine in my hands and set the weapon on autofire.
With the sun well past its midday position, the rear of the
cave was already in heavy shadow. I crouched just outside
the entrance, peering in, and waiting for my eyes to adapt to
the reduced light. Forms began to take shape along the back
wall.
Gordon and Evans were seated side by side. Both were
looking up at Vlarkas,4Nho stood against the side wall some
eight feet to the right of the two men. He had them pinned
with Rudetsky's machine pistol. Near the toe of his right boot
lay the missing walkie-talkie, its antenna extended.
I lifted the light rifle into firing position. At a distance of
twenty feet I couldn't miss. My movement caught Vlarkas'
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eye. His head turned toward me, but his weapon remained
steady. He didn't have to worry about missing, either. The
rapid-fire Soviet pistol would spray the entire back wall with
bullets from the slightest squeeze of his finger. Gordon and
Evans would be sieved. Vlarkas didn't seem a bit concerned
that we were locked in a Mexican standoff.
In his clipped accent, he ordered, 'Tell the others to stay
where they are."
Before I could relay his demand, Marika slipped up beside
me. Her presence did nothing to alter the situation. It had no
effect on Vlarkas, except that his tight-lipped mouth tight-
ened even more. I couldn't take my eyes off of him to gee if
Marika still had Wilhelmina.
It took a moment for the impact of what Marika saw to
register with her. "You!" she exclaimed. I moved slightly to
place myself partially in front of Marika, to prevent her
from running forward. Her voice, biting with accusation,
blasted past my ear. "You scum! Traitor! It was you all
the time! But why? Why would you do this?"
Vlarkas. his eyes wild and dashing, shouted back. "That is
of no importance now. We have no time to argue. You have
no time to bargain. I will give you one chance. For the lives
Of these two," he said, waving his pistol at Evans and Gore
don, "you will hand over General Rudetsky.Ø
I needed time to find out if he' meant it, or was ready to
spring a double-cross. In his agitated state, getting him to
talk might take him off guard; be might slip so I could get
the upper hand. .1t was worth a try. "Look, Vlarkas, a
washed-up Rumanian general can't be all that important to
you. If it's money you want—"
"Listen, you stupid Yankee, your kind never understand!"
he shouted. "Marika is the guilty one! Because I was born of
poor, ignorant Greek parents who had no life but to eke out
a bare living from the soil of wealthy landowners like the
greedy Forlakis family, you think that I am RISD Greek. I spit
on them! My family does—my true family, the thousands of
Greek-born children rescued by the brave comrades who
took us to Bulgaria during our battle for freedom in 1946.
"Look at me! I am strong. I am educated. All that I owe
to the country which is my life and my mother. For years I
have been waiting, masquérading as a spineless Greek, until
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the motherland and party called upon me to serve. This is
what I have been trained to do." His tirade sounded like the
babblings of a warped mind, but he was dead serious. I kept
watching, hoping he would drop his guard. It could happen.
The crazed man was so carried away with his, own bitterness
that his speech bordered on the incoherent.
He was as unmoving as a rod of steel. I had never seen
this kind of fanatic before, but I was now witnessing the out-
pourings of a tormented, emotionally twisted man who, from
childhood, had been taught blind and unswerving devotion to
a cause.
His story, however, fit the historical facts. During the
Communist's attempt to take over Greece between 1946 and
1950, thousands of Greek children were kidnapped by the in-
surgents. Many were never heard from again. It was not at
all strange that some, like Vlarkas, had been purposely raised
with a single goal—that of someday returning to the land of
his birth to perform a special task. Vlarkas hadn't made his
assigned duty clear, but I guessed it to be Rudetskyss return to
the Russians. There were indications that the Soviets were
making a concerted effort to recover him.
It wouldn't be hard for Vlarkas to succeed. He only
needed to seize Rudetsky and remain in hiding until the
searching soldiers left the area. They would leave goon, as
soon as Alex or Dimitrios were forced to reveal where we
might be found. Once the Greek military had us in custody,
any story we might tell would be discounted as an attempt to
conceal the real reason for being on Mount Olympus. By the
time one of us broke and the truth came out, Vlarkas would
have been long gone with his captive.
We stood rooted in place while the tension mounted.
Marika and I were not the only audience Vlarkas had. Gen-
eral Rudetsky, with big Jeorgos behind him, had advanced
upon hearing Vlarkas' loud, blistering harangue. Kasner had
lowered himself at Rudetsky's feet, unable to stand any long-
er. We were a ragged, dirty, exhausted band Of people with
a dozen cross-purposes working to aggravate a crucial con-
frontation. Any one of us could make an inopportune move,
or say the wrong word. In my own mind, I couldn't think of
what the right ones might be.
The unbearable stress cracked unexpectedly. Gordon, whö
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NICK CARTER: RTLMASTER
had remained silent and slumped down as if he were already
comatose, moaned and tried to bring himself up to a full sit-
ting position. The narcotic effect of the crude medicine that
had held his pain in check had wom off long ago. It was a
wonder he wasn't screaming. I doubted whether he could see
anything more than vague forms where we stood. He looked
grotesque. His question indicated he was able to hear our
voices.
"Carter? Can you hear me?" he called out weakly.
"Yes. I hear you."
"Listen to me. For once, listen. Don't give in. This . this
bastard must not
have him. No one but us. If we don't
the world ... will see ... biggest crisis
between the
the super-powers since last Middle East trouble." His
pleading was even more pitiful because of his condition. The
few words he spoke taxed him tremendously. His breathing
seemed obstructed; there was a rattling in his throat.
"Vlarkas is not more than ten feet from you," I said. "It
would be like pulling the trigger on you and Evans."
"Well, do it, goddamnit! I'm no good anyway. Any fool
can tell it's it's. too late for anyone to to help me.
For Christ's sake, man I'm suffering. He'd be . be
doing me a favor!"
"I can't. Evans—n
Gordon cut me off. "Evans knew .e . the risks. He volun-
teered . .
there never were . . .
any guarantees. Pull the
trigger . "
Marika squeezed my arm. I heard Rudetsky mumble some-
thing, and Kasner sighed audibly. I thought I saw Vlarkas
first shift his attention. He seemed to be• as hypnotized by
Gordon's declarations as the rest of us. If anything, he was
seeing in Gordon a parallel of his own unbending, ideological
reasoning. He appeared puzzled to learn that a decadent cao-
italist like Gordon might also be willing to sacrifice himself
and another for his distant homeland.
Gordon slowly lifted a bandaged arm. His festering,
blackened fingers stretched out. "Come over here, Carter.
Come on! That
. misguided Commie isn't .
going to
shoot. He knows you'll blast ... his guts all over. Give me
the gun. I'll face off with him you back away . .. with
Rudetsky."
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"No," I said with equal conviction. Vlarkas was alert
again. "No one is going to pull any kamikaze maneuver
that'll make everyone end up dead," I warned Gordon.
I had more to say, but -a sharp jab of a knife point in my
ribs stopped me. I sucked in my breath. The thrust wasn't a
simple reminder; Marika had quietly drawn her knife and de-
liberately pushed the point at my side.
She entrusted the knife to Jeorgos before moving forward
across the cave floor toward Gordon. "You're dead if you in;
terfere," she warned me. Her eyes flashed bold defiance at
Vlarkas and they never wavered from his face. She spoke to
him in Greek, softly at first, then louder with each step.
Finally she stood over Gordon, where she turned and threw
out her chest. She spit out some words which could only be a
dare for Vlarkas to kill her. Without shifting her eyes from
the renegade Greek's face, she stooped down and took Wil-
helmina from the folds of her skirt. She placed the pistol in
Gordon's hand.
"You are a brave man, Mr. Gordon," she said in English.
'You deserve to have your way. This now becomes a matter
between you and the man who betrayed us all."
A dried leaf blown into the cave skittered across the bare
floor. The breathless silence was so acute that its scraping
sound could be plainly heard.
Marika unknowingly stopped the leaf's movement when her
foot fell on it as she stepped backward.
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CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The next moment I got a glimpse into hell. Gordon
pointed Wilhelmina at Vlarkas end pulled the trigger.
The noise of the shot bounded around the stone-walled
cave with a thousand echoes of ear-splitting sound. Vlarkas
half bowed as if he had received a sudden blow to the stom-
ach. Reflex spasms tightened his hands. The Tupolev machine
pistol chattered. A swarm of bullets from it caused dust erup-
tions in front of and between the two men at which it was
aimed.
Gordon managed to fire twice more. One shot picked up
Vlarkas and spun him around. It slammed him against the
sharp outcroppings of rock behind him, which caught his
clothing and beld him upright for an instant before he sank
to the ground. One slug had ripped through his throat, sever-
ing his jugular and blasting vertebrae from his upper spine.
He was dead before he hit the ground.
Marika and Evans screamed. The radioman fell sideways
and curled up, clutching his bullet-shattered wrist. Gordonis
soiled, mummy-like chest bandages were splotched with two
patches of spreading, red color.
The unreal scene transfixed everyone. Ears were deadened
by the rapid, roaring explosions. Eyes¯were half-blinded by
the bright gun flashes. Smoke and dust formed an acrid cloud
within the cave.
I sensed more than saw movement close by. A stooped,
running figure dashed toward Vlarkas• body. I reacted in-
stinctively.
I swung the carbine and triggered off a shot to halt Rudet-
sky's desperate bid to reach Vlarkas' weapon, once the gen-
eral's own. My shot was intended to give the general pause.
Instead of passing- close to bring him up short, the bullet
struck Rudetsky in the shoulder, cartwheeling him up against
the wall. He landed in an undignified heap next to Vlarkas'
blood-soaked body.
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Another shot rang out. I felt the searing lash of the bullet
as it grazed my arm and struck the rock beside me. Sharp-
edged chips of stone plattered into my face and neck. My
cheek and jaw were slashed by a dozen tiny, flint knives.
Marika kicked my still-smoking Luger out of Gordon's
rapidly-weakening hand before he could shoot me again.
He wasn't that far gone that he didn't know what he was
doing. He had deliberately tried to kill me.
I couldn't believe what was happening. I couldn't even
think. The madhouse of sound was deafening. It wouldn't
stop. It grew louder and louder, coming in steady waves and
filling the mouth of the cave.
"It's a helicopter! Right overhead!" shouted Kasner, who
still lay where he had sunk to the ground. '*It hasn't got any •
markings on it," he yelled. He jumped to his feet, seemingly
unmindful now of his injured leg. He hobbled out of sight,
following the course of the hovering craft. A moment later
he limped back, his hair blown wild. "It's setting down . . •
right on top of us!"
The shout of joy at the back of the cave came from
Evans. He was on his feet, holding his wrist. Blood seeped
through his tightly clenched fingers around his wrist. "It's
ours! From Bluebird Base!"
I ran to him to hear better. t 'What's that?"
' 'As soon as you let us know you'd gotten Rudetsky, Gor-
don had me put out a pre-arranged recall signal to Bluebird
Base. The tight-mouthed sonofabitch finally let it out that a
special helicopter has been on the alert aboard a Sixth Fleet
supply ship for the last eighteen hours. natis our way out."
It dawned on me that, except for Gordon's obstinance, we
could have bailed ourselves out a hell of a long time ago. I
spun around. The epithet I had on the tip of my tongue with-
ered at the sight of Gordon. He was staring up at me. Be-
cause of the wrappings around his head, I couldn't tell too
well whether his mouth was twisted in agony or if those
puffed, crack lips were smiling; I bent down over him. "You
hear that? The pickup helicopter is here."
I had to bend still lower to hear his reply. S'Sorry, Carter
sorry I couldn't tell you." He paused for breath.
"Don't talk. It can be explained later," I said.
Gordon clamped a trembling hand around my ankle. "If I
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NTCK CARTER: KILLMASTER
I don't tell , you'll never know. They'll never
tell you anything."
never
I believed him. I was an outsider who had accidentally
stumbled into a tightly compartmented operation. I was "Only
moments from being shut out again. "Never mind," I said.
"We've got to get you out of here."
He resisted my efforts to move him with what was proba-
bly the last of his strength. "Listen Rudetsky has informa-
. needed in Washington. Always planned . . . to take
tion .
him back if Bluebird could get here. We were
stop-
gap team. That's why I had
to shoot you. Had to save
Rudetsky."
Gordon had to rest again. A twist of pain shook him. He
was tearing himself apart when he should be saving his
strength. He pushed aside my attempts to keep him quiet.
"Listen," he whispered. His voice wasn't hushed because of
the confidential nature of his words: he was unable to speak
louder. "Rumanians were right Rudetsky was Russian
. through top Russian agent network
agent. Passed secrets .
in all satellite countries. He gave network to us ... so
our own people could steer ...
clear of Russian counter-in-
telligence traps set for our agents Military the CIA
. even an outfit known only as AXE . .. that had people
behind the Iron Curtain."
Gordon had no reason to reveal all this to me. He seemed
to want to explain why the effort had been worthwhile. I
made no comment. Gordon misunderstood my silence. He
thought he had failed to impress me sufficiently. He made an-
other effort.
"Rudetsky's trial brought out double-agent role. Escape
planned by Russians not to save him from execution but
to get him back . to Moscow. To wring him out . find
out where our people are ... Our whole apparatus in Europe
would have gone .
. down the drain. Understand?" His
clawlike hand gripped my arm. The last of his strength was
completely drained. He coughed. A dribble of blood ran out
of the corner of his mouth.
"Yes. I understand."
"Say nothing Evans will cover for you. If it's learned
you were in on this you'd have big trouble. Bluebird
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THE ULTIMATE CODE
171
will get you back No one will
ever know you were
here."
He knew as well as I did that there weren't more than five
minutes of life left in his seared, wounded body. "Take it
easy," I said.
"Get out now," Gordon groaned. "Leave me alone. Dont
worry. Marika . . . Jeorgos . . . they know what to do here."
I gently pried loose his fingers from my ankle. It seemed
strange that he should be concerned about the future when
there was none left for him. I looked up. A thin-nosed, bare-
beaded man, wearing plain white coveralls, as did two other
sun-burned young men standing behind him, knelt down on
the other side of Gordon. He had a doctors bag in one hand.
"Carter?" he asked.
'Tm Carter," I said. "He's Gordon."
"You ago with these crewmen. I'll see what's to be done
here."
I drew back, preparing to rise. Something tapped my knee.
It was Gordon hitting against my leg with Wilhelmina. He
said something that sounded like: nake it." He shuddered ås
if a chill had passed through him. The gun fell from his hand.
I picked it up. "It's mine," I said to anyone who might be
listening.
I climbed up the slope to reach the small mesa where the
helicopter waited. Its rotor blades drooped with an air of
tired sadness. At the rear of the cabin, Rudetsky and Kasner
were strapped to ambulance litters and shelved against the
bulkhead. Rudetsky was hooked up to a plasma bottle. Evans
was buckled into a comfortab!e passenger seat. A medical
was binding his wrist. In his good hand, Evans held
a frosty bottle of Coca Cola.
The pilots seated at the controls stared at me like I was an
apparition. We all must have looked like tramps with our
uncombed hair, beards, and torn clothes. The pilots turned
their heads away when I glowered at them.
'Ihe doctor and his assistants came through the under-
brush. He met my eyes and returned a negative nod. "You're
not going to leave him, are you?" I asked.
"Those -are my orders. Recoverable wounded and, injured,
okay. No dead. The man's dead. Should have been hours ago.
Don't know what kept him alive."
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Ill
"No," I said, "you wouldn't..No offense, doe. His stamina
had nothing to do with physical endurance. His strength
came from inside."
"A good friend of yours?" he asked.
I was about to say no when I realized that wouldn't have
been the right answer. Gordon hadn't been a friend; in the
end he had earned a respect that went beyond that.
The whine of the helicopter engine starter picked up and
grew in pitch. The doctor left me to climb aboard. I turned
the other way.
Marika waited near the edge of the open area; Jeorgos
stood beside her protectively, scanning the valley below. I
walked over. She held out both hands, a smile on her face.
Close up, I saw damp spots and smudged dirt on her
cheeks where she had wiped tears away. Now they were
coming back.
Marika pulled me toward her by drawing on my hands.
We held each other.
"hlikko," she whispered, "I cannot ask you to stay, but I
wish that you didn't have to go. I will never forget you,n
"Perhaps someday I can come back," I replied, wishing I
could be more truthful.
"You will remember me?" she asked softly.
"Always." The truth came easier.
Whirling shadows flickered over us. ne helicopter bladeS
been engaged. A shout from the co-pilot reached us.
"Go now," Marika said* pushing me away. "We have work
to do, Jeorgos and I. We will take care of Mr. Gordon. We
will see that he is placed somewhere he will not be forgotten,
either.
I continued to look down over the side of the helicopter as
it rose from the ground. The thick mist that had filled the
valley had been rent by persistent, warm sunshine. Remnants
of fog were strung out like tattered veils over the timeless
soil.
On the barren rock outcropping below, two lonely figures
diminished in size as the distance between us grew greater.
Marika kept waving until I could no longer see her.
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